The After-math of Christmas

Yes, that’s  a pun.

I always pun when under stress.

Like Christmas.

Where,

from the top,

I have

redded the house,

traditional word in our family for everyone runs like a chicken

to make the house look presentable,

(I even put a few salt grains in the four corners of the house,

as I was taught as a child)

washed, packed, sung in London-

what a joy that was,

met with old friends,

sung for the church,

then:

bought the third turkey,

the second,

and third,

necessary because guests suddenly arrived,

eight and one hour, respectively, after a phone call saying-

get ready-

“we thought we’d do ourselves something good this year and let someone else cook.”

And bah humbug to you too, people who,

even if we love you,

it is good that you are family, because if you were friends…

So I bought the birds,

two and three,

(you can only get small ones over here-

slightly larger than a large chicken

and usually raised in France-

watch out for the ones stuffed with chestnuts)

because the first bird,

sold by an otherwise reputable store,

had an expiration date of Jan 2014.

Then we decked a tree,

to a LOUD version of the Messiah, while singing along,

picked up pine needles,

and….

after the math of all the “madness? you ain’t seen nothing yet, ” deductions,

Took fabulous walks at night through our subdivision with my husband

to look at the Christmas deco

and across the snow-covered fields,

ploughed and waiting for spring,

sang, together and with others,

Laughed, although this was a year of severe trials,

Watched shows full of meaning and beauty,

(yes, and, I admit if, the Man From Uncle Christmas story

and Margaret Rutherford and Robert Morely in Curtain Up)

at a time when everything is STILL politics,

and fighting

and hideous news programs,

full of violence,

and attacks on holiday markets

and discos,

and we prayed.

For peace, finally,

and the coming together of family members far from us,

and I baked all the old recipes I only bake once per year-

(And made Harald do all the chopping for the many loaves of fruit cake he,

and  unfortunately, his entire family,

love so much)

And we finally had a couple of days for us alone,

even if the house does now look like a tornado went through.

And, finally, one after another, our electronics went out.

My computer was attacked, the technicians were all off on ski holiday,

then my phone went out-

my idiot of a “personal hacker” sent a “personal note” that if I was so smart,

why did I leave my cell phone next to the router.

Nyah nyah nyan.

And do you know what?

It was the best thing that ever happened to us.

No computer,

no telephone,

so we put out candles,

yes, I know-

not totally logical,

but it was right some how,

and wrote up our experiences for the year,

as we drank tea bought in London,

and ate Irish fruit bread from a recipe of my great grandmother,

and made plans for the new year,

and had the gift of time with one another.

Just to talk.

And finally, to pray together and think about the true meaning of Christmas.

Hope your holidays were happy.

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