After Christmas

Whew, made it through Christmas! I wish it didn't seem so difficult, but each year we do get through it. I think it always surprises me, as we approach the 24th and 25th, to remember that I am responsible for the celebration -- I do almost all the shopping and cooking and planning and organizing -- and so I cannot sit back and enjoy it. I have to stay busy making it all happen. You'd think I'd remember that, after 13 years! Because it's really only since we had kids that it's been like that. When it was just Rocket Boy and me, we did it together and we just had to make ourselves happy. Most years we went to California to be with my mother, and even though I helped her with dinner preparations and all that, she was still the point person, the responsible one. I truly did not understand how much responsibility falls on the mom until I became the mom.

If you do not like to be the responsible one, you should probably not have kids. But those of us who didn't realize what was involved manage to do the work anyway, more or less. 

It's getting easier, though. Although the twins did not help much, they complained less -- which is a big help. And Rocket Boy helped. I wanted him to fix our poor falling-apart tree with its five missing branches, but he said he couldn't really do it without taking the whole thing apart, so we agreed to have a rather sad tree this year. No straw stars -- the cats love to rip those apart, and since they were destroying so many ornaments already, it seemed better to skip the stars this year. They (I say "they" but I think it was mostly Merlin) destroyed two of my teasel ornaments -- ripped the teasel heads off the cloth bodies and tore them apart. I keep finding little teasel fragments. Bad cats.

Because we didn't fix the tree, the extra Christmas boxes stayed in the living room for people to trip over. Not that that makes any sense. As I type this, I'm thinking -- why don't I just put them on the patio? Maybe I will tomorrow. Right now we're so sick that we're just not coping very well.

Oh yes, illness! Nothing says Christmas like a bad cold, which may of course be Covid, omicron variety, since apparently it cares little for vaccines, even boosters. Teen A got it first, and I thought I was going to resist getting it, but a couple days after Rocket Boy arrived, he came down with it, and so did I. I have a much milder case than he does -- just a little congestion, tiredness, a bit of a headache, a very slightly scratchy throat, some dizziness, all these weird tiny symptoms. But Rocket Boy is truly sick and has been for the last three or four days. He woke up sicker today than he has been any of the other days, so since the Covid testing station at Stazio was open, we drove over there to get our nasal passages swabbed. And got into a terrible long line that we spent two hours in! I've never never never seen it like that. I've never had to wait more than about 30 seconds. Just drive up, they swab you, and you drive off again. This time the line started right after we turned off Valmont onto Butte Mill Road. I googled it, and we were in line for just over one mile, in a circle. A very slow line. Two hours to drive one mile. I was glad we had enough gas (and I had used the restroom right before we left).

Of course, on Christmas Eve I put together two plates of cookies and Rocket Boy delivered them to our next-door neighbors -- and hugged the one to the east who hasn't been vaccinated. She is convinced that she is immune because she thinks she had covid back in January 2020, even though there was no testing available back then and later she tested negative for antibodies, and anyway, having covid once doesn't prevent you from getting it again. Well, we'll see. She had a rather lonely Christmas because most of her relatives refused to visit her on account of her anti-vax attitude. And maybe now she'll get sick! But we probably don't have covid, so she probably will be fine. Her mother lived to be 103 and I think she has the same good genes. We love her even though she has these impossible political beliefs.

Last year we didn't have a main dish for Christmas dinner, so we remedied that this year. We had swordfish for Christmas Eve and a honeybaked ham for Christmas dinner. Despite feeling a little sick, Rocket Boy procured all that on Christmas Eve day (plus a coffee cake, plus rolls), which I appreciated enormously.

I looked back at last year's post-Christmas blog and there was a lot of stuff in it about being a little cross with my family for not getting me anything. I noted that I hoped they would do better this year. Well, they didn't. In addition to all the presents for the twins, I had several presents for Rocket Boy to open: two nice shirts from Lands End, a book called Haunted Warren Air Force Base, a package of lifesavers candy, and a package of wintergreen candy canes. He had nothing for me except two cards, signed by him and the boys, with nothing in them. He had also brought a couple of boxes of candy for everyone to share, which we put under the tree. 

The twins, at the last minute, decided to give some joke presents. They asked me for some boxes -- I came up with a couple of shoeboxes -- and proceeded to wrap up some things they found around the house. For instance, I received a package of toilet paper that I had bought at King Soopers the week before. 

