The morning is pretty, bright and clear. Everything is still. It is in the low 40’s, warm by winter standards. The dogs are having their morning naps, not to be confused with their afternoon naps or their evening naps. I’m almost healed, but I’m still tired. I’ll join the dogs for an afternoon nap on the couch. This is a busy week, a busy uke week with practice, a lesson and four concerts though I won’t attend them all, maybe only three. I still need my tree. I’m thinking Thursday. I just haven’t felt good enough. The next time I hit the deck I hope it is during a quiet time of the year, certainly not at Christmas, my favorite time of the year.

My sisters and I say we got the Christmas bug from our mother. She always made the season so very wonderful. The house was filled with fun and unique Christmas decorations. The tree stood in a corner of the living room in all three houses where we lived. The nutcracker wearing red stood by the fireplace as did the Santa I needle pointed for my mother one year. The old ceramic Santa cups spelling noel for the handles and Mr. and Mrs Claus salt and pepper shakers came out every year. I found the same Santa cups and salt and pepper shakers and bought them. They are on my table every year. Santa has a curly beard. The shadow box above the couch got a small garland across the top. Every table had some sort of decoration. The dining room table groaned under the weight of all those cookies.

One of my favorite Christmas traditions was going to the Christmas fair held by my parish every year. It was at the town hall up the street from my school. We walked two by two by class from the school accompanied by the nuns. Once we reached the town hall, we were free. My mother gave us money for lunch and for buying some Christmas presents. The lunch was hot dogs every year. They had tables with inexpensive gifts. Some gifts were only a dime. My sister Moe bought my mother a Christmas cactus one year. It lived forever, even longer than my mother. It was on the end of the kitchen table by the window. Every year it bloomed with red flowers. I remember buying white handkerchiefs for my father. He always carried one in his back pocket. It was always rumpled.

Last night the mighty storm started. The rain pelted the windows. The wind shook the house and trees. I could hear the chimes from the pine tree branch by the back stairs. Its sound sweetened the air. The rain is still falling, but the wind has subsided. The morning is warm, in the high 40’s. I will not be getting my tree today.

The dogs went out this morning then turned right around and came back inside. They are not rain dogs. I have left the back door open in case their need is greater than their dislike for the rain.

Today I hope to start decorating for Christmas. I also want to write out my Christmas cards. I bought them last summer at the Edward Gorey house.

I love my Christmas ornaments. Every year when I put them on the tree they bring back so many memories. Some are glass ornaments from my childhood trees. My mother gave us each a box of them. I always put them high up as my cat likes to whack hanging ornaments, and now Nala presents a danger. She’ll steal anything. I have ornaments from Ghana. Some are bead people and a couple look like the round family compounds from up north where I lived. Every time I travel I bring back ornaments from the countries I visit. From Hungary are two doilies with designs in the middle. They are heart shaped. I have a wooden Pinocchio from a small toy shop in Florence. I have cloth ornaments from Peru. They are from a small outdoor market in Puno. A few ornaments are gaudy souvenirs. One is of Christ the Redeemer in Rio. It is small and round with a garish blue background. Another is a picture of the site at the equator. It has a shack on it, the same place where I bought the souvenir. From Morocco, I have tassels, two of them, one red and the other orange. Because Morocco is an Islamic country, the tassels were the best I could do. They hang from the ends of branches, and the bottoms sway when I walk by them.

I have several cloth ornaments. Some are historical figures like Abagail Adams and George Washington. A few are poets. Emily Dickinson is one of them. Captain Hook is always placed right by Peter Pan but never close enough for Hook’s purposes. Mark Twain and Sherlock Holmes are made of some stiff material. Twain is holding a book. I have a new one, Edgar Allan Poe.

Every year Christmas brings with it all of my past Christmases. Each one holds memories and dreams and even a few hopes.

The morning is warm at 56°. Rain is predicted. The sky has started to cloud over, light clouds still. The breeze is strong. The few oak leaves left on the branches are fluttering. I am feeling better though still coughing, but I want to decorate for Christmas anyway. I hope to put the lights on my deck rail. I have already decorated a swag for my front door. I’d love to buy my tree today so maybe the rain will hold off. If not, I’ll decorate inside.

