This morning’s weather seems to be the trend. It is again damp and cloudy. Color has disappeared. The pine trees in my backyard are silhouetted against the grey sky. The occasional breeze ruffles the dead leaves at the ends of the tallest oak branches. Nothing outside is inviting today.

My friends dropped by yesterday. They were in their car, and I was on the walkway to my house. We chatted a long time, long enough for frostbite to tickle my toes. I was so happy to see friends in real life.

I am in a never-ending battle with cardboard boxes. I do recycle them, but they need a ride to the dump so now my backseat and front passenger seat are filled. I could break them down, but I tried once and the box was stronger than I was, and I nearly fell over. In my defense, it was a huge box. Anyway, I am scheduling the dump run for Wednesday as it is closed tomorrow and Tuesday, and the trash isn’t quite ready yet.

When I was a kid, the trash trucks came once a week. Two guys hung off the back. They were the ones who jumped off, grabbed barrels from the sidewalks and dumped them at the back of the truck. Beside them on the truck was a lever. That was for the compressor (I’m guessing its name) which flattened trash and pushed it to the back. The truck motor was loud, but the compressor was louder. We’d stand on the sidewalk and watch the trash get flattened. It was worth our attention, kind of exciting.

Christmas is so close, but I have everything I need readied. I have the best appies for Christmas Eve, coconut shrimp with mango sauce and crab rangoon. I have a bottle of champagne and some orange juice for Christmas morning mimosas, a Ryan family tradition. The egg nog is chilled and ready for a bit of spirits. Dinner is ordered to be picked up on Christmas Eve morning. The presents are under my tree and on the hearth. There are lots of them.

My sister, Moe, when she was a kid would tear tiny holes in any presents under the tree. She was quite adept at hiding the holes. We just knew they were there. She also developed an uncanny gift of correctly guessing presents. She’d pick up a present, shake it and that was it. Surprise gone. Now, Moe waits, sometimes what seems like too long a time to open her presents. Somebody should check for holes.