This all sounds kind of bad when I write it down, but it was actually fine -- and funny (the toilet paper). I had ordered myself a couple of things (a Hermione doll and an extra outfit for her) off eBay right before Christmas, and I put both boxes under the tree and opened them when it was my turn to open a gift. The Hermione doll was originally sold as "Wizard Sweets Hermione" back in 2001. I had found "Wizard Sweets Harry Potter" at a Twins Club rummage sale several years ago. I didn't know he was Harry Potter (he was missing his glasses) until I found a picture online. I use him as a little brother to my Barbie dolls. He's smaller than a Stacie but bigger than a Chelsea. Anyway, when I was Christmas shopping at Grandrabbits toystore this year, I noticed that they carried a type of doll called Lottie, and clothes for her. I studied the clothes and decided that they might fit my Harry Potter. So I bought a set of pajamas, and sure enough -- they're slightly small, but they fit pretty well (he's wearing them in the photo, along with his pirate hat from Halloween; it's still Halloween in my Barbie world, for complicated reasons). My brain went click click click and I thought: if I found a cheap Hermione, maybe I could get her some Lottie clothes! And there on eBay was a cheap Hermione (cheap because she's used, no box and her stockings are a little dirty) and I also found a cheap Lottie outfit, a spring dress and sweater (next to her in the photo).

A happy Christmas to me -- and no one but me could have found those things, or known that I wanted them, or anything like that. So I was fine with doing my own shopping!

Now the living room is a dreadful mess. It seems much worse than usual. This is probably mostly because we've been sick, although the tree boxes that should have been put on the patio and the cat tunnel under the coffee table aren't helping either. I haven't had the energy to go around collecting the gift bags and folding up the tissue paper for re-use. Rocket Boy and Teen B just finished the puzzle that you can see on the card table that's sitting on top of the coffee table, but they're missing two pieces which obviously have fallen off into the mess. We're going to look for them later, very very carefully.

I think I had other things to talk about in the blog (such as Kwanzaa, which we haven't started celebrating yet, maybe tomorrow), but it's getting late and Rocket Boy wants me to come watch the rest of a movie we started last night -- On Her Majesty's Secret Service, not exactly a Christmas movie, but it's OK. We have the rest of the week together -- he's scheduled to fly back to St. Louis on New Year's Day -- and I'd like to enjoy all of it together.

The week before Christmas

We've reached the last week! I feel as though it got here awfully quickly, but then it always does. And now it's the time when I really want to sit back and savor the season -- but that's impossible, because there's still so much to be done. It's always like this. Why is it always like this? Because at Christmas you have to do all your regular stuff PLUS all the Christmas stuff, and there just isn't time. Nor do I have the energy.

It's 2:10 pm as I am starting this post, and I was planning to make another batch of cookies today. I've only made three so far (see photo), and my gut tells me I need to have six for it to really be Christmas. I should make a batch today, one on Monday, and one on Tuesday. Then we can make fudge on Wednesday or Thursday, and Christmas will be complete.

I know that's kind of nonsense -- but it's also kind of not. Christmas is all about ritual, and for me making cookies is a crucial part of that ritual. So I must continue on. I just cleaned the kitchen and started the dishwasher, so everything's ready for me to make batch #4.

I decided that the twins were going to help with the cookies this year, and so far they kind of have. I made the M&M/sprinkles cookies by myself when they were in school on Friday, and I made the panocha squares yesterday afternoon after they'd gotten tired of helping. But they were actively involved in making the candy cane cookies, and they keep asking me when I'm going to make today's batch.

When we started making the candy cane cookies yesterday, Teen B asked me what we do first, and I said, well, read the recipe to me. So he read, carefully, "Sift 2-1/2 cups sifted flour and 1 tsp salt. Mix together. Divide dough into 2 parts."

I said, "No, you skipped the beginning. Read the whole recipe."

He said, "That's where it starts."

I came over and looked at the recipe. Sure enough, my mother's recipe for candy cane cookies gives no information on how to incorporate the "shortening," powdered sugar, egg, extracts, and vanilla. "Well," I explained, "when you've made enough cookies in your life, you'll know how almost all of them start. You cream butter and sugar, add the egg and flavoring, and then mix in the dry ingredients."

