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Browsing Tag: #christmasindixie
Dear Santa, I hope this letter finds you warm and well at the North Pole. I also would like to extend my condolences to Mrs. Claus, who is probably the most harried woman in the hemisphere right now. Although some of my mom friends are snorting with derision, no doubt. Hey, they brought it on themselves. Dern kids. I was never taught to believe in you. I think I waited until third grade to ruin it for everybody else, though. Seemed like about time to be growing up and putting away the foolishness. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve found Santa in some. Really, it’s Jesus but some of these good people are self-proclaimed atheists, so let’s just agree to disagree, yes? In the spirit of Christmas and all. So what I’m writing to say, is what everyone writes to you about- my wishes. I’ve been good….but I’ve also been bad. To be honest, it’s probably an even split. I won’t even try to convince you, you see me when I’m sleeping, you know when I’m awake…but even you gotta admit, Santa, that I got pushed to the edge and when I’m cornered….well, it ain’t pretty. I normally wouldn’t write on behalf of anybody but there are people in my life that…
I was taught to lie at a young age. I also had my butt busted at a young age for lying about the least little thing. It did not occur to me until this morning, at 38 and a half years old, that I was brought up a liar. I was frying bacon and eggs for a sandwich. I thought, “Oh, goody! We can use our new Christmas plates since this is just a sandwich and we don’t need big plates.” I then went over to the table and felt their heft as I lifted them. Maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea. I broke my new turtle glass the other day, and I didn’t want to risk these so early in their life. What if I couldn’t replace them? I mean, they’re just Wal-Mart plates but I really like them. No, not the Pioneer Woman ones they’re pushing. These are the Twelve Days of Christmas. I could just see me washing them and their soapy slickness slipping through my grasp and thirteen million pieces as it went everywhere. So I set the plate back down and thought, “Lets not and say we did.” Which. Is. A. LIE. But that’s a passable lie, since it was always used in jest. Like when I wanted to do something that nobody else did, like go to the store, or…
So there’s this family I know, & they’re not normal. Allow me to explain. I’m scrolling through all the pictures of smiling faces & homemade cookies & well wishes on Christmas Day. Being as that I have no children to clean up after, I had a fairly relaxing day & could spend it mindlessly trolling the internet, looking at y’alls madness & mayhem. I got to a picture of a home I know, a home I’ve visited, a home that belongs to a family I love. In the picture was a modest tree, decorated with traditional colored lights & homemade ornaments, nothing flashy or showy about it. The tree sat on warm hardwood floors, polished to a shine. Nearby, perched on a low table, was a glass of milk & a plate of cookies. Other pictures revealed stockings hung on the chimney (with care, I imagine). The pictures themselves weren’t perfect, either, kinda blurry. Nothing was staged. But it was perfect in my eyes. I looked closer. And I saw something there. Or rather, a lack of something. Underneath the tree were just a few presents. Maybe six. Maybe there were a few more that didn’t make it in the frame. I was puzzled. Houses with children are usually overrun with presents. Even here, Johnny & I are terrible & have all of ours under the big tree in the living…
Our big shindig for the Co-op was last night. We’re a pretty mild sort, but we always manage to have a good time. I really wasn’t sold on going this year, as it was on my day off & I like to hermit up, but J enjoys it more than me. He says we’re “a good crowd”. He doesn’t see everybody daily like I do, so I put our names on the list. Just about everyone always shows up. And we all try to dress up, even if it’s just our best boots, jeans, & a button up or sweater. Last night was no exception. In the past, we’ve had our picture taken (by yours truly) in front of the Christmas tree wherever we were, played a game, sang a song, or just had general merriment & fellowship. We have had our annual get together in several locations over the years, from the back room at Golden Corral, to Cowboys on the lake, to the Legion building, to River Plantation’s meeting hall, to right here at the Co-op. We’ve been so poor some years that the Christmas dinner has been a potluck. And that’s ok. The food isn’t what’s important. The catching up with your coworkers about non-related Co-op stuff is what counts. And to see their families growing. I remember the year of our renovation; we didn’t really even have a Christmas…
The big tree is standing proud at the Johnson Plantation. So far, it has only been bedecked with 1,000 lights. I’m thinking it looks pretty good & that might be all that happens to it. Kidding! Sort of. Here’s how it happens every year: Me: “Are we doing a live tree or a fake one this year?” J: “I like the live ones. Don’t you?” Me: “Yes. Can we go cut one down at Hal’s?” J: “Why can’t we just get one from the store?” Me: “Because it will be fun to go cut one down.” Silence. He wears me down over the next few days & I start scrutinizing the ones at the store, & he comes by to pick up my selection. I always have eyeballed the biggest, tallest, fluffiest one that’s still under 12′. “That’s huge!” “No, it’s not! It’s perfect.” Then he calls me Clark & tries to steer me toward the piddly 5-footers. Eventually we compromise & get a very full 7′ one. And I come home & it’s all set up & ready to decorate. And I put on It’s a Wonderful Life or Home Alone or National Lampoon’s & get to it…
I am impressed by you people who decorate real trees. They are a horse of a different color. You put an ornament on a real tree branch, it sags. You put one on an el-fako & nothing much happens. And its like the real trees eat the bead garland. I don’t even know what happens to it (or the ribbon- now you see me, now you don’t!) Anyway, Johnny wants a real one next year. We’ll see. He wanted a real one this year too, but neglected to tell me till after all the fake ones had been lugged upstairs, fluffed, & lit. Dang. Anyway, hope everyone is snug as bugs in rugs on this chilly night. Me, I’m wrapped in a lambswool blankie & watching Home Alone for the second time in two days 🙂 I have presents to wrap & dishes to wash but ah, it can wait till after Kevin plants the tarantula on Merv’s face…
