Here we are at the edge of the precipice; the day before the great culmination of a month’s worth of baking, shopping and decorating. It’ll be over quicker than a groom on his wedding night. But that doesn’t make it any less fun.
This morning I opened the last of the advent boxes on the calendar, and inside was a little gingerbread man with Bruce Campbell’s face pasted on the head. It was pretty cool. Norton assured me I could eat it because he’d printed it with edible paper or something along those lines – but I’ve seen the stuff that he eats, and I’m also pretty sure in elementary school he was the kid who ate paste.
I won’t take up much space today because a) I don’t feel like spending all my time on the computer today and b) it’s Christmas Eve.
When I was a kid I loved Christmas Eve, it was the anticipation more than anything. Although we didn’t have the best presents under the tree there was always something there from Santa. It may not have been what we’d asked for (almost always not) but it was usually something we could use. Invariably it was underwear or a tooth brush, and one year our stockings were full of mandarin oranges - and nothing else.
Whenever I hear certain Carols I think about my little brother Curt who with the ears of a kid heard things a little differently. He was always perplexed by Verge. There was Mary, who was the mother of Jesus, and Joseph, the wise men and the shepherds and all the animals but who was Verge? Because they always talk about the Verge and Mary but you never get to find out about him.
Anyways, the way we used to think of Christmas as kids shouldn’t be too far away from how we act as adults. So here’s hoping there’s a least one pair on gonch under the tree this year.
Merry Christmas to all, and hope they don’t fit too tight.
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