The morning is lovely with sun, finally, and a deep blue sky. It is warmish at 39° with no wind. The temperature will even hit the low 40’s. I’m staying home today as my errands can wait for another day. My to-do list has only one chore, vacuuming. I’m still working on my jigsaw puzzle. In the middle of the puzzle is a giant reddish door with a wreath. That is slowing me down, but I’m determined to finish it.

When I was a kid, I remember sitting by the tree looking through my presents again. Opening them on Christmas morning had been a bit frenzied so I took the time to check everything out. That’s when I’d find the surprise. My mother would remember hidden gifts she had forgotten. She would slip them under the tree behind our opened gifts. We’d find them and think we had missed them. Once I found a really old pair of ice skates with leather straps. One strap went over your toes while the other went across your ankles, no keys, nothing to tighten. The skates were from the 30’s. I wish I knew what happened to them.

Christmas dinner was turkey, a repeat of Thanksgiving. We’d eat around one o’clock as did just about everyone else I knew. After dinner, we’d go to my grandparents’ house. The house was filled will relatives, aunts, uncles and cousins, hundreds of cousins. My grandparents always had a present for each of us and a chocolate Santa. My father and the uncles were together watching TV. My mother and the aunts were in the kitchen. It was always that way. I remember it was dark when we left for home. I’d sometimes fall asleep and be surprised when the car stopped, and were home.

Christmas vacation was for a week. We’d play outside as often as we could. If you got a new sled, you wanted snow. New figure skates demanded ice. Dry streets were perfect to ride new bikes. On days when we were stuck inside we’d play the new games we got for Christmas. A new game was always front and center under the tree every Christmas. My all time favorite is still Sorry.

Last night I sat in the living room just looking at my tree. I thought how beautiful. How lovely with so many ornaments filled with memories.

I found a cross-stitch of Santa Claus my mother had sewn and given to me not quite finished. It was in a basket under the table. It needed to be stuffed and stitched close. I did that then put it on my tree. Every time I see it I think of my mother who gave us all Christmas.

Usually my day off is Wednesday, but because yesterday was Christmas, I decided to muse a bit then post my memories of Christmas. I then decided today would be my Wednesday so no Coffee today. We’ll talk tomorrow.

Take Care!

The morning is cloudy and cold. We still have a bit of snow on the ground, mostly on lawns, but calling it a white Christmas would be a stretch. The first thing I did when I came downstairs was to turn on the trees and room lights. The house looks festive and Christmassy. I have presents to open, and the dogs are getting a special treat, a large frosted dog biscuit with HoHoHo on the front. I haven’t told them yet. It’s still a surprise.

My favorite Christmas morning was when I was either 11 or 12. My brother and I were up early when it was still dark. Everyone else was asleep. We got dressed and walked to church, to the first mass of Christmas morning. That had nothing to do with devotion. We just wanted to get mass out of the way so we could go back and open our presents. On the walk, no cars were on the road. Some houses were lit. People were awake. In the stillness, we could hear our footsteps. The church was almost empty. It was barely lit. Some ladies were sitting in front of one of the side altars. None of them were together as they sat singly in the pews. We sat behind all of them. The priest came out by himself, no altar boy. The mass was still in Latin. We could barely hear the whispered voices of the ladies as they gave their responses. We also whispered so as not to call attention to us. The mass was quick, no sermon, so we were on the way home quickly, our obligation finished.

One mother knew just the right gifts to give us. I don’t remember ever being disappointed. I remember being surprised. Her stocking stuffers were fabled. When I was a kid, I knew what I’d always find, crayons and a coloring book, small games, new socks and chocolate candy, but there was always the unexpected. I’d take out one present at a time. When I was older, my mother wrapped all the stocking stuffers, and I still took out one present at a time.

I loved my presents from my sisters. I had so much fun opening them. My sisters have inherited my mother’s gift giving gene. One sister found an original Ding Dong School book. They both gave me cloth ornaments, Santa’s belt and Ben Franklin. I got a few old kitchen tools, and so much more. Both sisters gave me gift cards.

Today will be quiet. I have a special Christmas dinner for this afternoon and a couple of new books, one being the new Patricia Cornwell, and I still need to finish the jigsaw puzzle, but I am making progress. One of my friends gave me cookies and peppermint bark, and my sister gave me a box of chocolate and cinnamon lollipops from See’s Candies so I’m set for goodies. I foresee a wonderful day. May your day be filled with wonder, joy and love.

