Ole Santa Claus must get very frustrated with me. In August, when some of the big retailers start previewing their Christmas wares, I can't wait to get to Hobby Lobby and check out the ornaments and lawn decor. It's 110 outside, and I'm dreaming of a one-horse open sleigh. But now that Thanksgiving is less than a week away, and the Christmas rush is accelerating, I want to put the brakes on. Why is that? Everything gets so truncated this time of year. I guess I just want time to enjoy everything about the holidays—every
individual thing about the holidays—and not speed through them in a blur of cornbread dressing and one-day sales. I want to spend an afternoon making a pan of that dressing (after I clean my oven). I want to leisurely decorate my house for Christmas, with Bing and Nat and Judy playing on the stereo (but first I need to mop and dust and slay whatever creature now lives in that long-overlooked Rubbermaid container in the the back of the fridge). I want to make a wreath and sip a little wassail by the light of Christmas candles. I want to watch Robert
Mitchum woo Jane Leigh in
A Holiday Affair and sing carols with our choir at church.
Hmmm. Maybe I
am ready for Christmas:)
[That's Princess Teal in the pic, "down at Mama's" last Christmas.]
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