Back in bed. It’s perfect, warm covers, space heater, I put a blanket on the window so it’s dark like a cave in here. Left the glasses and pants off and went downstairs briefly, Brit had breakfast for me, reheated sweet potatoe hash, with sausage and kraut, a couple soft eggs ontop. She tells me how she slipped outside on the porch, fell on her butt. I told how she should have read my blog last, as I addressed the value of falling on the ice and the fear there in. She laughed said it did wake her up some.
Like Hanukah around here, with several continuous days of celeberation. In my mind I love it, the good memories of yesteryear, the completed, perfected feeling times like this can bring, that things are special. After last night though, I’m a lil hesitant.
My seven year old is trying to play positive attitude enforcer. I appreciate the angle, but ultimately it grinds the nerves, in the typical judging the messenger sort of way. Parenthood tells me he will fail before me, as it should be. I agree though, in principal, reality is something else.
I think my ideal holiday would be on a mountain, snowed in, stocked and prepped, fireplace. Nowhere to go, nothing to do. Under a blanket, reading books. Maybe a late night viewing of Gremlins, hot cocoa. A smoke and a roll by the fireplace after the lil ones are put away for the night.
We drove through our old city last night, hunting Christmas lights. The moon hung there, a glowing, offwhite wedge. I pointed at it to the kids, asked how the heck did they get that big one up there, do they make cranes that big? Maybe there was a man up there, holding it up like that. Who knew? In any case, it was beautiful, we all could agree on that.
Dinner at 5. Until then books, and entertainments. Coffee. Self. Good day. I hope yours is as well. Merry Christmas!I hope you fall on your ass and learn to love the fear of falling.