"Sure," said Teen B, rolling his eyes. "I believe you."

I was quite amazed by that recipe, which I've been making for 40 years. It has a lot of additions in my handwriting, but I never bothered to add anything like "cream butter and sugar," because I didn't need to. When you compare this recipe to the kind of thing you find on the internet these days, with agonizingly detailed instructions on how to perform every step (because, presumably, people don't know how to cook anymore), well, hmm. What can I say?

***

I'm back. I took a break and made the dough for the next variety (eggnog cookies) and now I'm baking the first batch in the oven. They bake for 12 minutes, so I will go back and forth. This will probably lead to a jumbled blog post, but I'm sure it's fine.

This past week I had planned to finish my Christmas shopping, and I think I mostly did. On Friday I still had this angsty feeling that I needed to go out and spend more money, more more more, but I carefully stayed home instead. I usually pay bills on Friday and after looking at the current state of my credit card I decided that I could be done with shopping, for now. It isn't really the shopping that's caused the financial distress -- Rocket Boy's plane ticket to come home (Tuesday night!) was $643 and I spent $567 repairing my car (it was due for its 150,000 mile checkup) and I donated $255 on Colorado Gives Day and then there was our post-Thanksgiving trip to Cheyenne, plus we've been eating out too much. Compared to all that, the shopping was nothing. But I still have to pay off all of it, so I can't keep shopping!

***

OK, batch #2 just went in the oven. Batch #1 looks pretty good, cooling on wire racks.

We had a "high wind event" on Wednesday, that I found rather terrifying. I suppose it was the scenes of devastation from the tornadoes in Kentucky (and quite near Rocket Boy, in Missouri and Illinois!). Also, I remembered the high wind event in Utah -- was it this summer? last summer? -- when all those big trees were uprooted. Anyway, I was worried, more than I usually am. We have such big trees, and the Siberian Elm in particular likes to drop its branches. 

It was a scary day (see photo of the wind speeds up at NCAR, which is just above us on the hill), but we never lost power (though many of our neighbors did) and we didn't have any damage. There are some branches down in the backyard that I should take a look at (or leave for Rocket Boy to take a look at), but I don't think anything happened to the roof. I sound so sure of myself. Maybe I should go outside and look at the roof. It's only been four days since the wind event.

OK, I looked. The roof is fine. There's a large branch down in the yard, maybe 8-10 feet long, but it didn't fall anywhere near the roof. It's almost like the tree dropped it there on purpose, knowing that we would be sad if it destroyed our roof.

There is damage in the neighborhood. One house that I walk past almost every day on my walks lost its fence -- just fell over into the yard. And I heard about another neighbor who had a tree fall on their house. I'm sure it didn't mean to. 91-mph gusts of wind are hard on trees.

***

OK, third and last batch is in the oven. The recipe doesn't make a lot -- I ended up with 43 cookies total -- but they still have to be frosted, so they're complicated. Complicated recipes shouldn't make too many cookies, otherwise it would be too exhausting.

Tomorrow the kids and I will do sugar cookies. That's exhausting.

Something occurred to me last night: it's a week until Christmas and I have yet to read a Christmas book! The only exception is the kids' bedtime book: we're reading something we found in a Little Free Library called The Dog Who Thought He Was Santa. It's OK, better than I thought it was going to be, even though every other chapter is narrated by the dog. We'll try to finish it up in a few days and then read Christmas picture books like we did last year.

But for my own reading, not a Christmas book in sight. My last eight books have been as follows: the book group book, a biography of Rutherford B. Hayes, my last Classics Challenge book, and five serious non-fiction books. I don't know why I am so focused on non-fiction right now. Normally I don't enjoy it very much, but this year I've just kept reading it. Depending on what you count as non-fiction, I finished my 37th (or 38th, or 36th) nonfiction book this afternoon. For me, that's a lot. It was my 127th book of the year, so OK, that's a lot of fiction too (90 books, hmm). But when you figure a lot of the fiction was books I read to the kids and books for the book group and books for the Classics Challenge -- out of the other books I read, I really did choose to read a lot of non-fiction. For me.

