Christmas Tree Angel


December 19, 2003

Yayyyy!!  Today is my kids' last day of school this year!  They'll be home any minute and then it's two weeks of kicking back.  I really enjoy having my kids at home.  We all get to sleep in a bit, no schedules, lots of cuddles, everything is suddenly on remote control ("Bring Mama the phone."  "Go get Mama a Diet Coke."  "Get your brother a glass of milk.").  Since they open presents this Sunday, they'll be happy and busy and it's going to be great! 

Eric is only has one small job to do today, so I can take the afternoon and go to the thrift shop to fill in a few holes in the Christmas picture, so to speak.  Ahh.  Alone time.  It's like the White Buffalo Baby:  so rare and so very sacred and pretty much a miracle.   Delena has a Girl Scout Christmas party tonight for which I have to make 2 dozen cookies.  I was going to buy them, but Eric gave me Bad Mom look, so I'm obligated.  Before we take her there, we are gong to drive the kids around to look at the lights and decorations that are up.   Right now, I've got a headache, but going to bed isn't really an option.

This webset reminded me of a few nights ago when Delena and I were sitting together on the cuddly, overstuffed sofa in the family room, looking at the Christmas tree.


This is the sweet angel that adorns the top of our tree.  I pulled Delena closer and told her the story of how she got there.

You see, Santa was having a really bad day.  He woke up with a headache because he didn't have time to get his optical prescription changed before the holiday rush hit.  The brandied eggnog he had before bed wasn't helping.  As he was sitting down to breakfast, Melfin, the foreman of the Train, Car and Moving Vehicle division, knocked on the door in a panic.  There was an "Elf In" being staged at the main warehouse and nearly 3/4 of the Elf staff was holed up WITH the toy supply, refusing to work until the hot cocoa supply was changed from Swiss Miss to Stephens Gourmet.  The cost of the upgrade would be crippling, considering how much the little pointy-eared suckers slurped up, especially during rush season.  Santa put his fork down and gave the Breakfast That Would Not Be Eaten a cursory glance before hurling his napkin into his plate and going to his computer to pull up the database for children's letters.  "404 error:  You are not authorized to view this file."  "Wha?"  He tried again. Same thing.  He tried to access the Good Kid/Bad Kid files.  Same thing.  He reached over to dial up the Pixie Pixels and was put on hold after being informed by a high pitched, recorded voice that his call was very important to them. 

As he was waiting, Mrs. Clause came in and told him she needed the computer for Everquest.  He told her he would be finished in a minute and she crossed her arms over her ample bosom and stood about  four inches from him, waiting... waiting.  She started tapping her foot.  "How much longer?"  The recorded voice urged him to stay on the line, that his call was important.  He got a beep and gambled to take it.  Melfin again.   The striking elves were threatening to start burning the toys.  He said he'd be right there.  Clicked back to the Pixel Pixies.  A dial tone.  He'd missed the call.  He slammed down the receiver. 

"Are you finished yet?"  taptaptap  He tried to access the files again.  Still not authorized.  "Um, today?"

"The files aren't coming up."

"What files?"

"The FILES, you know, good kids, bad kids, 'Bring me this for Christmas.'  THE FILES."

"The files are gone?"

"I don't know if they're gone, but they're not coming up."

"Did you back up the files on CD rom?"

*pause*  "No... not in a week.  No, I indeed did not."

"You should have backed them up.  Then you could pull them up from disk."

"Well, yes, then I could.  That's true."

"So you're telling me you don't have any idea what each kid wants, where they live, who should be getting what or anything?"  Her voice grew more shrill with every word, it seemed and by the time she got to the "anything," it was nearly supersonic.

"No, I don't."

"Well, Kris, I think it's safe to say, you're screwed."

"No, I'm not, it'll work out."


Santa cut her a look and headed for the door, grabbing his red coat.  He slipped it on and tried to buckle it, only to find it no longer reached around his belly.  He struggled and inhaled and pulled as Mrs Claus' voice tinkled in from the office, "Dryer shrinking things again, Rotundo Claus?" 

Another knock at the door.  A little angel there smiled brightly and said, "Where would you like for me to stick the tree, Santa"?

And that's how the poor little angel got the tree up her butt.

Fortunately, Delena laughed a good deal and it was "our moment."

I bought myself a Christmas gift.  I was ordering some things on a charge account that I have and swore I'd never touch and I came across this monkey vase.  At first, I thought it would make a great chalice, but it turns out to be HUGE and also, the inside is very shallow, like a small bowl instead of going deep into the vase it's actually supposed to be.  Trying to decide what to do with it.  I could put sand in it and let it be a smudge bowl (we use bunches of sage, cedar, sweetgrass and such tied together like this:

because the properties of those herbs are very cleansing and purifying.  You tie the stuff together (I actually prefer sagebrush, but white sage will work as well), light the end, blow it out like incense, the take it through the house (or over You) to clear the air and dissipate negative crap.  It is great for cleaning bad nasties out of houses, like anger, frustration, fear, etc.  Anyway, the smudge bowl is where you put the smudge stick down when you aren't waving it around into the corners of the room (where stuff collects).

I could also put some florist foam green stuff in it and poke incense or flower in it.  I'm still deliberating on the ways the monkey will be used.

While we're looking at cool things, here are some wonderful gifts I've gotten lately:

This is the Dapper Dan ("I don't want FOP, goddammit, I'm a DAPPER DAN MAN!") clock from my favorite movie of all time, "O Brother, Where Art Thou?"  That was from my friend, Sherry Mercurio.  *sigh*  I love it.

This pretty little angel is a gift from my friend, Kathy Hardeman.  Her skirt is decorated with flowers and greenery and the bottom says, "I'll always care."  *sniff*  Me too, honey.  In the background, you can see the beautiful Protector statue my friend, Maurine, sent me earlier this year and pretty little floral pig my sweet Patricia sent to me last year.  Patricia was one of those net friends that you adore and who just *disappears* one day without a trace.  I really miss her a lot.

Anyway, thanks to everyone who has sent me these lovely things.  They are a tangible reminder that there are people out there who care about me and that means the world to me.  With my dad long dead and this being the first Christmas without my mom, I've been feeling a bit teary lately, even though I do have my beautiful children and wonderful husband around me.  I will be grateful in a way when I can think about Mom without tearing up.  It still hurts so much and it's been almost a year (hard to believe).  It still leaves me breathless to think about her being gone and I can't seem to shake it.  The bottom of my stomach seems to drop out and I'm dribbling before the thought is even complete.  I've got to snap it together.

I do have to admit that the freedom of crying is one of the glories of age.  A good purge can do wonders to clear the system.  Amazing how values change as one gets older:  a good cry, a good hug, a good bowel movement, good food, good sex, good music, a good movie, good friends... all are just so much more satisfying after 40, especially when all of the above can often be in short supply.  When they're there, it makes it all the more precious. 

I also found a couple of funnies for you:

Click here:

I can see where they would be confused.
 Latin, incense, robes, chanting, candles...
I'm sure the Catholics are much more offended
than the Pagans.  We got no grief with them. :)

With that, I'm going to say goodbye for the weekend.  The next time you hear from me, Christmas/Solstice will likely already be in my rear view window!

Take care and have a STELLAR weekend!