Merry Christmas, my friends.

The longest night, for any kid, was not the solstice. Christmas Eve was truly the longest night. We used to think going to bed early would make the night pass faster, but my mother thought after dinner was a bit too early. She was right. It was never easy, despite the time, to fall asleep. I could hardly wait for Santa to come.

My parents always went to midnight mass. When they’d get home, it was time for Santa to come so they’d collect the toys from their hiding places and put them in plies around the tree. When I was really young, my grandparents, who also went to midnight mass, would come to my house so they could watch us see our presents. That meant waking us up long before morning. We’d sort of stumble downstairs. The toys were all around the tree. I didn’t know where to look first. My gifts were in the front, in the middle. I remember one Christmas when a giant doll sitting in front caught my eye. I sat and hugged her for a while. My grandparents would leave, and we’d have to go back to bed. It was misery leaving all those wonderful toys under the tree until morning.m

My favorite Christmas Eves were when my mother and I were the only ones awake. I’d pick a present for her to open and she’d do the same for me. They were special presents, the best presents, the ones we knew each of us would love. We’d have a drink and watch a Christmas movie, but one year we watched Christmas horror, a slasher movie, dark comedy, Jack Frost, about a serial killer embodied as a snowman. We watched the whole movie. I admit we did laugh. My trees and candles are lit. I’m going to put my outside lights on all day and night, a celebration. The weather is a bit dismal, shaky, a mixture of rain and snow. The low will be in the 30’s and the high in the low 40’s. I have to go out later. I need to pick up my Christmas dinner and a few groceries. Tonight I’ll build and decorate my gingerbread house then put it up really high. I’m making progress on my jigsaw puzzle. Right now I’m watching It’s a Wonderful Life which I watch every year. It and A Christmas Carol are traditions for me. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve seen them, but that doesn’t really matter. <!– /wp:paragraph – Happy Christmas Eve!

Today is Christmas Eve Eve.

The sun is among the missing but could appear later. I see glimpses of blue. The high today will be 30° which is, I suppose, warm in comparison to the last few days. I have a concert, the last Christmas concert, this afternoon.

We have a little snow from the other day and from a dusting last night. It will never melt. I take baby steps anytime I go outside because the walk and deck are covered in ice, craggy ice which crunches underfoot.

When I was a kid, Christmas brought wonder and joy. It touched every sense. I remember walking down the stairs in the mornings and smelling the tree, the sweetness of the pine. The tree’s aroma filled all of downstairs and even gave upstairs the hint of pine.

Colored lights were everywhere breaking through the winter darkness. The more lights the greater the delight. Every car ride was a light ride. Our tree lit up the living room. The orange window lights shined on the snow when we had a white Christmas. Our living room with just the tree lights lit was awe filled.

The kitchen smelled of cookies baking. The traditional cookie was always the sugar cookie. We got to roll the dough, press in the cookie cutters and finally decorate the cookies. My mother would put a vinyl tablecloth on the table, the better to contain the mess. Bowls of white, green and red frosting were front and center on the table. Colored sprinkles were in bowls on the table. We were traditionalists. Santa wore red, the angel was white and the tree was green. I used a toothpick to dot the trees with colored lights of frosting. Every cookie was a masterpiece.

My mother had a hi-fi. Back then, some stores and companies sold Christmas records so my mother bought a few and played them on the hi-fi. One of the albums was from Grants and a couple were from Firestone. They were the soundtracks for our cookie making. I have those albums, and I have a turntable so I get to hear them again. In my car, I have been listening to Christmas carols since after Thanksgiving. Their season is so short I never tire of them.

I’d walk by the tree and run my hand up and down a branch. The needles got sharp and would sometimes prick my fingers. My hand would smell like pine. I remember Christmas cards with a felted Santa’s suit and sometimes a felted bag. I remember rubbing the cards. They often went on the tree.

I still love being surrounded by Christmas.

Right now it is 20°. We have snow showers. Last night was even colder, down to the teens. What was frozen is still frozen. The birds are at the feeders. When I filled those feeders yesterday, I had to walk across the frozen deck. I went ever so slowly. For the rest of the day, I was a sloth.

