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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/1022587
Rated: 18+ · Book · Personal · #2017254
My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum.
#1022587 added November 30, 2021 at 7:58pm
Restrictions: None
Christmas
PROMPT November 30th

Wow, it's the end of the month! With Thanksgiving behind us (here in the States), and Christmas on the horizon, what, if any, are your Christmas traditions? If you have no holiday traditions, do you have any plans for this month?

         Ah, yes, Christmas. I have it on good authority that it will be here before we know it. Peering out my window, the scene appears to be one from a typical Christmas movie. The silent street is shrouded by a thickening blanket of snow. No foot prints, or tire tracks are visible. A day of blizzard-like conditions have obliterated them. Flakes swirl faster and faster. Should I break out in a carol, or two?
Snowflakes fall, are you listening? They're very white and they're glistening.
         It's the last day of November, snow's on the ground. People are bundled, muffled and bound. Today it is chilly, tomorrow might rain. Canadian weather is tough to explain.
         So, the appropriate setting is settling and reminding me to prepare. Tomorrow I may well choose to decorate. If my Mom was still alive, she'd have booked my seasonal services for the first. Somebody has to unpack and assemble the fake, no, as she'd insist 'artificial' tree. That same someone would lug several bins into her livingroom, unload the red, green, white, silver and gold contents onto all of the furniture, and re-pack them with the 'everyday' ornamentation. One immense bin sheltered all of the tree ornaments collected and reflective of her life. Then her assistant / chief decor engineer / elf , moi, would stoop, stretch and situate Christmas cheer at her direction. Every surface would be Christmas-ified. Grinning snowmen vied for elbow room with beaming angels, jolly Santas, prancing reindeer and magnificent blushing poinsettias. When satisfied, Mom perched amongst her own version of a Christmas display window.
         Her piece de resistance had to be the silver-filament tinsel she wished to have "artistically draped" everywhere. I disliked it and resorted to flinging handfuls which landed in glittery globs. Mom would sigh, recover those finicky, foil blobs and separate each shiny strand. That bit of Christmas haunted me. It clung to me with all its static might and hid about my jacket.
         So, traditions? As a family we loved creating Christmas crafts for each other. We'd paint discarded light bulbs and transform them into snowmen ornaments for our trees. With bits of coloured felt, ribbon, googly eyes and pipe cleaners we'd bring elves to life. Using our imaginations we'd envision Santas and reindeers rising from spools and corks. No two looked alike and each one gleamed with its own unique personality. One year, we played with clay, baking our decorations. Sometimes, we'd stitch holiday themed gifts such as place mats, towels and such.
         Another absolutely-must-do is baking. It wouldn't be Christmas without our favourites to stuff ourselves with. Almost every delectable treat is composed of chocolate to which we add nuts, cocoanut, caramel, and more. Cookies never go to waste, but meh, they may settle at our waists. Part of the process is the inevitable sampling.
         Over the years, we've assembled and decorated our fair share of gingerbread houses and figures. I suppose some now refer to them as 'gingerbread persons.' One Christmas, my youngest decided to mix up some gingerbread dough with my two eldest grand giggles. The three of them were perplexed by the dark brown, sticky substance that refused to be rolled out and stuck to everything. Flour swirled in the kitchen and dusted every surface as they tried to 'fix' the problem. After surveying their frustration, I troubleshooted. Aha, Danielle had misread the instructions using far too much molasses. The girls delighted in referring to this mess as 'poop.' Their aunt did not mince words. To a couple of gasps she declared the disaster to be 'shit.' Anywho, the poor kitchen table was never the same. It took days of vigorous scrubbing to remove most of the stain.
         So, tomorrow may be a great day to start preparing for Christmas. My apartment is not the most conducive space for a tree. Oh, I've dragged 'real' evergreens up the nineteen steps and squished them into my limited floor area. Each year I am amazed that the quivering tree has not fainted at the sight of my many decorations, or succumbed to fatigue from their amassed weight. A few times, I strung evergreen boughs across the doorways and pretended I had suspended mini trees from which to display my ornaments.
         In the past, I've contended with felines and kids who were fascinated with the Christmas tree. They've climbed the trunk. They've swung from the branches. They've pulled and stripped handfuls of needles. They've chosen ornaments to chew on, throw, dis-assemble, and kick. Ah, good times.
         Yes, tomorrow I may pull out my bins, blow off the dust, and resurrect some Christmas cheer. I'm not in a hurry to begin the baking of cookies though. They tend to tease and tantalize me. They know I cannot resist. I'm certain I will imbibe/ consume my fair share of Christmas calories when the time is right.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/1022587