Uh-huh, oh yeah.
First thing I did was to clean out that hen house. My ladies need a poopy-free zone to roost in, don't you know? Or, for at least one night. Let me tell you something- hens and a rooster can trash a roost like a rock band can trash a Motel 6. If they had tiny TV's in there, they'd smash 'em up and throw 'em off the balcony into the pool. But they don't so they just poop a lot. Which is fine. Chicken shit makes lovely fertilizer.
And then. And THEN, I went upstairs to the room which has become sort of a depot for all sorts of bizarre and under-used items such as the belly cast that we made for Lily when she pregnant with Owen and some sort of taxidermied animal (which is laying on the bed) waiting to be picked up by Gary From Canada (this could take a while) AND the Christmas shit. I went through the boxes of ornaments until I found the one with my most precious and beloved shit including things like this
And I set up that poor little innocent Norfolk Island Pine and I had to tie some fishing line to the top of it and anchor it to the wall to correct the scoliosis and then I covered it in lights and ornaments. Now it looks like this.
That took me approximately two hours. I am not kidding you. It's still a little...jaunty. And you can barely see the tree beneath all the Christmas Memories and the canoe keeps sliding off but whatever. I HAVE A CHRISTMAS TREE!
Then I did the Nativity.
One year Hank was setting it up and he added Buddha to the mix and now it's tradition. I like the seashell too. Don't ask me why. But I do. And it's MY nativity and I can do whatever I want to.
And then, for the final touch of Christmas Cheer, I plugged in the vintage Santa.
Isn't he just the evilest Santa you ever saw? Glory Hallelujah! All hail the Power of Evil Santa! Now there's a Santa you can use to scare your kids into good behavior with.
Speaking of kids, Lily and Jason took Owen and Gibson to some sort of Christmas festival thing yesterday and Lily sent me these pictures.
Doesn't Owen look festive? And doesn't Gibson look mystified? I believe if he could talk, he would be saying, "What the heck?" At least he's not screaming.
And then, of course, to top off the day of Holiday Cheer, I went to the Opera House and helped serve dinners and then went upstairs and sat onstage and knit and I broke the glass in the bucket and we got that show done and then we ate some tasty leftover ham and potatoes and green beans and peas and then I came home and made a martini at 11:00 at night and proceeded to stay up for hours. It was awesome. In fact, that may have been my Christmas party. It was the best sort of Christmas party for me in that there was no groping of strangers in the bathroom, no holiday dress requirement and no Christmas music whatsoever. I woke up this morning and can still look myself in the eye. I didn't dance on any tables, I didn't tell the boss to fuck off and I even washed the dishes.
So there you go.
I've taken the trash, I've got laundry going, and I've talked to my Lis. In a few hours I'll be going back to the Opera House to help break down the set and collect my rocks and whatever else I've left there and then I'll come home to reunite with my husband who is returning from the woods. It's been a good weekend with a strange mix of the social and the solitude and yesterday, while watering the front porch plants I found this.
Baby's been laying in the fern. Four tiny, perfect brown eggs and I felt as if I had just gotten a Christmas present, the best kind- useful and beautiful. They're now in the kitchen in the pecan bowl with two regular-sized eggs
and right now the chickens are scratching away in the leaves amongst the camellias and ferns where right beside them, the wild birds are visiting the feeder.
My goodness! That's enough pictures, don't you think?
My friend in Rome reported that he saw the Pope yesterday although he had tried to avoid the cavalcade in which he was going to be passing and he said that when the Pope drove by in his Popemobile about ten feet away, he looked, "Old and tired, frankly." And that as he passed, "the ladies cooed, 'Oh, papa.'"
I will leave you with that.