Christmas

The party season is in full swing and I am full of Christmas spirit … that mulled wine is great stuff …hic!

The husband has festooned the tree with two hundred and fifty lights. He likes the ones that flash best while I like the ones that don’t so we have to have both (our Uncle Bud and Aunt Mary in Bucks County, Pennsylvania have five hundred on theirs and lights outside to boot … show-offs). They’ll be crying when they get their electricity bill.

I trimmed the tree until it groaned with baubles and got red berry lights to put round the window.

The house looks like Santa’s Grotto and I have to say I love the sparkle inside when it is so cold and miserable outside. There is something to be said for celebration and feasting in the dark midwinter.

Some peeps go completely OTT and their decorations can be seen from orbit. Now there’s a Christmas gift and a half … a trip round the world on a space craft. How wonderful would that be? Talking of gifts …

The husband is great at wrapping presents. Even the odd shaped ones. He’s not a lover of Christmas though. I guess most men aren’t. In my experience if a man goes shopping he knows what he wants and where to get it. He goes in, buys it and leaves. They can’t understand why we women have to browse and buy stuff that wasn’t on our extensive shopping list, never mind on our radar beforehand. Unfortunately we are drawn to “so called” bargains like moths to flames. The irony of BOGOF is lost on us.

I think buying gifts scares the living daylights out of men. If they buy us an outfit a size bigger than we wear it is sure to reduce Christmas lunch to, “Get our own damn dinner, clearly I need to go on a diet!” If they buy a nice lace teddy a size too small they are in for a night on the couch with, “Who were you thinking off when you bought THAT little number?” ringing in their ears.

And if they actually do as we say when we tell them not to bother buying us anything … well! That would be go straight to the dog house until spring.

The dog is all confused as well and can’t understand why we go mental if he cocks his leg at the tree. And the baubles are like the balls we use when playing with him so he is baffled when we shout NO TOUCH. The poor wee furry fiend will end up needing therapy in the New Year.

And so to the Christmas lunch. In my case it is usually served on Boxing Day. No matter how I try to get ahead and plan the meal down to the last detail it invariably goes wrong … undercooked, overcooked, or never seen at all. I always get the blame but in my defence if peeps mill about the kitchen blocking the cooker, fridge and sink how am I supposed to get anything done? And although the husband is delegated bar duty how come there are so many thirsty peeps? How difficult is it to pour a drop of bubbly or mulled wine into an empty glass?

It took me a while to realise that Grandma was getting rather merry and risqué before lunch one year. Turned out some naughty little peeps were lacing her orange juice with vodka. She fell asleep in her Christmas pudding! Snored like a water buffalo … and by the way you can fund raise and buy a pair of those through Save the Children.org.uk. Or purchase mosquito nets, chickens, seeds and all sorts instead of sending gifts to people who have everything they need and then some. End of preaching.

One thing I am renowned for is my seasonal curry. That’s because there is always turkey left overs because my guests are all unconscious before the late lunch is ready. 

There is no doubt that the festive season is stressful and wrought with potential pitfalls and downright disasters. Why do we do it then?

I believe it’s because Christmas gives us a reason to rejoice and give thanks for being. Cause for sharing and caring. For adding sparkle, spice  and razzle and dazzle to our lives. How could we get through the winter without it?