The book I finished this afternoon I didn't love. It was called The Sweet Spot: The Pleasures of Suffering and the Search for Meaning by Paul Bloom. It's popular at our library right now -- I had to put a hold on it and wait for it. What I can't remember is WHY I did that. Where did I hear about this book and why did I think I wanted to read it? I feel as though it has something to do with another book I read recently, The Second Mountain: The Quest for a Moral Life by David Brooks. Which I did not like, but I think it might have led me to this book, which I also did not like. I mean, it was OK. Just didn't really blow me away.

So here's the thing. Both books were OK, not terrible, though I didn't feel particularly enlightened by either one. But both of them were written by men around my age (Brooks is 60, Bloom is 57) who have recently divorced their first wives (around their age) and the mothers of their children, and are now with much younger women, who they claim, in their Acknowledgements sections, have made their lives fabulous. Brooks' new wife is 37 (today, oddly), Bloom's new "partner's" age is unknown, but she's an assistant professor and as recently as four years ago was a grad student (his grad student), so I'm guessing early to mid 30s?

It's hard for me to pay a lot of attention to the blatherings of men my age who have just had midlife crises and come out on the other end with hot new women. I just don't trust their insights, somehow. I'd rather hear from their ex-wives.

***

I got the kids to take a walk to the park/school with me, so we've had a little exercise today (not a lot, but it's OK). It wasn't too cold today (better than yesterday, which was frigid). There was almost no one out walking, though, which seemed strange. I guess people are either busy with Christmas prep or they're out of town. The students are gone -- off to their hometowns to catch or spread Covid. 

I should make some plans for the week ahead. Two more batches of cookies. Rocket Boy arrives very late Tuesday night (I think his plane gets in around 11 pm, so I'll pick him up at the airport). We could go to a movie one of the days, but I don't know if we will. I need to do a lot more cleaning and Christmas prep. I still haven't repaired the tree, so I haven't finished decorating it either. And there are boxes in the living room that shouldn't be there. Also, I should clean the bathroom. Sigh. That might not happen.

Oh, I know one other thing I was going to mention! I had a little bit of Christmas magic today. I've been feeling for the last few days as though there is a presence in the house -- OK, I know this is nonsense, but food items keep jumping off shelves, things like that. A few times I've said, out loud, "Stop that," though I don't know who or what I'm speaking to. Anyway, today I was doing the kids' laundry and I dropped a shirt on the floor, on its way into the washing machine. I bent down to pick it up and underneath it was this pink sock.

And the thing is, I know the pink sock was not on the floor before I dropped the shirt. I lost this pink sock (it's mine, did you guess?) while doing my laundry about 10 days ago and I made a thorough search of the floor of the laundry room/garage then. I did the kids' laundry last weekend and there was no pink sock on the floor. I am quite sure that the little elves who steal socks decided today that they were done with this one, so they returned it by sneaking it under the shirt that dropped.

I know what you're thinking -- you're thinking I'm nuts. Obviously the sock was under something else and my movements knocked it into the open. And of course you can believe that all you want. But I know the sock was gone and then it was returned. Christmas magic. I believe.

Reading post: Classics Challenge wrap-up

I've finished all 12 of my chosen books for the 2021 Back to the Classics Challenge! And thus I'm supposed to write one more post explaining what I read and giving links to all the relevant review posts. Although I read them in almost chronological order, I'm listing them here in the original order of the categories, to make things easier for the person who runs the challenge.

My theme this year was Native Americans, fiction by or about, but mostly by AND about. I had some trouble putting together the list, and I changed it a bit as I went along, but what I ended up with was amazing. Some of these books are great -- some are pretty awful -- but they all worked together to give me a new understanding of the Indian experience of the past, as well as the present. Just today, ironically, I heard about a book that might have helped me plan my list: The Cambridge History of Native American Literature, published just last year. But since our library doesn't own it and it is enormous and expensive... well, I think I did pretty well on my own.

Of the books on this list, my favorite was Waterlily by Ella Cara Deloria. But I also read some other books not on the list, to accompany these books, and my favorite of all the Native American books I read this year was actually Sundown by John Joseph Mathews, published in 1934, which I read to accompany Brothers Three by John Milton Oskison (which I didn't like).

Here are the books I read, in the official category order.

