Today is sunny and winter warm. Everything is quiet. My house is almost totally cleared of wrapping paper and gifts except for a box to my sister with a gift, a very neat gift, which came later than the rest. It is ready to mail. I need egg nog and I need bread so I guess I’ll go out later today.

I’ve watched three Christmas Carol movies but I’ve saved the best, my all time favorite, for Christmas Eve, the Alastair Sim version. The only versions I don’t watch are the cartoons, except for Mickey’s. That one I love.

My house is getting cleaned today just in time for Christmas. I’m tired of picking up clumps of fur that swirl and eddy in front of me when I walk.

Christmas is the time for a suspension of disbelief. Wonder and Christmas are wrapped together. I still smile at the houses covered in lights. I chuckle when I see dark houses and remember my mother. She always said, “They must be Jewish,” just as a matter of observation.

When I was a kid, this week would have been intolerably slow. We’d watch Christmas programs, but they didn’t make the waiting any easier. My mother usually saved the Great Sugar Cookie Frosting Day for closer to Christmas. She’d make frosting and divide it into colors, green and red, and leave the white alone. We needed the white for Santa. Frosting day was always a messy day. Everything got frosted including the kitchen table and spoons which lost their identities under the thick, clumpy red or green frosting which covered them. Less is more never entered into the decorating. The cookies were covered and heavy with frosting. With the ones I decorated, I tried to be less liberal with the frosting and more creative. I used toothpicks to drop dots of color onto my Christmas Trees. I gave Santa eyes. I was an artist.

The weather hasn’t changed except to get a bit warmer. Last light it rained so today is cloudy and damp, familiar weather. The weatherman predicts tomorrow will be sunny. I hope he is right. I have stuff to do.

Today is the winter solstice and the longest night of the year. I get comfort, some small comfort, knowing daylight will start to last longer every day after today. In January we’ll gain between 90 seconds and two minutes of daylight. That’s a mood changer.

When I was a kid, I wasn’t all that afraid of nighttime, but I was afraid of unexpected noises in the dark. My father scared me once when he pretended to be the hook, the man with the hook, scratching the screen. I yelled at the noise like a B-movie character obviously making the wrong and fatal choice. Now the hook would know I was there. I was really scared. My father never scared me like that again.

I spend more time awake in the darkness of the late light, in the wee hours. In the summer, I like to sit out on the deck in the moonlight and look at the stars. Now, the cold means a quick in and out, but sometimes I stand outside for a bit and watch Henry then we both hurry inside out of the night cold.

I have a project I’ve been putting off, but it is time. I have two wooden boxes filled with albums, with vinyl. I know some are vintage Christmas, like from Grant’s, so it is time to go hunting. I have brought in a chair so I don’t have to sit on the floor. Comfort is my middle name.

My mother had a hifi early on. My father always got a huge bonus after Christmas, and one year he bought the hifi. It was brown. That’s all I remember. We played Christmas albums all the time. We’d load two or three of them on the spindle. My sisters used to sing along with Guy Lombardo and me because the lyrics for all the carols were on the record jacket. I remember Bing and his Christmas record with him on the front in a Santa hat and wearing a holly tie. I think everyone I knew had that album.

My Christmas tree lights are on, and all the candlelights on the living room tables are lit as is a gourd with a painted winter scene. On the hearth is a lantern with a brightly lit snowy scene of a car carrying a tree on its roof.

I love the feel of my living room. The soft light from the candles is comforting in its quiet. Their glow is bright on the floor and tables. Though the living room is simply decorated this year, it still keeps Christmas for me.

This morning’s weather seems to be the trend. It is again damp and cloudy. Color has disappeared. The pine trees in my backyard are silhouetted against the grey sky. The occasional breeze ruffles the dead leaves at the ends of the tallest oak branches. Nothing outside is inviting today.

My friends dropped by yesterday. They were in their car, and I was on the walkway to my house. We chatted a long time, long enough for frostbite to tickle my toes. I was so happy to see friends in real life.

I am in a never-ending battle with cardboard boxes. I do recycle them, but they need a ride to the dump so now my backseat and front passenger seat are filled. I could break them down, but I tried once and the box was stronger than I was, and I nearly fell over. In my defense, it was a huge box. Anyway, I am scheduling the dump run for Wednesday as it is closed tomorrow and Tuesday, and the trash isn’t quite ready yet.