Every morning my Alexa wakes me up at 9:30 with a cheery good morning. She tells me the time, even though it is the same every day. She tells me the weather, the high and the low, for the day. She gives me a random fact. Most mornings I then get out of bed. Alexa does her job well.

In Ghana I didn’t have an alarm clock. I had my students. Every morning was filled with sounds. They cleaned the school compound before their morning bucket baths and before their classes. I could hear the swish of the hand brooms as they tidied the ground. The brooms were short and made from grass. You had to bend over to use one. It was the sweeping outside my window which usually woke me up. My students kept my dirt tidy. I could hear chatting though I didn’t know what my students were saying as they spoke to one another in their own languages. Students stood in line for their bucket baths. I could hear the sound of the water when it first hit the metal buckets. That was the last morning ritual.

I love walking around inside my house with all the lights lit. The tree in the living room is my favorite. It does have a dark spot because I couldn’t put the star on the top of the tree, but that’s no nevermind. The scrub pine tree in the dining room has one of the old plastic Santas and an old candolier with three orange bulbs on the floor in front of it. They are two of my favorite decorations. Both of them bring me back to Christmas when I was a kid.

I remember each of the two windows flanking the picture window had a plastic candle with fake plastic candle drippings. The picture window had a five candle candolier. All the candles had orange bulbs. It seemed every house had orange bulbs in the windows. My sister thinks that the orange makes the light look like a flame. I think she’s right. The candoliers were in a plug difficult to reach so we turned the candles on and off by twisting the bulbs. On was easy. Off was not so easy as the bulbs were hot. We used to lick our fingers first so we wouldn’t get burnt.

I remember it was a race to the windows to turn on the bulbs. The race was a bit slower to turn them off.

The first thing I do every morning is let the dogs loose. After that I light the trees, the Santa’s and the stars. The house twinkles.

I see and feel the cold just by looking out the window. It is a perfect day to stay inside and bundle under the afghan on the couch and read with a couple of dogs beside me keeping me warm.

We had a dusting of snow last night then rain then freezing cold. The road is rutted with ice. The low today will be 17°. The high will be 32° as if that can be described as high.

My mother used to tease me about presents. She’d tell me knew what I was getting, and how much I’d love it. Even when I was an adult she’d tease. It was always one of the fun traditions of Christmas.

We always had an Advent calendar with little doors which were numbered 1 to 25. We’d take turns opening the day’s door. The 25th was always the manger scene. The other doors had toys, Christmas trees and an angel or two. The higher the number the closer we got to Christmas and the more excited we’d get. I remember counting the unopened doors so I knew how far away Christmas was.

My mother always put a few wrapped presents under the tree. I think she did it deliberately to drive us crazy. We’d shake and squeeze the presents hoping to guess what they were. The pajamas, destined to be opened on Christmas Eve, were easy. My sister knew what many of the other presents were. She could see through the small hidden hole she had torn in each present.

Every year the school had a Christmas fair. It was up the street at the town hall. We walked there in class lines in twos accompanied by the nuns, but once we’d arrive, the nuns let us loose. The big hall had tables filled with gifts and cookies. My mother would give us money to buy gifts and lunch, usually a hot dog. The best table was the children’s table. It was loaded with gifts to buy which were a dime or a quarter. One year my sister bought my mother a Christmas cactus. It was kept on the end of the kitchen table by the window. It got enormous over the years and flowered every Christmas. It lived for 60 or 65+ years.

Today I still need to fill the bird feeders as I couldn’t in the rain. I hope to build the gingerbread house I bought yesterday, and I have a Christmas jigsaw puzzle to put together. I also have my book. The day will be filled.

Last night it rained, but the morning is clear and bright. It is in the 40’s. Tonight will be a bit more wintry, down to the 30’s. By Saturday, that will be the daytime temperature. It’s a perfect time to snuggle under a blanket on the couch. I’m thinking a cup of cocoa in hand with Marshmallow Fluff floating on the top would hit the spot.

When I was a kid, the mailman came twice a day during the Christmas season. Our mailbox was filled with cards each time. We’d take turns opening the cards then hang them on the string strung across the living room wall behind the couch. My mother had a card box filled with index cards with names at the top. She’d keep track of sent and received cards. If a couple of years went by with no card, my mother would stop sending a Christmas card to the miscreant. Their index card was banished to the back of the box.