When I was a kid, our house wasn’t very big. At Christmas time, the tree dominated the living room. I’d sometimes lie under it to look at the lights. They were big colorful bulbs. They were mesmerizing.

My favorite cookies at Christmas have always been sugar cookies. My mother had old cookie cutters. She had Santa, an angel, a bell, a tree and a star. I’d watch her roll out the dough then use the cookies cutters. Once the cookies were in the oven the whole house smelled of the baking cookies. That is one of my favorite Christmas smells. Even though right from the oven the cookies were hot, we begged for one. I remember shifting it from hand to hand to cool it. The first bite was heavenly.

After they all had cooled, we decorated. My mother made the frosting, put it in bowls and colored the frosting in each bowl. We had red, green, yellow and blue. We used butter knives to put on the frosting. Delicate was not part of the decorating. Santa was always red. The stars were always yellow. The tree was green, and I’d add dots of other colors to look like lights. The bell could be any color. To get extra fancy, we’d also use sprinkles. My mother had multi-colored ones and green and red ones. After we had finished, the cookies were put on cooling racks so the frosting would set. We’d all sit and look as if looks could get them to set faster. Before my mother put them away, we got to pick one. I chose either the Santa or the tree. They were the biggest.

I have come to believe I am living under a curse. First it was the fall, and I am still in the midst of the aftermath, but it is getting better, my face that is. My teeth, though, still hurt as does part of my lip on one side, and there is an ugly scab, one which draws looks or averted eyes. Yesterday’s curse was the sodden English muffin. This morning I woke up with a cold. I have decided to stay home today, walk gently and spend most of my time on the couch. That last one I do well.

Yesterday’s concert was wonderful. The audience sang along with the carols. We wore red, fun hats and fascinators. I wore my red Converse high tops. The sound effects included bells and whirrs and a drum.

On Christmas Eve, we were always allowed to open one present, but we had no choice as to which present. It was always the new pajamas. A few other wrapped presents were under the tree. They were from my parents. Santa never wrapped his gifts. He placed them around the tree in groupings, one pile for each of us. I remember going down the stairs and looking over the banister at the lit tree and all the presents around it. A new game was always upright in the front. I remember the year it was Sorry. The most amazing present was my bike, my very first new bike. It was all by itself along the picture window. It had a bow on the handlebar and a basket in front. I took that bike out on Christmas Day and rode it up and down the street. I was still in my pajamas.

I don’t remember Christmas morning breakfasts. I do remember eating some of the chocolate from my stocking. It was allowed. When I was an adult, I always went to my parent’s house for Christmas. I’d make a breakfast casserole on Christmas Eve so we could stick it in the oven in the morning. We always had mimosas Christmas morning. Even now, I usually make myself a pitcher of mimosas. It is, after all, the tradition.

Today is a busy day for me. My first concert since the mighty fall is this afternoon. I have collected everything I need: a festive red shirt, red Converse, bells and silly hats. I also have my music and my music stand. I’m ready.

I swear I am living under a cloud. This morning I toasted a lemon, blueberry muffin. I grabbed it and my coffee, went to the den, put my coffee down on the table and was about to sit when one side of the muffin slid off the plate. It landed in the coffee cup, and coffee flew all over the table. Of all places to land!

My father always put the tree in the same corner, the one between the windows where the TV usually sat. It was moved for the holiday. One year, when my parents were out, the tree fell. My brother and I rushed to save it. I grabbed the trunk, and he grabbed the base of the tree which was leaning out of the stand. We tried to get it to stand on its own, but it kept falling so we took turns holding it up until my parents came home. My father used wire around the trunk and attached the ends to the two windows. The tree stayed tall.

The tree was decorated the same way every year. First, my father put on the lights but only after he had untangled them. Next came the tinsel, strands of sparkling aluminum in silver, red or gold, strung around the tree. The ornaments followed. My mother’s favorite Christmas ornaments were giant, colored balls. We were not allowed to touch them. She always put them on the topmost branches. We decorated with the smaller balls. They were different colors and had designs on one side like a house with a star above. The ornaments were silver, gold, red and green. We made sure to place them on sturdy branches. I remember we also had a Santa drinking Coke with a hole in the top of the cardboard for hanging. That was one we put in the middle to hide a hole. We made ornaments every year so they were on the tree. One of my mine was voted the ugliest, but it went on the tree anyway. Icicles were last. My mother was patient. We were not. By that time we were tired of decorating. We tossed the icicles in bunches. She hung them one by one. She made the tree beautiful.