When I was a kid, the trash trucks came once a week. Two guys hung off the back. They were the ones who jumped off, grabbed barrels from the sidewalks and dumped them at the back of the truck. Beside them on the truck was a lever. That was for the compressor (I’m guessing its name) which flattened trash and pushed it to the back. The truck motor was loud, but the compressor was louder. We’d stand on the sidewalk and watch the trash get flattened. It was worth our attention, kind of exciting.

Christmas is so close, but I have everything I need readied. I have the best appies for Christmas Eve, coconut shrimp with mango sauce and crab rangoon. I have a bottle of champagne and some orange juice for Christmas morning mimosas, a Ryan family tradition. The egg nog is chilled and ready for a bit of spirits. Dinner is ordered to be picked up on Christmas Eve morning. The presents are under my tree and on the hearth. There are lots of them.

My sister, Moe, when she was a kid would tear tiny holes in any presents under the tree. She was quite adept at hiding the holes. We just knew they were there. She also developed an uncanny gift of correctly guessing presents. She’d pick up a present, shake it and that was it. Surprise gone. Now, Moe waits, sometimes what seems like too long a time to open her presents. Somebody should check for holes.

The morning is cold. The small bit of snow left on the grass cracked when I walked on it on my way to the papers. That sound took me back to cold, cold mornings and walking to school across the field. Every place I stepped the ice cracked and web lines spread in front of my boots. I could see my path across the field in footsteps mostly cracked in the middle. Sometimes the cold took my breath away.

Today is in the mid-30’s. The morning sun and blue sky have been displaced by clouds. Outside looks cold. I shut the back door, Henry’s door, as I could feel the cold through the flap and down the hall. I think it is time for socks.

When I was a kid, everything Christmasy made me giddy. The countdown began one week away from the big day. When we got out of school for Christmas vacation, the excitement was palpable. December 23rd was often the last day of school and the last day before the big days.

Christmas Eve morning was usually anti-climatic. It was a regular winter morning, sometimes cold and sometimes damp. I wanted to wake up to parades and bands, to celebrations heralding the coming arrival of Santa. It was a day to be impatient and not at all sleepy, a day for surprises and for new pajamas. I remember watching A Christmas Carol almost every Christmas Eve after dinner.

I am staying home today as I have no reason to be out and about. I am dressed in comfy clothes. My warm around the house pants celebrate Christmas and are covered in gnomes wearing red hats and coats. My sweatshirt is red. I have plenty of food, a fridge full, some cheeses, hummus and pita, avocados, candy, chips and an onion dip. I have milk for cocoa and fluff to float on the top. I have cinnamon rolls in the can. I am in paradise.

When I first opened my eyes, I looked out the window and saw flurries. I fell back to sleep, or would that be drifted back to sleep? Well, I’m leaning toward drifted with the snow and all, but regardless, I went back to sleep. When next I woke up and looked, the snow was heavier. I stayed in bed warm and comfy until Henry got restless knowing I was awake and pretending not to be so I decided to get up and get on with the day. The snow had stopped.

The kids here have a snow day or rather a wind day. The wind last night was heavy and loud and brought fears of downed lines, but it blew itself out. The trees are calm this morning. The only snow left is ugly, pock marked, after a day of rain. The streets and walkways are clean. My neighbor across the street shoveled. The rest of us let the rain do the clearing.

Where I lived when I was a kid got lots of snow in yesterday’s storm, maybe even a foot. The no school announcements were on TV early, for some, as early as the night before, running at the bottom of the screen during the news. When I was a kid, it was an alarm from the fire station which announced no school. Even an inch or two had us hopeful, had us listening for that blast of the alarm. When it didn’t happen, we groused in disappointment. When it did, we wanted out right away to play in the snow, to sled down the hill and to throw snowballs. We couldn’t go to school, but we could play in the snow all day.

Boxes arrive every day. My dining room is disappearing, hidden under piles of empty boxes. Yesterday it was three of them, all filled with Christmas presents from my family. Just now two more were delivered. Henry was crazed, and I was afraid he’d go out the door. He scared the FedEx lady so much she dropped the packages on the steps and took off. I don’t blame her. Henry was scary.

I have no need to be out today. I have plenty of food, drink and even a bit of dessert. I treat myself well during my self-imposed quarantine. Tonight for dinner I’m having steak quesadilla.

