Christmas is in six days. And, to clarify, for Christmas (some of it at least, because I have to go on Twitter. That's a given) we are expoloring the art of nothing. As in every time my tablet beeps, I click it off and ignore it. And, as much as this has always been my place to "feed the good wolf" and get away, the computer's not the place I want to be right now. There's Candyland and cookie dough and another Lifetime movie about a single mother who falls in love with a smoldering mountain man on Christmas Eve and lives happily ever after.
For the first time ever, we are "just us" on Christmas day. No grandmas or grandpas or other speck of extended gene pool. Just us, and we're rockin' it. (although, for the record Claire, if you happen to walk through our door on Christmas Eve to surprise us, I'd die a million deaths and be forever grateful...just sayin'.)
There's a lot I want to say. There's a whole lot of high-on-Christmas stuff flyin' around my brain these days, and I could gush disgustingly right now on just how much I love these days. But, you get it, right?
I've had this problem my whole life of visualizing what I want Christmas to look like. And it's always picturesque in this storybook kind of way almost to the point of ridiculousness. Like the burly father comes in from blustery winds bearing a heap of firewood, and children dressed in Christmas finest are huddled around a piano singing Silent Night in perfect harmony. Cue Mother busting through the kitchen door with rosy cheeks, a plastered smile and a golden turkey garnished with baked apples. And everyone lives happily ever after.
Okay, maybe we're not living in the late 1800's and maybe Laura Ingalls Wilder doesn't write my visions. But I have learned that real life is different from dream life, and I've managed to merge the two over the last three years. The moral of the story is this...If you want it, work hard to create it, but leave cushion for the unexpected and embrace everything outside of that "perfect" vision as good and meaningful parts of your story you would have never had the opportunity to know had you stuck to the script. Ad lib, go with it, swim with the current. In the end, what you will have created, albeit a Christmas memory or life's final script...it will be good.
We made Christmas cookies last night. Or let me clarify. We set out to make Christmas cookies, but one batch in, we fell victim to the charm of a movie and a fire and, forty minutes and a smoky kitchen later, we canned the cookie thing altogether.
But, you know, whatever.
And not to bring this to a choppy ending or anything, but I'm typing from my tablet and it's extremely annoying to do so. Point being, I'm going to Twitter. But you might want to visit this little space again tomorrow... I have a post lined up. A post that has been in the works for over 4 months. And it's really important to me because it's in the honor and dedication of a person who's really important to me. Guys... tomorrow is Mila's birthday. Enough said.
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