A SUPER long-ass diatribe about Christmas
I sit here imagining Christmas, winter, and family dinner parties...
I think about the peculiar angle where one can see into the Back Parlor when you stand in a certain spot at the front door. I can picture the warm light from the parlors, and how the space really opens up when both rooms are lit and open. I remember the way the mirror over the fireplace seems to reflect so much more light, and how nice it is to sit on the love seat, curled comfortably, sitting right next to the stereo.
Now, I’m recalling the accumulated images of our Christmas tree. I picture it with the room lights off, the glow of the colored lights creating an intangible cocoon, and the smell of the tree heated by scores of the bulbs.
I can remember trying to get all the bubbling lights to work, and holding the glass tube under my tongue like a thermometer to heat the pale crystal things on the inside, so they bubble. It’s a chemical reaction, but one that seems so fantastical: it makes the light of the tree flicker a bit.
I can picture all the ornaments, mostly from the 70's, when my parents collected them. They didn’t collect ornaments like some people; I mean to say that they acquired most of the stuff on our tree at that time- the period they lived at Cabrillo (Richard’s old house), and in Fremont, and, I imagine, in Joliet, when they were still in Illinois. A lot of the ornaments are cloth; gifts from old relatives. My favorite ones are the balls: Styrofoam wrapped in polyester; so simple and plain, but my parents decorated them with ribbon and chain and beads, and they’ve become practically Baroque in their lush opulence (those tiny things hold so much fascination).
Those ornaments, and some others, are from the period of my parents’ lives when they did ceramics, and grew cacti and spider plants to sell at garage sales; the arts and crafts period in the US, and they did their share. They don’t do crafts anymore. My father used to do woodworking, but he only works on his apartments now, and he can buy most of what he needs- he doesn’t need his heavy tools anymore. My mother quilts, but she never finishes projects, she merely collects fabric.
The last time we did a craft together was years ago- years and years ago- and we only did that because we’d accepted to do the project for Girl Scouts. I miss doing crafts- I like doing them, and I like doing that kind of stuff around Christmastime even more. I remember one craft I especially liked, that I think we only did one or two years; I don’t remember exactly what it was, but it seems to me, it was making snowflake shapes with white glue, and freezing them; when they were frozen, you could stick them to the windows. It was better than paper snowflakes.
I can remember we used to line the outside of the house with Christmas lights, and out house looked like something out of a cheesy Christmas book. We stopped doing that because people (probably from USF) stole the lowest lights, and my parents got fed up with discovering broken bulbs on the ground every day. We still have the hooks attached to the house; just in case...
I seem to remember more people used to put lights up, but it may be that my childhood memories are more colorful than the actuality. I remember we used to count how many Christmas lights we saw in windows; we were never accurate, but it was so much fun.
Christmas is one of the (or possibly the) only times of the year our second front door is opened- to get the tree in, and to put it out.
We never made gingerbread, or gingerbread cookies, or gingerbread houses- we weren’t that traditional, but this year I feel like going all out; I feel like we should invite over a ton of people, and there should be an obnoxious-looking jar of tasty Christmas-themed cookies on the parlor table, and we would have deviled eggs and whipped potatoes (technically, they’re called potato puree), and candied yams the way Richard makes them- rather small pieces, but perfectly soft and soaked in the brown sugar sauce- and buttered peas, and cranberry jelly, and the slightly burned pineapple and cherries from the ham, and it would be before Christmas, so there’d be a crapload of presents still under the tree, and every now and then a couple of the family members would go out back to smoke, and the fire would be going strong in the fireplace, and the fridge isn’t yet full of leftovers, and the washer and dryer have been converted to a bar, and the hall is lit, and the banister is woven with colored tinsel garlands, and the hall closet is bursting with coats, and the street has no parking spaces because we’ve invited so many people.
I remember how each one of us would cloister ourselves in the kitchen for an hour or two, wrapping our gifts for others (although I’d usually already wrapped mine- I'm too eager by half).
I can remember how Mom hates going to the mall because there’s no parking, it’s super busy, and after four hours of wandering around, everyone is cranky because of the sensory overload, and because our feet hurt.
I miss negotiating baking time, so I can get my dessert ya yas out before the parents need to do the serious cooking.
Things I like about the holidays:
-I like baking decadent desserts, and knowing many people will enjoy them.
-I like seeing bare trees wound with tiny white lights in the shopping districts.
-I like seeing the brightly-lit Christmas tree lots.
-I like the smell of pine, and how the fragrance permeates the air when the tree is being dragged through the door.
-I like the bustle and nervous rush of decorating and cleaning the house before a dinner party.
-I like wrapping gifts: carefully selecting the perfect paper, making crisp folds, and curling yards and yards of ribbon.
-I like the warm light and frantic bustle in the malls.
-I like the smell of cinnamon.
-I like eggnog.
-I like taking each ornament out of its individual wrapping.
-I like the cast of the sunlight on Christmas morning.
-I like choral Christmas music.
-I like waking my parents early one day of the year.
-I like taping each new Christmas card to the hall stairs.
-I like counting each house that has Christmas lights in the window.
-I like the cool humidity in the air, and when it rains.
-I like using the fireplace.
-I like eating the crisp skin from the turkey.
-I like the scientific way my dad makes fudge.
-I like the bubbling Christmas lights.
-I like doing holiday crafts.
-I like seeing the presents under the tree.
-I like opening them.
