Putting Christmas away

Most years, I mind putting Christmas on display a lot more than putting it away.

(Or, in the parlance of Texas: I mind putting Christmas up more than putting Christmas up.) It'll make sense if you think about it.

But this year, whether because I've waited a few days to do so instead of plunging in on the morning of the 26th, or because I wrote the 24 blogs on ornaments, I find the experience a bit nostalgic.

I've studied each ornament as I took it off the tree. I've pondered why I have so many and where they came from. As in: "This is my ornament? I don't think I've ever seen it before." Or, "These are not all going to fit back in the chosen boxes." Nor did they.

How does this happen? There's just not room! So, I rearranged.

All but the outside lights are now boxed and ready to be taken to the attic. The tree still needs to disassembled but I can't do that without the box in the garage and it's been raining and it's an ungainly box... and we'll get to it soon enough.

Then, just in the blink of an eye--or two--Christmas 2011 will be here and I'll see all this again and welcome the sight of it.

Lights out!

Whoever told you strings of Christmas lights are made in China, LIED. Lied, I tell you. They are made in Hell.

Last year, I put into storage working strings of lights. That would be the lights around the front door and the lights up the banister. While our pre-lit Christmas tree had already proved itself untrustworthy the second year of its existence by losing all contact with one portion of its pre-lit-ness, I had tucked away a string of lights to connect to it so it would resemble a whole tree. It is forgiven its transgression because by now, I don't care.

But the others are not. I had several strings (working when stored) in reserve. They did not completely work either. About 3/4 of each strand did. For the front door, I doubled good lights over bad and twisted them around nails in the hopes they will stay up there. For the banister, I disengaged the two strands, neither of which was 100% competent, and replaced with another which--let me hold my breath--worked for the time being.

Christmas lights: made in Hell.

Sleeping with the snowman

Nestled inside the big Christmas storage boxes are many little boxes, both to keep things in order and to keep things safe. Sure enough, nestled in with two reindeer and the wine bottle holder snowman was my angel. Her wings were a little bent (let us all raise our eyebrows here), but otherwise she was in good shape. I fluffed her out and hung her up!

An Angel goes AWOL

We've all seen our special angels go AWOL, or at the very least take a walkabout. Their timing is always guaranteed to frustrate the rest of us. This weekend at our family Thanksgiving rent-a-house-get-away-together time, grandson Jack wasn't feeling well. HIs ear hurt and his throat; his medicine hadn't kicked in sufficiently for his angelic presence to be always with us. Oh, he'd have his moments of glee, but then they'd go away. Today, Jack is on the road to recovery and his angel will be back in residence shortly.

But that's not the type of angel I'm writing about, although it makes an interesting aside. The Christmas boxes are hauled down from the attic and the living room looks like we're preparing for a major move. This, even after we took several boxes to the second hand store last Tuesday.

Last night I started decorating the tree, first putting up our special ornaments which aren't stored in the attic and which get pride of place. I worked for over 2 hours but at the end of that time, I still hadn't found our Christmas tree topper angel.

She was a gift perhaps 20 years ago. She's crocheted and stiffened with a glue compound which was popular to do then. I even tried it, but my snowflakes never stiffened sufficiently. But this angel was great! She's topped our tree ever since. But this year, she's AWOL.

I did cursory searches in boxes I thought we might have tucked her into for safe keeping. No, not there. Today, as I search through the rest, perhaps I'll find her, find that she's merely walkabout.

Otherwise, we'll have a bare-topped Christmas tree.

Getting a leap on the season

Yesterday afternoon, I decide to join the throngs at the local Walmart. I figured most of the line-standing would be over, especially since I hadn't anything to exchange/take back, so it shouldn't be any worse than a regular school's-just-out time of day, and it wasn't. I didn't want to wait until today because I did want to cash in on half-price Christmas ribbon--and anything else which looked appealing.

I was not the only one with the afternoon idea. Buggies, always a tight squeeze to get two through the aisles, crowded and pushed. I was late to the game, as it were, but I still managed to do my share of helping Walmart clear their Christmas stock. It would appear I was just in time because...

...it's Valentine's already! Did you know that? We are skipping right over New Year's and settling in on heart-day. I know this for a fact because the greeting card displays had nary a 'Season's Greetings'. They had all been replaced with Valentine's Day. A wall of Valentines. And if we, the willing public, don't get on the ball and divest the shelves of all the Christmas, no telling what will happen to all that hapless ribbon and paper and doo-dads as they follow the single-price Christmas greeting cards into oblivion.

Maybe I'd better go back.

Christmas Lite(r)

Christmas comes but once a year, but when pulling down the decorations from the attic, it seems it was but last week when we hauled them up there. My husband stands on the rickety pull-down stairs and pushes large box after large box of decorations and wrapping materials up to me the day after Christmas. I'm on a small landing pulling the boxes. Then I push them onto a half-floor, we dust ourselves off, and wait for the next year. In the meantime, he's carrying the bulky box of artificial, pre-lighted Christmas tree down to the garage for its year-long rest.

Therefore, it's no wonder when I asked this year if he'd like to decorate Christmas lite, that the words were barely out of my mouth before he gave an enthusiastic "yes!" We're not giving a large party and we're celebrating the Day at our son's.

No need for a big extravaganza decorating spree. Not really.

Which is why the place looks a little bare. Six years ago, knowing that we'd be flying to London on Dec. 27 for a wedding, I'd bought an artsy-tree. It's made from three tomato cages, painted gold and affixed upside-down in a lightweight pot. Garland winds from bottom to top and there are lights and fancy bird and fruit decorations on it. It's been living in the attic and took a bit of cleaning up to be presentable, but it's hung with our favorite ornaments.

Then, since they have their own homes, the stocking have gone to the sons. We have but three taped to the mantle, the third one belonging to the cats. The reindeer stayed in their boxes, although two Nativities (the reason for the Season, after all) are on the table.

That's it. At least it's more than the absolute no decor of 2005 when we spent the week leading up to Christmas in London. What I miss most, though, is the garland and lights I put on the stair railing.

So next year when we're hauling things down--all things, as it will be biennial party time--I don't want to hear (or think): Didn't we just put these up here?

De-Christmasing?

I spent the greater portion of yesterday undoing what I did less than a month ago. Down came the tree, the ornaments were carefully sorted and boxed, the garland and lights on the banister circled into their big box with the hope they would light again next year. I looked around the house to make sure I didn't leave anything out, only to realize a week later that it had been there so long I had forgotten to notice it. (It's happened more than once.) The big adventure was trying to remember where I'd stashed all the china cabinet regulars when my reindeer collection vacated.

Then I emailed a friend about my day and said I had de-christmased the house. Somehow that didn't sound right, never mind that I had made up a new word, one of my favorite (just ask my editor) pastimes. Should it have been de-Christmased?

Now that really wasn't right. Even if we could forget the "reason for the Season" and the sacredness of the event, we can't forget the Christmas in our hearts. I might take down the christmas in my home, but I certainly should never seek to get rid of the Christmas in my heart and by extension, at my hearth.

So, I shall merely say, I undecorated the house. And kept the Christmas.