Yesterday I got everything ready for the car and UPS, but just as I carried out the first boxes, it started to rain. I had to make two more trips to the car in the rain. I got wet. I was unhappy. When I got to UPS, there was a line. I grabbed my folded grocery cart, put two of the bags in and took my place at the end of the line. In about five minutes I was in the middle of the line. I ran to the car and got more bags. I also dropped my glasses which I had taken off in the rain. I stepped on them. They now sit askew on my face, but if I lean my head, I can see straight. I just have to remember not to nod because the glasses fall off when I do. I have an appointment at my eye doctor’s office today as I am being driven crazy by these glasses.

The gifts are wending their way to the north, the south and the west. Last night my tree was lit in the living room. The Merry Christmas sign is on the front door. It’s time for the official start of my Christmas season.

We are under a major storm warning, that would be a major snow storm warning. They are predicting 8-12 inches. It will start late tomorrow night. I have to go out anyway today so I’ll do bit of last minute storm shopping but not for bread or milk. I’m thinking a dip or two, some chips, ice cream, which is snubbing my nose at the cold and snow, and more eggnog.

When I was a kid, Christmas was a process in time. The windows and outside bushes got lights first. I was so excited to help my father. I remember standing outside holding the strands while my father wound the lights through the front bushes. I also remember running in and out of the front door so I could get a good look at the lights. The outside bulbs were big, colored lights. The windows had orange bulbs, a universally favored color. Nobody had white lights or even white candles in the windows. My childhood Christmases were filled with lights and bright colors. I still put colored lights outside, and this year the bulbs are huge from two new sets of LED lights. My Christmas trees always have a combination of lights. In the middle are the white lights like stars shining through the tree. The rest of the lights, the colored bulb sets, are wound around the outside and the inside of the tree. I always love to walk in the living room and be surprised by my tree, a bit like being a kid and running out the front door to look at the lights and the bushes. Christmas is still wonder.

Yesterday stayed warm. I stayed busy and finished wrapping and organizing. Today is UPS day, the day the packages will be sent hither and yon.

The morning is cold and damp. The world is grey. It is already down to the 30’s and will get into the 20’s tonight. Rain is predicted.

Yesterday I organized and cleared a couple of rooms, straightened and pulled the wire branches of my scrub pine tree and decorated a bit. I had found a small box with two strands of thick string. Each strand had twelve thin Santa clothespins. I thought they were kind of neat looking. While trying to figure what to hang from the Santas, I remembered I had bought several picture Christmas cards years back. I had trouble finding the cards, but I did, after taking down and dusting with my sleeve several wrong cigar boxes. I looked through the cards and was amazed at what I found: several of the cards were from different years of one family, a family from Denver. There was even the adoption notice of their daughter. The Christmas cards dated from the early 1950’s through the 60’s. They had a son older than their daughter. The two kids, their parents and the family dog appeared in all sorts of Christmas poses. They were the faces of reindeer, the family walking out of church, ornaments on a tree and a few regular family pictures. The son was in uniform one year then wasn’t in the family picture the next year. He was missing for the first time. I hoped nothing had happened to him. The next year his picture was added to the rest of the family pictures, to the faces on the ends of Christmas tree branches. Beside his picture, it said, “From Vietnam. “The next year he was home. I saw him in the family picture.

Where was I going with all of that? Well, I chose 12 of those picture cards and clipped them with the Santa clothespins then I draped the strand on the mantle. The second strand I loaded with Christmas cards from the 1950’s. That strand is hanging in the dining room. My ugly tree was in place yesterday and lit last night. My house is beginning to look a bit like Christmas, a sort of weird and vintage Christmas, but I’m just fine with that.

The day is warm with sunlight and a blue sky with scattered white clouds. I am a happy woman as my house is less cluttered from unwrapped Christmas gifts and wrapping paper as I move from room to room. In my bedroom, only empty bins are left to be put in the eaves when everything is finished. The living room is filled with bags overflowing with wrapped gifts. I have been in a frenzy, and everything is ready for UPS tomorrow. I just need to staple the tops of the bags, print labels and load the car.

My house is still bare of Christmas except for some poinsettias and a few table top decorations I bought at the florist. Once all the gifts are sent, I’ll bring up some decorations. I’ve ordered Christmas dinner for pickup on Christmas Eve. I’ve sent out my Christmas cards. My tree is still in the middle of the living room because I have to straighten branches and rehang the ornaments which fell during transport from the cellar, but it should be ready today. I’m also putting the cow and the donkey out front. My yard needs whimsy.

