It's pretty quiet here at the Casa de Ginley. Mr. is still snuggled safely in his bed. The chili is snuggled safely in the crock pot. The cranberries are gurgling on the stove. And the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the scents of cooking food to create a pleasant aroma.
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| Christmas 1966 |
As I enjoy the quiet of this Christmas morning, I look back on other, noisier mornings of years past. In my childhood, my parents piled us kids into the car to attend church at 6 a.m. Wriggling all the way through mass, the specter of gifts under the tree was stronger, alas, than the birth of a child millennia ago. Savior of the world or no, the presents held a more immediate allure that no amount of dirty looks from my parents could assuage. My sadistic parents would make us change out of our "good" clothes, brew themselves a cup of coffee and settle in before the wrapping paper rip-fest began.
Then there were the years with Joe in the house. Waking up early, waiting in anticipation to see how he would like his gifts. I guess it's a good sign that he wasn't greedy, but it was also a little unnerving that our kid would open one gift at a time, examine it and want to go play with it before opening the other packages. Not sure where he got that from.
Flash forward to this quiet morning. I finally put up the tree a couple of nights ago. There are a few things in Mr. Ginley's stocking. I renewed some subscriptions for him and bought myself three Alice Guy Blaché DVDs. And the gifts from the exchange yesterday with Joe and Jill are sitting in their pretty gift bag under the tree.
Today I'll watch a few Christmas movies, imbibe some hot chocolate and take it easy. If I'm lucky, Maggie Cat will sit on my lap.
I hope all of you enjoy a wonderful, safe, healthy holiday season, however you choose to celebrate. Or not.
Be it Christmas or Hanukkah (belatedly) or Festivus (for the rest of us).
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| Perusing Thomas the Tank Engine Storybook |
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