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Category: holidays

City Walks

City Walks

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We still have a few days, but New Year’s resolutions are beginning to coalesce. Or at least one of them is. 

Yesterday, I drove Celia and Matt into D.C. to save them a Metro trip. I was surprised by how excited I was to see the city spread out  beyond the river, first the Washington Monument swinging into focus and, a second or two later, the Capitol behind it. 

It was chilly enough to feel like winter but without the biting cold of recent days. Sidewalks were clogged with holiday visitors. There was a celebratory feeling in the air. 

I found a convenient spot to pull over and drop them off, and even more remarkably, was able to make a (perhaps illegal) U-turn at 12th to head home. But I couldn’t help looking for parking places on Constitution on the return trip. Wouldn’t it be nice to walk in the city instead of the suburbs? 

I didn’t do it yesterday, but a new year beckons. It’s only a matter of time. 

Preserving the Cheer

Preserving the Cheer

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I just watered the Christmas tree, able to reach the stand now that gifts are opened. At this point a few needles are beginning to litter the red felt skirt, but the tree has at least another week to grace the living room.

When I worked full-time, the week between Christmas and New Years Day was all about relaxation. It still is, but now the focus is more on preserving the holiday spirit as long as possible — not always easy in a December 25th-centric world.

So we watched “Elf” last night and are still nibbling on sugared star and candy-cane cookies. The egg nog is flowing freely and stockings (mostly empty) hang from the mantel.

It’s not December 20th … but it’s not January 2nd, either.

(A poinsettia catches the morning light.)
The Christmas Special

The Christmas Special

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In preparation for family visiting since last week, I did something I seldom do around the holidays: got ahead of the game. Christmas cards are written and mailed. Cookies are baked. Gifts are purchased and (almost) wrapped. 

While there may be trips for last-minute items, for the most part I have a little more time than I usually have. I won’t say I’m caught up, but holiday preparations are flowing along at a slightly more leisurely pace than they usually do. And that means I can linger at the breakfast table and work in a walk here and there. 

When I was young I remember Mom sighing this time of year, saying that if only she could finish all the buying/wrapping/baking, she’d have time to settle down and watch one of those Christmas specials on TV. I think what she was wishing for was time to savor what she had created — the ever-elusive pause before the chaos of Christmas Eve and Day. 

It’s still dark outside, but so far I’m the only one awake. I’m about to stream a holiday movie. It’s my Christmas special. 

The Christmas Position

The Christmas Position

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I’m in what I’ve come to think of as my Christmas position. Unlike the warrior pose or downward dog, this position requires very little of the joints and tendons. It is, in fact, a posture of repose, of satiation. 

All that’s required is that I plop down on the couch, facing north, a pile of  books beside me and (sometimes, like now) a laptop in my lap, and savor the Christmas tree, which is, as always, the most beautiful one we’ve ever had, the fullest and most aromatic. 

I’m not usually able to still and just be, but this time of year, when I’m in the Christmas position, that’s all I want to do. 

Wreathed in Fog

Wreathed in Fog

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A soft fog last night as I drove to a meeting. A fog that made the lighted trees and homes send halo-like rainbows into the gloom. 

Our house is finally among the decorated, with candles in the windows and lights along the roof and a big old wreath that I bought as a splurge because it smells so much nicer than the artificial one — and also because it was made by Bradley’s mother. 

That would be Bradley from Whitetop Mountain, Virginia, the same fellow we bought from last year. He apologized that the trees cost more this December and said he would “work with us” on the price. I bought the wreath to up the total. Bradley and his family could use it, I imagine. 

And now the wreath and the lights are shaking their fists at the darkness. In less than two weeks, the days start growing longer. 

Malls of America

Malls of America

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Darkened storefronts, sparse merchandise, even the busy Apple store was quiet yesterday at the mall. True, it was a rainy Tuesday more than two weeks away from the big day, but even a few years ago it would have been bustling. Not for the first time I ask myself … where have all the people gone? 

They’re in their homes, collecting Amazon deliveries. While in the sad cavernous halls poor souls wander, looking for candles or purses or calendars, strolling through clouds of perfume and the scent of cinnamon rolls, listening to yet another rendition of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”.

I’ve never been a mall lover, always held them responsible for the death of downtowns, but yesterday’s trip made me feel sorry for them — and for us.

Farewell, Leftovers

Farewell, Leftovers

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For some, today might be TGIF. For others, only 22 more shopping days till Christmas. For me, it’s the last day to eat Thanksgiving leftovers. Yesterday I eked one final turkey sandwich out of the bird, the day before that I ate the last cup of stuffing and final piece of pumpkin pie. 

Today it’s down to the molded cranberry salad, which has been whittled from a large serving bowl to one a fraction of its size.

Before I’m drummed out of town on reckless eating charges, let me say that I’ve written a few food safety articles and know the drill. I keep hot foods hot and cold foods cold. I avoid cross-contamination at all costs, treating raw chicken prep areas as if they were hazmat zones. 

But I also like to get as much mileage as I can from any big meal I cook — and last Thursday’s was a doozy.  

(Apparently, I don’t take many food pictures, either.)

Empty Corner

Empty Corner

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The living room is larger today. Wing chairs are back in their usual places, flanking the grandfather clock. It’s easier to reach books on the far shelves, and plants can stretch and breathe. 

What’s missing is the Christmas tree, fragrant and bedazzled. The tree that blocked the bookshelves and required major furniture rearranging. The tree that bore the weight of glass globes, tin stars and ceramic angels with grace and dignity. 

This morning I moved toward the far corner of the living room to turn on the tree lights, as I have been every day for more than three weeks. I was ready once again to be bathed only in its reds, greens and blues. 

Then I remembered, the corner is empty, the tree is gone. This morning, I sit in its shadow.

Here’s to the 2s

Here’s to the 2s

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We are launched now into a universe of 2s. The year 2022. Grandchildren who will be turning two this year. And something else that will, I’m sure, soon come to mind. 

Time to ponder the beauty of the number, its rounded hump, the way the zero looks tucked between the 2s. There is an elegance there, a hopefulness, too. 

Long ago there was an advertisement for a car rental company, Avis, I believe, which said, in effect, “We’re number two. We try harder.”

Let’s hope this year’s 2s try harder, too. 

(Photo: Creative Commons)

Gliding Smoothly

Gliding Smoothly

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What is this urge to declutter, to glide simply and smoothly into the new year? Last evening I felt a sudden need to tidy up my desktop. Into the trash went receipts for orders already delivered, backup copies of documents already submitted.

This morning I’m checking streaming entertainment accounts, wondering if I can shed any of them. Perhaps the doubling-down of a pandemic is not the time to have fewer entertainment options, though, so I’ve left them temporarily in place. 

Of course, the tidying that really needs to happen isn’t virtual; it’s the all-too-real piles of papers and files, the boxes of old clothes and bins of toys that I can no longer say I’m “holding for the grandchildren.” The grandchildren are here and they won’t be needing any armless Barbies, thank you very much.

Getting rid of all that stuff, I’m afraid, will have to wait till 2022. 

(These mallards will have no trouble gliding smoothly into the new year.)