1. A 19th century classic. Queen of the Woods by Simon Pokagon, 1899.

2. A 20th century classic. Waterlily by Ella Cara Deloria, written in the 1940s but published posthumously in 1988.

3. A classic by a woman author. Cogewea, the Half-blood by Mourning Dove, 1927.

4. A classic in translation. Winnetou: The Treasure of Nugget Mountain by Karl May, 1878.

5. A classic by a BIPOC author. House Made of Dawn by N. Scott Momaday, 1968. 

6. A classic by a new-to-you author. Brothers Three by John Milton Oskison, 1935.

7. A new-to-you classic by a favorite author. The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper, 1826.

8. A classic about an animal or with an animal in the title. The Man Who Killed the Deer by Frank Waters, 1942.

9. A children's classic. Indian Captive by Lois Lenski, 1941.

10. A humorous or satirical classic. The Illiterate Digest by Will Rogers, 1924.

11. A travel or adventure classic. The Life and Adventures of Joaquin Murieta, the Celebrated California Bandit by John Rollin Ridge, 1854.

12. A classic play. The Cherokee Night by Lynn Riggs, 1932. 

A few more thoughts on what I read: I think my greatest "discovery" this year was Will Rogers. I knew the name but I didn't know why I knew it. Now, having read his biography as well as a collection of his humorous writings, I'm a huge fan! I just wish my mother were still alive, because I could have talked to her about him. She was 13 when he died -- I'm sure she knew about him.

Another thing I got out of reading these books was a much greater sense of the different types of Indian nations and where they are and were. Even though I knew the names of many tribes before I did this project, I didn't have a good geographical sense of them. Now the country, for me, has been redrawn. I have a much clearer sense of which parts of the land belong to which people. When I pick up a new book, I read the name of the tribe and the book's setting and I think, oh yes, that's also where this other book took place, or that's someone from this group that I read about earlier. It's a very interesting effect.

Finally, I want to mention some doubts I had before starting this project. Last year I read Black authors and learned so much about the historical Black experience in America. It was really life-changing. So this year I wanted to do the same thing with Indigenous people. But I felt a little funny about it too. Wasn't I being kind of racist even to think this way? Why don't I do a project where I read only works by German-Americans, for instance? And of course I could do that -- maybe I even will, one of these years. It would be interesting to read about how German immigrants gradually became simply "Americans." But it's also really interesting to read the writing of people who for whatever reason haven't been permitted to enter the mainstream, who are still considered "other" despite their people having been here for hundreds or thousands of years. It's not racist to recognize that something exists, that something has happened. So, I don't know what my next reading project will be, but this year's and last year's have been fascinating.

Reading post: House Made of Dawn

I have finished my 12th and last book for the Classics Challenge: House Made of Dawn by N. Scott Momaday (Kiowa), which was published in 1968, just 53 years ago. I chose it to fulfill category #5, "A classic by a BIPOC author," where BIPOC stands for Black, Indigenous, People of Color. Nine of my 12 authors would fit into this category, so it was just a matter of choosing which book to put here. House Made of Dawn won the Pulitzer Prize in 1969 and is considered to have kicked off the Native American Renaissance in literature.

Momaday (who is still alive, born in 1934) is Kiowa on his father's side, but his mother was part Cherokee and part white. Momaday was born in Oklahoma and lived for a while on the Kiowa reservation there, but when he was young his parents moved to the Southwest to teach at the Navajo, Pueblo, and Apache reservations, and that's where he grew up. Momaday says that his main character Abel's home village in House Made of Dawn is based on Jemez Pueblo in New Mexico -- which reminds me of Frank Waters' book, The Man Who Killed the Deer, which was set at Taos Pueblo in New Mexico. I haven't yet found anything written about the connection between the two novels, but it seems like there might be something -- probably behind an academic journal paywall. Both were based on true stories and describe the spiritual journey of an Indian man whose soul has been disturbed by white culture -- but of course that is the central theme of most Native American literature that I've read. Waters' book is more hopeful, while Momaday's is more realistic.

I was surprised, when I started reading House Made of Dawn, that it is set in the past, i.e., several years prior to 1968, when it was published. The first chapter takes place in 1945, and the rest of the book in 1952. I don't know why Momaday chose to do this, but his character Abel is just back from service in World War II at the start of the book, so that's important. The saddest scene in the book is near the beginning, when Abel's grandfather -- the only member of his family still alive -- drives his old wagon to meet his grandson's bus. Abel is returning from military service and this should be a happy reunion. But Abel is dead drunk and does not even recognize his grandfather. It's symbolic of what's happened to Abel, what a mess he is after his interaction with white society.

