And a Merry, Happy, Joyful, Loving, Sparkling, Healthy, Healing Christmas Eve to YOU!

Snow’s-a-comin’ this way!! Can I get a whoop-whoop? 

The holidays have been difficult for me since moving to Canada (read: stomach-tugging, family-missing-difficult). I’ve never been able to spend it with both my husband and my family. Always, one or the other. Occasionally, we’ve spent it with his family but that’s also usually after the holiday has passed.

The only times we’ve decorated at home were because his family was coming to our house that year. 

Once, very early in our marriage, my friend Cindy sent some lights and decorations and insisted we decorate for ourselves. We did and I admit, it was lovely. But, it couldn’t be sustained through the dark, depressing winters, when the loneliness engulfed us and we were – quite honestly – feeling very sorry for ourselves, indeed. Yep, we spent Christmas alone in our cave with our little family of three or four, cats included.  

In the midst of this, we did make one tradition that has stood the test of time. At 9:30 pm on Christmas Eve, we watch A Christmas Carol with Alastair Sim. We have it on DVD but I notice it’s also available on YouTube, in the classic B/W. Here’s the trailer for the film:

Of course, we will be watching tonight but not before we go out to check out the neighborhood lights and get a pizza. In our own city, there’s a house that everyone’s been talking about. Evidently, it rivals the house in Christmas Vacation!

Because see, this year, we’ve realized that some of our choices (in the past) were not in our own best interests… and by that I mean… when holing up at home under a cloak of sadness and resentment that others have what we can’t, depression can only get more depressing and negativity can only begat more negativity. Would you agree?

I am, for some reason, reminded of the story of the fryer. Did I tell that already? I don’t remember. You know I’m a repeater, so if you know it, just mosey on to the end of this post and have yourself a merry little Christmas.

Here we go…

As might be obvious from the preamble above, we have never bought Christmas presents for each other. Well, never might be too strong a word… maybe once or twice out of twenty years. Almost never. Ahem.

Several years ago, while I was still working full time, we decided to buy each other presents.

It was brutally cold, snowy, and icy… just right for scary-ass driving. Just awful. I was still driving my little Saturn, which slipped and collided with snow banks and once, a telephone poll (luckily, nobody was harmed in that little debacle). These were the days I cried in the driveway before going to work because I was so scared. But I digress.

For reasons I can’t remember, I found myself in the final days before Christmas with nothing but a pair of PJs for my husband. I wanted to add a smaller gift and a big one. The stores were a nightmare of course, and in previous years, I had been so anxious, I’d left full carts in the middle of aisles and gone home empty-handed. Anxiety is so fun like that. Also, digressing.

I tried everywhere I could think of with nothing to show for it. Finally, I ended up at the smallest WalMart in town, which I know sounds huge because it’s WalMart, but it wasn’t. It’s long-gone now. Anyhow. I was a mess, what with the driving and the weather and the time crunch…

I ended up with a fryer. You know, for chicken or fries. I don’t even remember what I chose for the smaller gift.

So, Christmas comes and of course, I’m ooohing and aaawing over my husband’s gifts to me. As you know, it’s always the most thoughty gifts that make me swoon.

It’s time for him to open his gifts. Okay, nice pajamas, nice whatever the small gift was. Now, I get the huge box and he opens it.


You may be wondering if he lives for fried food? Perhaps he’s the cook in the house? Loves to fry stuff? Has always wanted one?

Um, no. None of the above.

I’d just gotten anxious and knew if I didn’t leave with something, he’d get nothing but pajamas.

Yes, he was kind. He’s *always* kind. He was generous in his understanding. He knew *exactly* why and how it happened.

But still, how embarrassing.

After Christmas, we returned it and he got new jeans. Win/win? Not exactly.

I will never live it down. But now – at least – I can laugh about it.

And the reallllly funny thing? We’ve thought, at least a few times, that it would have been really nice to have that fryer… for fries, you know?

So, there you go. My Christmas story for your enjoyment. You’re welcome.


Okay folks…

My final message to all my fine readers, friends and family…

This year is different and kind of awful… and we’re all just doing the best we can, I know. Be kind. Be caring. Wear a mask and keep your distance, whenever possible. Next year is the year for hugging.

God bless each and every one of you…

Merry Christmas!

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