The wind howled last night. I could hear branches brushing the side of the house. The dogs were out and back quickly. They ran close to the ground. Today is still. The sky is grey, but sun is predicted. It is in the mid-forties but feels cold. Two of my chores for today are domestic. The kitchen floor is lost under paw prints from the last two rainstorms, and I have to change my bed before the sheets walk away.

Yesterday I was in a wrapping frenzy. I concentrated on Colorado gifts. I got all the kids but one done, and today I’ll wrap his and Moe and Rod’s presents. I want them wending their way west by Tuesday.

My den is a mess covered with bags, gifts, wrapping paper and a couple of bins. Walking in and out has the potential for disaster. Nala checks the bags when she is heading for the couch.

This morning my yard was filled with snow, not really snow but rather pillow fluff, compliments of Nala, the destroyer of worlds. She must have been bored as she stole a small pillow from my bedroom. I found the cover which is filthy, but I think it will return to its pristine condition when I wash it. A bit ago I heard a box hit the steps. Nala dropped it in the midst of the steal. I have moved the cat gate across the top of the stairs. I hate having to do that as both dogs like to nap on my bed, but I don’t trust Nala.

When I was a kid, Christmas could never come soon enough especially after our house was decorated, and the tree was in its place in the corner of the room. We used to lie under it to be surrounded by the lights and the aroma of the pine. I remember one time the tree fell. My parents were out doing errands. My brother and I took turns holding the tree up by the trunk until they got home when my father took over. He attached wire on two sides of the trunk then wound the wire around the locks of two windows. They held.

My mother used to wrap a couple of presents for each of us and put them under the tree. We knew what the presents were, new pajamas and slippers to wear on Christmas Eve so we’d look good for the pictures Christmas morning. We were never excited at the thought of opening those presents.

My plans for today were thwarted by the rain. It was to be outside lights day; instead, it is inside wrap presents day. Yesterday I brought all the gifts down from my bedroom in tubs then I divided them into bags for each person. Only one tub is still upstairs. I’ll bring that down when I have room for it. Last night my back ached, but it was no never mind. I felt quite accomplished.

If I were to list the worst possible catastrophic failures, on top of the list would be loss of heat in winter. Second would be no electricity. The third happened this morning. My coffee maker shut itself off, and it wouldn’t stay on unless I held the little lever. Every time I let go, the brewing ceased. I raised my head and howled. I tried again and again and finally persistence held forth. The light went on, stayed on, and the coffee dripped into the carafe. I danced in glee. The dogs watched in horror.

When I was a kid, the Christmas lights were huge and multi-colored. They were the old if one bulb was bad the whole strand wouldn’t work. I remember my father cursing the lights as he checked bulb after bulb. Finally, he figured out what he needed to do. He replaced every bulb then tried the old bulbs one at a time. He found success.

Our tree had bubble lights. They stood up almost like candles on the ends of the branches. We used to sit on the floor to watch those lights so we could yell out when the first one started to bubble.

I remember how hot those bulbs got. My brother and I used to play who could hold the bulb the longest. The winner had pain, red palms and bragging rights. I still love colored lights. They go on my front fence and the top of the deck rail. On my tree, white lights go inside up the trunk so they shine like stars. Colored strands of lights are wound around the rest of the tree. I have a set of new bubble lights. I sit and watch until the first one bubbles. It’s a Christmas tradition.