The book is beautifully written, but it isn't easy to read. I got lost in the language many times and had very little idea what was happening. Wikipedia told me that the book was originally supposed to be a series of poems, then a collection of stories, and finally became a novel. And that makes a lot of sense. The various sections don't hang together well. When Abel becomes involved with the white woman, Angela, I thought that would lead to something bad, but I don't think it does (see, I'm not even sure). It doesn't really lead anywhere, although she shows up again near the end of the book. There's an albino Indian, and Abel kills him because he thinks he's a snake or a witch (I don't think that had anything to do with Angela, but maybe it did), and then he goes to jail, and after he's released he goes to Los Angeles, where the rest of the book takes place until Abel goes home again. 

This is a little weird to say, but after reading the book I felt sorry for Scott Momaday. The novel is beautiful and shows a lot of promise, but I'm not sure it deserved the Pulitzer Prize (though, looking at a list of books published in 1968, maybe it was the best choice). This is a case where early success probably stifled someone who could have become a great writer, who had the ability. He published only a few things after House Made of Dawn, bits and pieces, poetry and stories and essays and just one other novel. You get the feeling he might have been afraid to publish something that wouldn't live up to his first book. Of course, he was also busy being an English professor and a sort of ambassador for Indigenous writers and writing.

The main achievement of House Made of Dawn, in my opinion, was how it inspired and opened doors for other Native American writers. Without Momaday's work there might have been no Louise Erdrich, who I consider a national treasure, someone who was not stifled by early success and has gone on to write amazing novels. I gather that Momaday has accepted his fate and his role. I might read more by him -- people seem to like his second book, The Way to Rainy Mountain, which "blends folklore with memoir." All in all, this was an interesting way to end the Challenge -- not with a bang, but with a thoughtful, imperfect, but valuable read.

A slight pause

I thought today's post would be about all the things I got done this week and how very efficient I've been and how everything's just swimming along perfectly.

I didn't really think that -- something always goes wrong at Christmas.

Anyway, nothing's actually gone wrong -- I got 3/4 of the cards done and we had our first measurable snowfall -- but I have needed to take a slight pause in Christmas preparations because of a strong reaction to my third Covid shot! I didn't have much of a reaction to the first two, just some tiredness, but this booster has really done me in. It is quite possibly because I decided to "mix & match," have a Moderna booster when my first two shots were Pfizer. The injector person warned me that this might happen.

I got the shot Friday afternoon and felt mostly OK the rest of the day, maybe just a little out of it, though I did have some gastrointestinal trouble when Teen B and I went to Target that night. Saturday we were scheduled to take a tour of Boulder High School at 9 am, so I gallantly got myself up by 7:30 and all of us out the door by 8:35. The tour lasted about two hours -- first we parents sat in the auditorium and listened to a presentation while the kids took a tour, and then the parents took a tour while the kids listened to a presentation (not the same presentation, from what I could gather from the twins). The tour involved a lot of walking, very fast, and a certain amount of stair-climbing too, because the high school is three stories tall, but I survived it. I only started to feel bad at the very end, waiting for the final Q&A to end. Then we went to Starbucks and then home, and that's when the symptoms really kicked in -- headache, nausea, and fever. I messed around on the computer for a few hours, too out of it to do anything else, finally decided to lie down around 4 or so, and then couldn't really get up again. We were going to eat out, but I couldn't go anywhere or do anything. The kids put themselves to bed, sort of (they lay in bed fighting about who was going to get up and turn out the light), but they didn't feed the cats, so I had to get up and do that (and turn off their stupid light). I managed to load the dishwasher and run it, and then I went back to bed. 

This morning I woke up around 6:30 am, got myself a 7-Up (from the "illness" stash), and went back to bed until around 10:30, when the cats got me up, starving. I've now got two loads of laundry going and I've been wasting time on the computer all afternoon. No energy to do anything more. All my plans for what I was going to accomplish this weekend -- finish the cards, repair the tree, finish decorating the tree, clean the living room, set up some other decorations, etc. -- are postponed. It's OK. Christmas is always such a huge undertaking, a huge rush -- but nobody really cares whether you get it all done. I mean, it's OK to cut corners here, do things at the last minute, etc. Whatever you get done is great, whatever you don't get done is whatever.

