Yesterday has been renamed card day. The tree is still standing in the middle of the living room waiting to be decorated, but my Christmas cards are done. I had a morning meeting earlier today, but that’s it on my dance card. The rest of the day is tree day.

It was cold last night, and it was cold this morning, but the high today should be around 41˚. I’ll be wishing for that on Thursday and Friday when the nights will be in single digits and Friday’s daytime high will be 19˚.

The Christmas day dinner was turkey when I was a kid. That turkey showed up so soon after Thanksgiving didn’t bother us. We didn’t even think about it. We all liked turkey. But when I was older, my mother would serve a roast beef, a pork roast or a spiral ham. We always had potatoes and my mother’s squash dish. The other vegetables varied. The meals were always good, but the best part was dessert. The dining room table was covered with dishes all holding sweets made by my mother and me. It was awesome, the choices almost overwhelming. I’d fill my plate with the favorites: a whoopie pie, a frosted sugar cookie, and an orange cookie. On my second trip a bit later, I’d try the new cookies. Every year there are some new cookies, surprises. Later in the evening my mother and I would have a Spanish coffee and look through our stockings again. The tree was lit and the house, except for the two of us, was quiet. It was always one of my special times with my mother.

The Hallmark movies I’m watching all have happy endings, but I’m fine with that. Christmas is a time for happy endings.