Today I am late. I had a dentist appointment and stopped at my doctor’s. The dentist just checked my teeth and decided I needed an anti-biotic. At the doctor’s, I needed a medication processed. I’ve decided if I ever fall again, I’d like to break my arm instead.

It is cold, down to the high 20’s. I blasted the car heater and wished I was home.

When I was a kid, the mailman, at Christmas time, came twice a day. Each time, our mailbox was filled with Christmas cards. We took turns opening them. All of our relatives and all of the neighbors sent cards. My mother kept track of the senders in her card box. A few years of no cards from someone had them bumped off my mother’s list. We used to hang the cards on string around the living room. A few went on the Christmas tree to cover the bare spots in the middle. My Aunt Barbara always sent individual cards to each of us. I loved getting her card. It made me feel special.

My town always decorated the square for christmas. Just down from square, the fire station was totally outlined in lights. A Santa sat on the roof. It was spectacular. Hung over the Main Street from streetlight to streetlight were strands of fir with lights and glittering stars. I remember one year, in the middle of each strand, hung a bell. The lights on the strands turned on when it got dark. All the stores were open, their windows bright. They were decorated for the holiday, nothing spectacular but still festive and worth a stop and maybe an ooh and an ahh.

The square was the center of town back then. All the stores were there. At Christmas time, the sidewalks were filled with shoppers. Every night kids stood on a stage across from the Children’s Corner and sang Christmas carols. The schools took turns. I was there singing for all I was worth when it was my school’s turn. I always hoped someone who knew me would notice.

Last night it started raining around ten. I heard the drops. Today is dismal. It is a dark, chilly morning. Everything is still damp from last night. A wind is blowing the last of the leaves to the ground. The dogs were out and back quickly.

Tonight is our uke Christmas party. It was a week ago when I fell coming out of uke practice. Tonight is my return to the fold.

I played my Christmas album the other day and thought about when we made it. I was in the sixth grade. Guy Lombardo came to my parish, St. Patrick’s, every year to play at a dance. He was a friend of one of the parish priests. When Guy Lombardo decided he would make a Christmas album with children’s voices, he chose us. The front of the album cover says, “Recorded Live at Town Hall, St. Patrick’s Parish, Stoneham, Massachusetts.” I remember the day we recorded it during April vacation. The band, the Royal Canadiens, Guy Lombardo and Kenny Gardner, the singer, were on the stage. Under the stage was where all the recording equipment was. We, my classmates and I, were standing together in front of the stage. We had song books with all the lyrics. First we’d practice each song then sing for the recording. Kenny Gardner would sing each song first then we’d join in. For some songs we had several takes. The recording took all day. At the end, Guy Lombardo thanked us and gave us all Hoodsies. Despite my talents, I haven’t recorded another album.

My sister in Colorado is the only one of us who still has her original stocking. We all had the same stockings, red with a white cuff around the top. On the fronts of the white cuffs our names were written in gold glitter. We hung them every Christmas on the small bannister at the bottom of the stairs. We never questioned the lack of a chimney, Santa’s traditional entry. We all accepted that Santa was magical, and he would find a way.

The morning is a delight, bright and sunny and calm. It is a warm day, in the high 40’s. The dogs love this weather and stay outside a long while. I check periodically. Henry sniffs the yard. Nala does a zoomie or two.

My wounds are now black and blue. They are healing. When I’m in a store, people see my face and turn away. I don’t know if it is politeness or horror. Maybe it is a little of both.

Yesterday was a busy day. I was out and about doing errands. I made seven stops, most in the morning. My laundry is put away, the trash is dumped, the dogs have food, my car has gas, and I bought a few groceries for me including more grape-nut custard. I got to eat it before Nala did. It was a banner day but an exhausting day.

