TRADITIONS (SORT OF)

It’s one more day until Christmas in western Oregon and it’s raining. Anybody around here who wants a white Christmas has to head for Mt. Hood or the high Cascades. And that’s ok by me. It can snow after everybody goes home. So far we’re on track to get the Umatilla branch of the family over here for a day or three. I think the nephews are the ones behind the trip this year. I think both boys (boys, they’re both in college) are just old enough to realize that the clock is running on both grandmothers. No, nothing is going to happen anytime soon, but neither one is going to see seventy five again and if they’re going to make memories, well, daylights burning.

 

It isn’t that sis doesn’t want to come over, but the BIL is having some medical fall out again and they’re both so damn tired when the school breaks come around. Anybody who thinks teachers have an easy time of it never tried to do the job. At least never tried to be a good one.

 

I have a whole week away from the JOB starting yesterday. So, mom and I have been shopping, baking, getting things together. Watching a few movies from the personal collection. The 1980’s A Christmas Carol with George C Scott has been tracked down and watched. So has The Gathering from the seventies. Finally got a copy of White Christmas. It’s just about as good as I remembered it. I think I know where my copy of the Grinch is hiding.

 

I guess outside of trying to get the family together, that’s about as close to traditions as we have right now. Didn’t put up the tree this year. All three cats are a lot more interested in what’s on top of things this year. And we both had visions of intrepid feline explorers trying to find out where the pretty lights were coming from.

 

There’s a dammit for you Russ. Coming in to find the tree on the floor and various furry heads either peeking around the wreckage or looking very innocent. And failing miserably. LOL. “Who us?” “Really I have no idea how I got tangled up in all these cords.” “I know, we’re supposed to stay off the desk, nobody mentioned the tree. And yes, we did have to climb on the desk to reach the tree”  (short tree) Three year olds, you have to love ‘em.

 

Anyway, my snickerdoodles are light, sweet and crispy and look just a little strange. I think it’s the butter I used when the shortning came up, well short. I forgot that butter lets them spread out further. So they’re shall we say, roundness challenged. And you know, I don’t really care.

 

 A few years down the road the kids will remember that the cookies were good, there were smiles all around and that we still all manage to fit around the kitchen table. If we’re short of time, dinner, may just get served buffet style. On paper plates. If the sparkling cider ends up in glasses that don’t exactly match, well duh. I’m after smiles, not matching stem ware. And if I catch a glimmer over in dad’s favorite chair, well, the day will be complete.

 

It’s the season of hope you see. Whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukah, the Solstice or just getting up in the morning, we live in the hope that the dark times will pass and the sun will return. Hope that light will drive out the darkness. Hope that for whatever time we have we can touch each other. Hope that when we reach out our hand there will be another hand reaching out to touch ours