I’d lie on the floor in front of the tree and go through the Sears catalog time and time again. I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything, and I wanted to keep my list for Santa up to date. No clothes ever made the list, no self-serving kid ever wanted clothes at Christmas.

We watched Santa Claus on TV in the afternoons. He was on a station from New Hampshire. He’d chat, show toys the elves had made and sometimes read a book. He’d countdown the days until Christmas Eve, his big day. I remember on that day he’d get the reindeer ready and remind us we needed to be asleep before his arrival.

Christmas lights brighten every room in my downstairs, even the bathroom. I go around every night turning them on. The tree is always first. I light it then stand awhile just looking at the tree. It always delights me. The table lights, the fireplace lights and three Santas are next. I leave the lamps unlit. The room is magical. The room is lit with Christmas.

My house smells like Christmas. The aroma of pine fills the air. Cinnamon, cloves, cranberries and orange rinds simmer on the stove. It smells almost good enough to eat.

Sorry about yesterday. It was late afternoon when I got home, and I needed to decorate my tree. I’m happy to say it is ready for ornaments. The lights and tinsel are on the tree. It took me a while to get the tinsel just right. I also added popcorn and cranberries strings, stars and a strand of colorful balls of yarn. The tree is perfect.

It started raining around two this morning. It is gone now, but the rain left the day dark and damp; however it does have a saving factor. Right now it is 53°.

When I was a kid, I always wanted a white Christmas. Snow at Christmas seemed magical. After all, Santa had a sleigh. How could we build Frosty without snow? Even Scrooge had snow. I’d look out the window hoping for a miracle. Sometimes I got one.

In Ghana, where I lived, Christmas was harmattan time when hot, dry winds carried sand from the Sahara. The days were often hazy, and the sun was hidden. The dryness chapped my lips and my heels cracked. I slathered everything with lotion, but I had to walk on my tiptoes for a while. One good part of the harmattan was the bugs disappeared. Another was the dry heat during the day which made the, sometimes, 100° more bearable, but the best parts were the nights. The temperature dropped sometimes as low as the 60’s, and I swear it got down to the 50’s a few nights. I was cold. It was the most wonderful feeling. I bought a wool blanket, still have it.

When I had a party on Christmas Eve my first year in Ghana, my house was filled with Peace Corps volunteers going north. They had stopped in Bolgatanga, where I lived, to get transport as Bolga was close to the northern border of Ghana and what was Upper Volta, now Burkina Faso. Toward the end of the party, some of us went outside behind my house and sat and talked. The night was magnificent. The sky was so filled with stars the darkness had disappeared. The air was chilly, a wonderful feeling after the heat of the day. It was then we realized that this night filled with stars and a bit of a chill might just be the same as that night in Bethlehem. We sat quietly for a bit then went back into the house.

That first Christmas so far from home was unexpectedly amazing.

The heat is blasting trying to ward off the cold. It is 31°. The car windows are covered with frosty looking snowflakes. The grass crunches underfoot. It is indeed a winter wonderland.

My tree has already filled the house with the sweet aroma of pine; however, it is still undecorated. I hauled so many boxes up and down yesterday I ran out of steam. Today I have a concert so I will decorate later. The lights are ready to be strung.

I caught Nala in the act of stealing a shepherd, one with a sheep across his shoulders. I yelled for her to stop, and she ignored me as usual. I followed her outside calling her a bad dog and asking her to drop it. Nala hates being called a bad dog especially when she is guilty of something. She stops, wags her tail and her body, the way only a boxer does, and drops her pelf. The shepherd was saved! The nativity is now under wraps.

When I was a kid, every day was agony, another day to wait until Christmas. Time stretched out seemingly forever. In school we sang Christmas carols and practiced for the play of the big day, the birth. We practiced the Bible verses about the trip to Bethlehem, the announcement from the angels, the surprise of the shepherds and the birth in the stable. We had to memorize our lines. They were exact from the Bible. They weren’t easy. I was an angel. I told the shepherds.

When I was a kid, I never doubted the existence of Santa Claus. Maybe if I had stopped to think, I’d have caught on to the ploy. Naughty or nice list? Santa sees you when you are sleeping and when you’re awake? What parent wouldn’t use the threat of Santa? We were good out of fear.

My mother told me I knew all the words to ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas when I was little. I got the meaning of the story. I just didn’t know what all the words meant. I remember being perplexed when the man opened his window threw up the sash. Why did he eat it in the first place?