You never knew I was such a deep person... But the online quizzes would have told you that.
I think about the peculiar angle where one can see into the Back Parlor when you stand in a certain spot at the front door. I can picture the warm light from the parlors, and how the space really opens up when both rooms are lit and open. I remember the way the mirror over the fireplace seems to reflect so much more light, and how nice it is to sit on the love seat, curled comfortably, sitting right next to the stereo.
Now, I’m recalling the accumulated images of our Christmas tree. I picture it with the room lights off, the glow of the colored lights creating an intangible cocoon, and the smell of the tree heated by scores of the bulbs.
I can remember trying to get all the bubbling lights to work, and holding the glass tube under my tongue like a thermometer to heat the pale crystal things on the inside, so they bubble. It’s a chemical reaction, but one that seems so fantastical: it makes the light of the tree flicker a bit.
I can picture all the ornaments, mostly from the 70's, when my parents collected them. They didn’t collect ornaments like some people; I mean to say that they acquired most of the stuff on our tree at that time- the period they lived at Cabrillo (Richard’s old house), and in Fremont, and, I imagine, in Joliet, when they were still in Illinois. A lot of the ornaments are cloth; gifts from old relatives. My favorite ones are the balls: Styrofoam wrapped in polyester; so simple and plain, but my parents decorated them with ribbon and chain and beads, and they’ve become practically Baroque in their lush opulence (those tiny things hold so much fascination).
Those ornaments, and some others, are from the period of my parents’ lives when they did ceramics, and grew cacti and spider plants to sell at garage sales; the arts and crafts period in the US, and they did their share. They don’t do crafts anymore. My father used to do woodworking, but he only works on his apartments now, and he can buy most of what he needs- he doesn’t need his heavy tools anymore. My mother quilts, but she never finishes projects, she merely collects fabric.
The last time we did a craft together was years ago- years and years ago- and we only did that because we’d accepted to do the project for Girl Scouts. I miss doing crafts- I like doing them, and I like doing that kind of stuff around Christmastime even more. I remember one craft I especially liked, that I think we only did one or two years; I don’t remember exactly what it was, but it seems to me, it was making snowflake shapes with white glue, and freezing them; when they were frozen, you could stick them to the windows. It was better than paper snowflakes.
I can remember we used to line the outside of the house with Christmas lights, and out house looked like something out of a cheesy Christmas book. We stopped doing that because people (probably from USF) stole the lowest lights, and my parents got fed up with discovering broken bulbs on the ground every day. We still have the hooks attached to the house; just in case...
I seem to remember more people used to put lights up, but it may be that my childhood memories are more colorful than the actuality. I remember we used to count how many Christmas lights we saw in windows; we were never accurate, but it was so much fun.
Christmas is one of the (or possibly the) only times of the year our second front door is opened- to get the tree in, and to put it out.
We never made gingerbread, or gingerbread cookies, or gingerbread houses- we weren’t that traditional, but this year I feel like going all out; I feel like we should invite over a ton of people, and there should be an obnoxious-looking jar of tasty Christmas-themed cookies on the parlor table, and we would have deviled eggs and whipped potatoes (technically, they’re called potato puree), and candied yams the way Richard makes them- rather small pieces, but perfectly soft and soaked in the brown sugar sauce- and buttered peas, and cranberry jelly, and the slightly burned pineapple and cherries from the ham, and it would be before Christmas, so there’d be a crapload of presents still under the tree, and every now and then a couple of the family members would go out back to smoke, and the fire would be going strong in the fireplace, and the fridge isn’t yet full of leftovers, and the washer and dryer have been converted to a bar, and the hall is lit, and the banister is woven with colored tinsel garlands, and the hall closet is bursting with coats, and the street has no parking spaces because we’ve invited so many people.
I remember how each one of us would cloister ourselves in the kitchen for an hour or two, wrapping our gifts for others (although I’d usually already wrapped mine- I'm too eager by half).
I can remember how Mom hates going to the mall because there’s no parking, it’s super busy, and after four hours of wandering around, everyone is cranky because of the sensory overload, and because our feet hurt.
I miss negotiating baking time, so I can get my dessert ya yas out before the parents need to do the serious cooking.
Things I like about the holidays:
-I like baking decadent desserts, and knowing many people will enjoy them.
-I like seeing bare trees wound with tiny white lights in the shopping districts.
-I like seeing the brightly-lit Christmas tree lots.
-I like the smell of pine, and how the fragrance permeates the air when the tree is being dragged through the door.
-I like the bustle and nervous rush of decorating and cleaning the house before a dinner party.
-I like wrapping gifts: carefully selecting the perfect paper, making crisp folds, and curling yards and yards of ribbon.
-I like the warm light and frantic bustle in the malls.
-I like the smell of cinnamon.
-I like eggnog.
-I like taking each ornament out of its individual wrapping.
-I like the cast of the sunlight on Christmas morning.
-I like choral Christmas music.
-I like waking my parents early one day of the year.
-I like taping each new Christmas card to the hall stairs.
-I like counting each house that has Christmas lights in the window.
-I like the cool humidity in the air, and when it rains.
-I like using the fireplace.
-I like eating the crisp skin from the turkey.
-I like the scientific way my dad makes fudge.
-I like the bubbling Christmas lights.
-I like doing holiday crafts.
-I like seeing the presents under the tree.
-I like opening them.
You never knew I was such a deep person... But the online quizzes would have told you that.