When I was a kid, I loved when it was time for decorating the tree and putting lights outside on the bushes and inside on the window sills. The bulbs on the outside lights were huge and always got hot. They were colored lights. That’s all anyone used back then. Last year my friends gave me a five bulb window decoration called a chandelier candle lamp. I did not know that it had its own name. One just like it was always in our picture window and always with orange bulbs. I put my new old one in the kitchen window which can be seen from the road. It is a connection to all those Christmases on Washington Ave when I raced to turn the bulbs on, to be the first. The big coup was turning on all five bulbs.

Yesterday was a good day. I wrapped gifts until I ran out of tape and I put more boxes and bags into the car for my dump run today. I need an empty car for the trip to UPS on Monday. I’m about half way through my wrapping.

The morning is foggy and hazy. It is warm and will get warmer, to the low 50’s. Everything is still in the thick air. Even the smallest branch just hangs. Rain is a possibility for later.

Sometimes Henry sits right beside, and if I don’t pat him, he gently taps the top of my leg with his paw. He follows me into the kitchen then leans on me for attention. I pat him, and I sometimes give him a treat.

Henry didn’t let me pat him for a long time when he first came to live here. I didn’t push it though I longed to pat him, to show him some love. Henry took time, but I was always patient. We started slowly with a pat or a scratch here and there, and finally, here we are nearly two plus years later, and Henry pats my leg.

The lights I put on the fence to replace the dead ones are LED’s. I swear they are so bright you can probably see them from space, or at least from a low flying airplane or better yet a helicopter just above the trees. One of the light sets I took off the fence still works. It was probably attached to the dead strand. I’ll use it on the mantle.

Cocoa has been my go to drink on the really cold nights. I fill my huge mug with milk and put it in the microwave to heat. The cocoa is an organic, dark hot cocoa mix. I smack my lips after every sip. It is that delicious.

When I was a kid, the milkman always left one bottle of chocolate milk with the bottles of white milk. I never thought of it as anything but ordinary. The house rule was we had to mix the chocolate with the white milk so the chocolate would go further, would last longer. Mostly we drank it at supper though it went well with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Actually, it went well with anything. Chocolate is like that.

This morning is one of my favorite sort of mornings. When I let Henry out for the first time, I went on the deck. It is chilly, but the sort of chill which doesn’t hang around. I can feel a warmer day coming. I can feel the sun.

My wrapping began in earnest yesterday. I finished two adults and three children and managed to clutter two more rooms. Here in the den is wrapping central. On my table are my tools: scissors, a pen, heavy string and small pieces of wrapping leftover from the bigger presents and a tube of the paper of the moment. In the living room, the couch holds the wrapped present bags. The dining room has two tubs of wrapping paper and a couple of empty boxes to be filled for mailing. I hate clutter. I’ll work quickly.

I have outside stuff needing tending. A set of white lights on the side fence died, but I was fine with that until a second set died. Now I have to replace both. My bird feeders need filling, and I haven’t yet hung the horse’s head for the spawns. That will be first as spawns are notoriously impatient.

My scrub pine is up from the cellar. It needs to be pulled and fluffed. That’s the tree usually lighting a corner in the dining room, but this year it will be my only tree and will be in the living room. It is wonderfully ugly.

Henry is to my left on the couch. He is gnawing on his new bone which arrived from Chewy this morning. It is an actual bone, and Henry gets one every new Chewy order. I can see the marrow is already gone at one end. The wooden floor below where Henry gnaws has a peculiar pattern in the wood. It almost looks like a bird’s claw trail in the sand, but the marks are indentations from the end of Henry’s bone when it falls off the couch to the floor. Henry’s bone is a heavy bone. Jack is asleep on my other side. He leans against the arm of the couch and me. It is one of his favorite spots.

My car is dump ready so maybe I’ll go out later in the afternoon, but that’s a big maybe. I just don’t feel it today.

I am watching LlamaGeddon. The introduction was wonderful, a cartoon showing not only the llama’s flight from his home planet but also pretty much the whole plot of the movie. The llama has arrived on Earth in his animal trailer with wings. He has red eyes and is bent on death and destruction. This is labeled a comedy.