Keep the Coffee Comimg

The morning is cold, a crisp cold. The sky is mostly gray with a slight tinge of blue. Today will be in the high 30’s so I’m glad for no wind. I have to go to the dump, the cold, always windy, Russian steppes dump.

When I was a kid, after Thanksgiving, when December rolled around, it was time to start thinking about Christmas. I’d spend hours going through the Sears catalog trying to figure out what I wanted. My choices changed every time I looked. I’d circle the gifts, always on the toy pages. I’d use a pencil and put my initials next to my choice. When I changed my mind, and I always changed my mind this early, I’d erase the circle. I never looked through the clothes pages. Christmas was not for clothes.

I remember the threat of Santa Claus. That threat took the place of, “I’m going to tell your father when he gets home.” My father just yelled. Santa put you on the naughty list and gave you coal. My mother was the best threat giver. She had us all scared that we’d find nothing under the tree. The closer we got to Christmas the better we were. The advantage went to my mother.

I’d watch my father when he’d decorate the bushes outside the house. The light bulbs were colored and large. Nobody used white lights back then, not even in windows. I remember the year of orange bulbs in the front windows, one in each side window and a five bulb candolier in the picture window. The candles were white plastic with fake drippings and were so light they had to be taped to the windowsill or they’d fall to the floor.

I’m amazed at the number of houses already decorated for Christmas. I’ll do mine when we get a warmish day. My neighbor’s house was lit up last night for the first time. He has white light wreaths in every front window. I drive slower this time of year so I can see all the lights, especially the lights shining through windows from the Christmas trees inside.

It is cold but today is a wonderful day to take a ride. The sun is framed in a deep blue sky. The air is still. I do have a couple of errands to finish if I am so inclined. I do need bread.

The Ryan household is in the middle of a computer crisis. A while back my MacBook Pro stopped charging so I started using my iPad; however it has developed the same issue. I will try to get my PC fixed and hope the iPad keeps on chugging. If I am unlucky, Coffee will be on a forced hiatus.

I think I may be maligning Nala. I know she is guilty of theft but maybe not as much as I suspected. Yesterday I was doing a bit of cleaning. My stuffed toy sloth fell out of a basket to the floor. When I went to pick it up, it had disappeared. Henry had stolen it and carried it into the hall.

I think I am in danger of being drummed out of the sloth family. Yesterday I vacuumed a couple of rooms and watered the plants. Today I needed to find a folder so I attacked the three baskets under the table in the den. I filled two bags with recyclables and another bag with trash. I neatened every basket. I then vacuumed the den and hall. I am exhausted.

My father picked the turkey carcass clean. He was a master at it. He left little on the bone, only a few bits for the broth when the carcass boiled. I think turkey soup was my favorite left over. Warm bread for dunking made the meal almost heavenly.

I don’t remember when we started decorating for Christmas, but it was never early enough for me. We had ceramic Santas, Noel cups and cardboard decorations which were the first to come out of the boxes. The nativity went up without baby Jesus. He didn’t appear until Christmas. The tree was last. My father always picked out our tree even though he wasn’t the best tree picking expert. Cost was part of his decision. The tree always had bare spots. He unraveled the lights, clumped together in a box. He was never patient. I remember the bulbs were big and got hot. Once the lights were on the tree, he was done. That was his contribution. The rest of us carried on. My mother was always the last to finish decorating. She was the icicle lady, one strand at a time.