That edgy period before the holidays
Porter, content in my closet
Subie and Phil came for happyhour tonight, bringing Porter, his seeing-eye dog. Porter usually goes out inthe backyard and ignores us, a behavior that puzzles Sophie who laps up companyattention all she can. Today, however, the yard guys, with noisy lawnmowers andblowers, arrived about the same time the Greens did. The difference in dogreactions was remarkable. Sophie, as she always does, turned tail for the houseand once safely inside, barked ferociously. Porter, on the other hand, was notgoing to let some guys with stupid equipment force him out of the yard, andSubie had to go out and almost literally shove hm into the cottage. Then hewandered down the hall to my closet and spent the entire time there. I was gladSubie got him inside, because some of the crew seem to be afraid of dogs, and Ithought a dog his size would really keep them out of the yard.
Meanwhile, Sophie is barkingin fits and stops but especially when they come close to the cottage with theirblowers. So Phil decides he has to leave because of the barking. It took threeof us to convince him it wouldn’t last long, and, no, he couldn’t get down thedriveway right now, because they had blown the leaves into big piles—an obstaclecourse. Our oak trees are shedding heavily and yet still have an abundance ofleaves. The pecan by the patio is through, but now the oak leaves migrate tothe patio, so Sophie brings them in. I sweep every day. Phil stayed, Sophiequieted, and we had a jolly visit. Except for Porter, who remained in the closet.
In a strange way, a weekbefore the holiday, I seem to get over the sociability part of the holiday.Tonight was not a holiday celebration—no gift exchange, no fancy appetizers norspecial holiday drinks. I had warned them: leftover appetizers, which turnedout to be ends of this cheese and that. Jordan cut them up and made a nice display.Just good friends getting together in a relaxed visit. At least for me.
This is the edgy time, when I’vepretty much done all I can for the holidays, and I think, “Now, what?” Somewrapping and cooking details require Jordan’s attention, but for her it’s thebusy time. She is, however, a dedicated list maker and has long lists ofgroceries from various stores. And truth to tell, she has a lot more responsibilitiesthan I do. I remember those days. In fact, I remember when we celebratedHannukah and Christmas—with four children. I had spread sheets of who got whaton what day.
I have been beset by enough “business”problems to distract me from the holiday planning. Not the business of being awriter, but that of daily living. It’s the time of year for quarterly taxes andproperty taxes, and I need to have the trees trimmed by a real arborist (I’malready signed on for that). Now I need to wait for the plumber to fix thekitchen sink and pray that he doesn’t have to wait for a part—that suspicionlingers in my mind, but then I am given to worrying. I need to make a couple ofdoctor appointments, not for anything urgent but for check-ups. I figure awoman my age who spends as much time at the computer as I do ought to have hereyes checked regularly. And then, for a blue-eyed blonde, there are always skinchecks. But those are the things you put off until “after the holidays” so thatnow they just hover in my mind. I must pursue that free offer I signed up forwhich suddenly committed me to a year-long, expensive contract, but I did findout today the reason the nephrologist didn’t get my check is that it nevercleared the bank. So I had to stop payment and issue a new check. It’s alllittle stuff, details, but a pain. It’s perhaps like weaving with many strandsand constantly feeling you’ve lost one or two.
With family gathering looming,I don’t feel I can dig into the Irene manuscript I’m working on nor the food ofthe fifties book that is turning out to be a tribute to my mom. So far, eachday has kept me busy with those little details, but I figure the closer we getto Christmas the edgier I’ll get, and I am giving myself stern lectures aboutanticipation anxiety and all that kind of gobbledy-gook.
The plain truth of it is thatI love Christmas, love the lights and the music and the fellowship and thefood, but I get all keyed up waiting for it. This year, I resolve to stay calmand live in each moment, enjoying it for what it is. And then, there will comethat blessed moment when all my family is together. And we can watch themidnight candlelight service and welcome the hope that the idea of the holybaby brings, whether you believe in himor not. He brings hope for all of us.