I did spend a little time thinking about how unhelpful the twins have been through this. They are so addicted to their devices and games that they spend all their time doing that and never give a thought to anything else. They could have worked on the tree for me. Well, maybe not. They don't know how to repair it using hose clamps (of which I bought 10 more at McGuckin's this week). I should show them, assuming I remember how. The cats have already knocked down four ornament-covered branches -- I'm sure there will be more. They could have fed the gosh-darn cats, that's what they could have done. And turned off their own stupid light, instead of lying in their beds arguing about it so loudly that their voices came through the wall and woke me up.

OK, enough grousing. I keep thinking: what if I really got sick? What if I didn't have the vaccine and instead got Covid? If this is a taste of what the real disease is like, I sure don't want to get it!

It's about 4:45 pm. We're going to Chili's for dinner (I should be able to drive now, my fever's almost gone). Before that, I should put away the first load of laundry and stick the second load in the dryer. And... maybe that's enough. We'll eat, I'll put the rest of the laundry away when we get home, we'll burn three Advent candles for a while, and then I'll go to bed again.

Christmas will be waiting for me tomorrow or the next day, when I feel up to it again.

December doings

As I write this, Rocket Boy is still in Boulder, even though the plan was for him to leave today. It occurred to him last night that he still had a lot of things that he wanted to get done, so he stayed an extra day. He'll get on the road tomorrow morning after the kids go to school. Today he has...

• finished assembling our old tree, 
• removed the lowest level of branches after it became clear that Baby Kitty was going to remove them for us if we didn't do it first, 
• put the lights on the tree, 
• and put lights on the outside of our house. 
• He also signed all the Christmas cards, which I bought at McGuckin's on Friday (RB was supposed to go with me to pick them out, but he needed to take Teen A to the swim store across the parking lot to get new trunks, so he said whatever I picked out was fine). I also finalized our xmas letter, after weeks of agonizing over it, and he approved it. (I might still tinker with it, but it's basically done.) Tomorrow I can make the copies and start mailing out cards. 

Unless I'm busy being depressed because he's gone back to St. Louis. I always seem to need to do that for a while after he goes. I was feeling like that last night, but then we got an extra day with him, so I'm more chipper tonight.

I feel as though this week went really fast and we didn't get enough done. Rocket Boy worked a lot -- something I absolutely cannot complain about, since that's what's keeping us going -- and I did this and that, laundry and dishes and grocery shopping and helping the kids with their homework. I also read a lot, since I couldn't spend much time on the computer. It makes Rocket Boy antsy if I'm in the desk room when he's working, doing stuff on my computer -- especially if I'm playing computer solitaire, but also if I'm writing emails or even reading The New York Times online. He's gotten used to having his quiet apartment to work in. So I spent a lot of time lying on our bed and reading. It's a hard life, I know.

Yesterday (Saturday, that is), we went to the Boulder Parade of Lights. We always go, if they have one (last year they didn't, of course), but this year was special because Teen B was playing his clarinet in his middle school band. We had to get there early to drop him and Rocket Boy off at 15th & Pearl, and then I had to find a place to park, ending up on the other side of downtown, at 10th & Walnut, because so many streets were blocked off. Teen A and I walked back to 15th & Pearl, then he and RB and I went to Broadway & Pearl to watch the parade, then back to 15th & Pearl to pick up Teen B, then back to 10th & Walnut to get the car. I figure I walked about 20 blocks, total. We were all dreadfully tired when it was over. But such a thrill to watch Teen B marching by.

Of course, I kept wondering whether we should even have gone. There were a LOT of people there, and very few of them were wearing masks. Rocket Boy wore his while we stood and watched the parade, because we were up close and personal with a lot of other people for 40 minutes or so. I kept putting mine on and then pulling it down to expose my nose and mouth. Finally it occurred to me that I should stop worrying and enjoy myself because the omicron variant may chase us all away from gatherings soon enough. Boulder County has had its first case, but I don't think it's widespread yet. A week, two weeks from now, maybe we won't be going anywhere.

