Christmas Weather

In some places it is---

In some it is---

{Hello, Down under^}

And where I am it is always---

{Even the lights dolphin ^ agrees it's springing spring}

I feel thankful for my Christian friends for sharing their lights with us

Merry Christmas

The day of Mad Reckoning*

*a.k.a. Retunes (or exchanges)

We don’t “do Christmas,” unless you count the general good wishes of Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays and homemade cookies. It’s been years since I spent time in department stores scouting for gifts in the month of December.

But what I do hold onto this time of year is to not go anywhere near stores the day after the holiday. I have made that mistake twice, but no more. The first time, long ago, I was lured by promises of uber sales. The second time I did it by mistake. I forgot the madness of the day and thought it might just be the time to look for something that could have waited. I should have.

The day after national gift giving, hoards descend on stores with gift certificates that fell from the trees or were handed in office parties. They make a rather joyful bunch. They were not the problem.

The ones that got to me were the other faction crowding the stores— the people with return receipts to exchange gifts they refuse to use. They never seem joyful. In fact, they seem angry, cantankerous, and garrulous.

That first year I saw a young woman in tears that the bathrobe she got cost so little there was nothing she wanted to get for it in exchange. She had some choice words for the gift-giver who was not present. I saw a child who got a toy he already had, in tears because his mother would not pay for something he wanted as she would have to add too much $$$ after the exchange. The worst was an older woman who refused to take anything other than cash for her return, because she said she hated that store.

It was not pretty. The energy was the most unhappy and unspiritual that I could recall. I vowed to accept gifts from now on and only return them, if I felt an overwhelming inkling, sometime later. From then on, this was the day to NOT go anywhere near stores. It was the day to count one’s blessing that I was here, and not there.

The day after Christmas. That’s today.

HANUKKAH IS RATHER DROLL AT OUR HOUSE

That was the day before yesterday---

Photo of candle lighting second night taken by DD, so she’s not in it. The guys (DH, DS, and DD’s boyfriend) properly covered their heads and donned hats for the blessing of the candles—

A mad hatter’s party^

The night before that one was the first night of Hanukah. DD is vegan now, so I worried about how eggless latkes would pass for the real thing. I needn’t have. The vegan latkes were successful, maybe better than ever.

DS and DD had just returned from a wonderful all-day hike in Point Reyes. DS then proceeded to put on a Santa outfit and head with a sack of gifts for the little kids in the house next door. He does it at the neighbors’ request, and from the fact they ask him to please do it every year, he must be a good one. Nothing like a Jewish Santa! Only after DS’s Santa duty could we all light the Hanukkah menorah, sing songs, and EAT.

The only thing that went wrong was that DD came back without her wallet. She thought she might have lost it on the second of three buses they took, but couldn’t be sure. It had her bankcard, her ID, her Juilliard student ID card, her dorm room key, and some more things... Oh, and there was money also. All the cash she had.

The office for Marin Transit Bus Company was already closed, (Christmas eve) and would be for the next day. (Christmas day) We thought it might be closed Monday. (Christmas Day observed in offices) We had no way to call their lost & found.

We figured that if it isn’t located by the time we call on Tuesday, we‘d have a lot of work to do to replace everything. What a shame.

As my grandma would have said, “it’s always something.”

Now for the rest of the story---

DD called the bus company Monday just in case someone would be there, and a woman answered. DD didn’t have to say much, only that she may have left a purple wallet on bus line #68, when the lady asked, “do you go to Juilliard?”

Yup, they had her wallet. That afternoon we drove to San Raphael to the central terminal to collect it, and everything was in it.

But there’s more---

DD said there’s twice as much cash inside than she had before. All her IDs are there, and someone added some $$$.

Well, that’s our Hanukkah story, and we’re sticking to it.

Here’s hoping your holidays are joyous,

HOLIDAYS OVERLAP

Although they fall roughly on the same month, only a few times in every century do Christmas and Hanukkah actually occur at the same time. That is-- the first day of Hanukkah (beginning the evening before according to Jewish tradition) is also Christmas Day. Christmas Eve is also the evening of first candle lighting. 

This is one of those years.

If you celebrate both, or either, this one’s for you—

BEST GIFTS I EVER GOT

Whether you are a Christian or not, it is impossible to ignore 
the frantic gift-giving/receiving/contemplating/hunting/gathering/chasing that sweeps the land at this time.

And would you want to? I do my version of it and enjoy every bit. 
Giftation, or Giftatis, take your pick. It’s in the air, and I’m not holding my breath. I’m taking it in.

But I got to thinking what makes a gift really great. For me, it turns out to be the same whether on the giving or receiving end of it. It has to do with purpose and thought. If something I do involves concentrating on the person and their needs, it is fulfilling. If I sense the same in something I’m given, it is rewarding.

Generic does nothing for me.

We say, “it’s the thought that counts,” and mean the gift was a dud, but at least the giver thought about us. I think this saying is a dud.

A good gift conveys the thought was directed and specific. I can feel the joy that went into it, and this joy is akin to the joy I have experienced giving in the same way.

A long time ago, in what could have been a galaxy far away, a little boy who knew I had always wished I had an older brother growing up, made me an older bother. He made my older brother by drawing him, almost life size, and giving him a birthday, (three years older than me) and a face. His name is “Mirka’s Older Brother,” and he hangs inside my closet and greets me every day to start my day right.

It didn’t cost; it was all thought. That little boy was my son, way back in kindergarten.

His little sister, not yet four at the time, taught herself to draw what she knew was my favorite animal. She practiced feverishly on hundreds of pieces of paper until she felt she had it. 

She gave mom a pet no one else had.