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.

Today will be short. I am taking a break today and tomorrow. Tuesday after uke practice I was walking to my car when I hit the deck, the paved deck. My face hit the ground first. I just laid there not moving because of the injury. People came out and immediately took care of me. They helped me sit up, provided tissues for the wound and called 911. I was checked in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. One of the guys took my picture with my phone for posterity.

While I was being wheeled into the emergency room, every person looked.

My nose has lost a layer of skin and is so red Santa could have me lead his sleigh if Rudolph needs a rest. My upper lip is missing a bit and is still swollen, and there is damage to my teeth. The doctor couldn’t stitch because of the lip. Nothing broke. I was in the hospital until 1.

The first night was tough, but last night was better. I am heading to the dentist today and my doctor tomorrow. My face is still scary, and it hurts. My friends have rallied. One friend stayed with me at the hospital and drove me home. Another brought ice cream, and he and his wife brought my car home. Today my hospital friend is driving me to the dentist. I’m figuring I can drive tomorrow.

My face is still a bit scary looking, but it does feel better each day. I am on the mend.

The morning is drab, cloudy, windy and chilly. Showers are predicted. But despite the ugly weather, I don’t get to stay close to hearth and home today. I have to go out later as it is shot day again, pneumonia and shingles this time, the last of my shots. I also have uke practice tonight. Our first Christmas concert is tomorrow. Tis’ the season!

When I was kid, snow was an opportunity. Lots of snow meant sitting around the kitchen table listening for the fire station horn to blow to announce no school. We didn’t have it streaming on the TV back then. We had the horn. After the celebration for no school, we’d layer to go out into the snow. I wore a shirt, a sweater and my winter coat. I would cram my shoes into my boots. I’d grab a hat and my mittens then I’d haul my sled out of the cellar, but it was easy to carry, not like my bike. I lived on a great hill for sledding. It was tall and steep. About midway down, my sled would gain speed. At the bottom of the hill there was a road, and we’d post lookouts watching for the cars. A good run meant crossing the road onto the field across the street where the sled would stop in a pile of snow. I’d stay sledding until my mittens were caked with snow and my lips were turning blue.

After sledding all day, a cup of cocoa was the best warm-up. My mother used to put the cocoa in the cup, add milk, stir them together then add hot water. On the top she’d put a spoonful of Marshmallow Fluff. I remember it would melt a bit then spread and cover the whole top of the cocoa. It would also cover my upper lip.

My sister and I have discussed our Christmas trees. She is the slave of three cats, two of whom would love the challenge of the tree. I have Nala, enough said! My sister has decided to decorate her tree with only lights. I’m thinking I’ll put baubles, colored round ornaments of little value, on the bottom of my tree. I’m hoping Nala will might leave them alone, but I could be wrong. She is the consummate thief.

Late last night it poured. The wind screamed. Windows shook. I heard a branch fall. Both dogs sat up and listened, their ears cocked to the sound, but hearing nothing else, they settled in and went back to sleep. The dogs are my barometer for things that go bump in the night. If they go back to sleep, all is well.

Today is a delight. It is 54° with a bright sun. The breeze is strong enough to sway the pine branches but not enough to cool the day. The oak trees still have brown dead leaves waiting to fall. The dogs love this weather. They are outside for so long I check the yard just to make sure they haven’t escaped. In my head, I know they are still in the yard as they are not escape artists like Gracie was, but I still need a bit of reassurance so I check.

When I was a kid, the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas seemed interminable. We’d lie on the rug and pour through the Sears catalog circling and uncircling our Christmas wishes. Once the turkey was history, we’d beg for our tree, but my father always said it was too soon after Thanksgiving, but we’d badger him relentlessly, and, under the pressure, he’d finally give in. My father always picked out the tree. I remember him hauling it from the car into the house, putting it in the stand, moving the tree back and forth in the stand until it was straight and then tightening the screws with one hand while holding the tree with the other. The tree always went in the same corner between two windows. To me every tree was beautiful though my father was more interested in price, not so much in full branches. There were always holes, but we didn’t notice. We had our tree.

The tree would stand for a while to let the branches fall. The house smelled of pine. It smelled of Christmas.