Tonight was the last night of Hanukkah and the second Sunday in Advent, so we lighted all our candles. Most years, I stress about whether it's appropriate to light Hanukkah candles when we're not Jewish. This year, for whatever reason, it didn't bother me. As I always say, it's not as though we're trying to approximate Yom Kippur. We're celebrating Judaism. And the kids are so used to observing it now that I can't just stop. They fight over who gets to light the candles, they nag me each night if I forget.

It's odd how early Hanukkah is this year. Next year it's going to be all mixed up with Christmas, but this year there's a wide separation. It feels strange to have it over already. But there are two more Sundays of Advent, and almost three weeks until Christmas. Lots of time left -- or is there?

This coming week I've got to get serious about Christmas. I'll try to get the cards sent out this week, decorate the tree, and do any online shopping I want to do, since otherwise it won't have a chance of arriving in time. Then next week I can do in-person shopping and start baking. What am I forgetting? I'll look over old blog posts to figure out what I do at this time of year.

1. Cards. In good shape there. Need to get the letter photocopied tomorrow and then start addressing envelopes and writing notes on the cards. I'm a little short on stamps, could drop by the post office and get some. I'll try to do 10 cards a day and they'll go quickly and pleasantly.

2. Cookies. I'm going to hold off on these. I'll probably start baking around December 15th or so, maybe later. Plenty of time. I'm gradually collecting ingredients; should make a list of what I'm going to bake.

3. Other Food. At some point I'll need to plan Christmas Eve and Christmas Day dinner. But that's a long way off. The most important thing right now is to serve lots of vegetables for dinner over the next few weeks, to balance out all the holiday treats that have already started sneaking in. No more than one Starbucks visit per week, despite how few chances remain to order a caramel brulee latte.

4. Decorating and cleaning. I'm thrilled that the tree is up and we have lights on the house, but there are several more things to do. I have to put the ornaments on the tree -- this week -- and I also need to tidy the living room, move a lot of junk somewhere else. Teen B has agreed to pack up his Legos that have been on top of a cabinet in the living room for several years now. We'll work on all that this week.

5. Gifts. Even though I'm not planning to spend a lot of money, it's nice to have things to unwrap. I thought I should do some serious thinking about what we actually need. I could buy, I don't know, a sack of rice and put it in a gift bag. Or maybe that's too silly. Anyway, I need to start shopping. This week and next and then I should be all done, because the kids will be out of school.

6. Gifts to the Community. Colorado Gives Day is this Tuesday, so I have to decide who I'm giving money to and set up those donations. Usually we give to the Boulder and Longmont Humane Societies and Teen A's old private school. Last year I also gave to the Park County Humane Society (where our cabin is) and I'll probably do that again. And what else? I think I could choose at least one more charity. Must think. I'm also going to donate during Kwanzaa like I did last year, but I can figure that out later.

7. Music & Events. Ah. Normally I go to every free or low-cost concert I can find. But maybe not this year, even if there are some. Until we know more about what omicron's going to do, I'd like to be cautious. So sad. Update: I just checked and the library isn't even having any concerts, just like last year. So another year with no harp concert. I hate this virus. However, there is a play at the kids' school and we'll go to that. I need to sign up for it on HelpatSchool.

8. Travel. Well, we need to figure out when Rocket Boy is coming back and make him a reservation. I think he's going to fly, not drive, since he drove out for Thanksgiving. (Or he could take the train.) Then we need to figure out whether we're doing any traveling after Christmas. We were going to go to Tucson for a few days, but that isn't looking so likely now. I tried to find flights and there was just nothing. So unless a lot of people decide to cancel due to omicron -- and if people are doing that, would we really want to travel? -- we probably aren't going to Tucson. 

9. Staying Healthy. Always important, but especially so during the pandemic. I need to resume my daily walks, which have gotten all mixed up while Rocket Boy's been here. I need to go to bed early and get plenty of rest. I'm getting my booster shot on Friday, but I still haven't gotten a flu shot -- really should figure out how to do that. 

10. Reading. I need to read my last book for the Classics Challenge this week. Then I can read whatever I want to finish out the year. The book group isn't meeting until January, but I should buy the book (The Soul of an Octopus by Sy Montgomery).

It all sounds totally do-able. A week from now, or especially two weeks from now, I may be more stressed. But right now it all sounds fun.

I just wish Rocket Boy didn't have to go back to St. Louis and could stay here until January.