Ok, don't ruin my moment- but I, yes me, the incompetent one, actually fixed my own computer program! I don't suppose wars will end, or that world peace is imminent, but isn't it really about the little miracles. Speaking of miracles, (or not) the wise man was grazing in Baby Jesus' manger this morning, apparently in addition to a census, there was quite a famine in the town of Bethlehem, that or Balthasar had nipped a few too many times at the camel's milk, only to fall asleep while falling prostrate. If you grew up catholic, you've witnessed all too many accounts of uncle Balthasar during mass, so it's all the same to you. It's not all the same to me, and I will be picking up the CSI toy crime detection lab to dust for fingerprints and determine which of the Tribe has been violating the "Don't touch my nativity scene" edict. One of many presents Tac and I will test drive before wrapping. Two Christmases ago, Tac had racked up 1.2 million SSX Tricky points before Christmas Eve. I have three seasonal statue panorama things. You have no idea how difficult it is to depict the somber joy of the holiday when you regularly find the snow man wrapped in swaddling clothes and Baby Jesus making snow angels with the reindeer. I still have the original Nativity scene Tac and I bought for our first Christmas. Ours was a simple household, which might explain the discount bargain bin nativity that consisted of one blonde haired/blue eyed Mary, one 80 year old Joseph and one white as the driven snow baby Jesus. The only thing that keeps me from ditching the aryan nation nativity is that it's our first one, this just might be the year we break out the air brush set from Aunt Edna and set things right or suffer the seasonal enigma of displaying a "major award"
One of my favorite all time iconic christmas memories, (if you don't count Blue Blocker Santa who wears his polyester, white beard like an ascot and generally has the flask at his side as he drives the sleigh at our current Christmas tree cutting venue, and for whom I credit with the very early demise in the Tribe's santa mythology), was the year my Aunt played santa at the annual, family Christmas gathering. Once a year we bundled our way into the KC Hall to eat jello salad and krumkake with the once-a-year aunts and uncles, awaiting anxiously the appearance of Santa Clause and his bag of gifts. Santa reached an entirely new level of mythology with her four inch long acrylic nails and false eyeslashes, cig dangling from her robustly painted, pink lips. The wife of my father's brother, I lived in mortal fear of being an in law from that day forward. In laws routinely drew the short stick in that family.
Christmas officially begins at 12:01 am the Friday after Thanksgiving. Prior to that time, all holiday music is forbidden, but trust me The Tribe has some very creative versions of "Deck the Turkey with lot's of stuffing" just to tweak mom a little. We avoid the holiday displays in Target as if the plaque were stored along those aisles. I'm adamant. I'm a holiday separatist. There, I said it. But who wants to celebrate IndepentHallowGiving. Target does I tell you. It's not unusual for The Tribe to wake me up at 12:01 singing carols with Tac. They love the season, and you know what, so do I.
The tree is up, the fire is warm, the carols are playing 24/7, and the snow is in a constant state of tease. It's the little miracles that really are important, and I have a lot of them in my life.