At the beginning of December when I was a kid, we had an advent wreath, an evergreen wreath with four candles around it and one more candle in the middle. Each of the four candles represented an Advent Sunday, the countdown to Christmas, so the first candle was lit on the first Sunday of Advent and an additional candle was lit every week until all the candles were lit. The middle candle was lit on Christmas Eve. We had a sheet from school with the prayers to be said as we lit the candles. I remember standing around the wreath while the prayers were said. I don’t remember a single prayer. I remember having to take turns lighting the candles and being mesmerized by the flickering flames.

We had bubble lights on our Christmas tree. They stood up straight at the ends of the branches. The bottoms of the lights lit up and were different colors: red, green and yellow. A small vial of liquid stood in the middle of the colored base. We used to sit and watch the bubble lights hoping to be the one to find the first bubbler. It was an every night contest. I have that set from my childhood, but I don’t light it. I’m a bit afraid of the old cord and whatever the liquid is. I do have a new set of bubble lights. I put them at the ends of the branches and watch for the first bubbler. It is tradition.

Lots to do today. This will be my most ambitious day. The dogs need food, the trash needs dumping and the laundry needs washing. I’m sure by afternoon it will be nap time.

Many houses are already lit for Christmas. Some are extraordinary with the house, trees and grounds covered in lights. My neighborhood has a few houses all ready for Christmas. I need Skip, my factotum, here to do mine. I might need a few new light strands for the front. I do have a few new lights for the railing and the fence in the backyard. I can do those myself, maybe Monday.

I remember one Christmas when I was a kid, the year we got a telegram from Santa. On the telegram there was a picture of Santa riding in his sleigh. The heading was Dear Ryan Children. Santa mentioned he expected we would be good, and he was looking forward to visiting us on Christmas Eve. I still have that telegram. It has yellowed.

I loved our trips to Boston around Christmas time. The store windows were all decorated. Some figures moved. Their heads nodded and their arms moved mostly up and down. I remember two kids with ornaments in their hands reaching to place the ornaments on a tree. By today’s standards the movements were primitive, jerky, but I thought them magical. In Jordan Marsh the Enchanted Village was window after window of holiday scenes with moving figures. The line to see Santa passed by all the enchanted windows so nobody minded the wait. The trees in the Boston Common were all lit with colored bulbs. They shined bright against the bare branches. In one part of the Common were fenced in live reindeer. We’d walk through the Common oohing and ahing at the lights. I remember the nights were crisp cold. I could see my breath.

Sometimes we’d buy popcorn and munch while we walked. On the street in front of the Common men were selling chestnuts roasting over charcoal fires in small wagons. My father once bought some. I thought they tasted awful.

I remember we fell asleep in the car on the way home.

I am glad to be back writing again.

I have spent the last two days being checked and prodded by my dentist and my doctor. The dentist just wanted to check the injuries as my teeth are too painful for any work on them. They took x-rays of the upper teeth. My dentist said they were the most damaged. I’ve another appointment with him next week when, I hope, the teeth will be fixed. My doctor wanted another c-scan so I drove to Hyannis. Everything is fine.

I have black and blues from each corner of my mouth. They go down to my chin. Both of then sort of look like parts of a Fu Manchu mustache.

I am feeling better, still a sight, but feeling better. I do get looks everywhere I go. I wish I had a mask, a Jason Voorhees mask. That would keep people at a distance.

Today is a grey day. It is warm though. Last night it rained. Tomorrow it will rain again. This seems the wrong season for rain though I don’t wish for snow and all it entails.

I have missed my first two uke Christmas concerts and will miss another today. I’m so disappointed, but there are two or three I hope to make next week.

When I was a kid, Christmas never seemed to come soon enough. December was the longest month. The days darkened early so outside playtime was limited. We watched TV in the afternoon and waited for dinner. I remember when the Christmas candle lights were put in the windows on the front of the house. The bulbs were always orange. You had to twist the bulbs to turn them on and off. The picture window had a 5 bulb candelabra. We used to race to see who would turn on the bulbs. My father put lights on the bushes beside the door. The strands were always tangled when he brought the lights from the cellar so for my impatient father cursing was part of the festivities. The bulbs were colored and were big. They got really hot. The outlet for the bulbs was inside the house so one front window was open on the bottom. When it was time to turn off the window lights, we all raced again. The bulbs, lit for so long, had gotten hot we’d have to wet our fingers before twisting the bulbs. The living room always seemed so much darker without the candles.