A Christmas Eve Story

Florida Ice Storm

What a day. I'd say that this is a Christmas Eve we won't soon forget but the way my memory is failing these days I can't really make that statement with any certainty.

Mr. Moon planned to get up this morning at some ungodly hour to go duck hunt. I asked him to please not go. It was going to be so cold. Why? Why? WHY?
"I'll be fine!" he said. "It was colder than this in Canada."
Whatever. Okay. Fine. Go ahead. If the man loves something that much he should do it. 

So he kissed me goodbye when he left and I mumbled something like, "Please be careful," or perhaps it was, "Please don't kill yourself out there." He laughed and said he wouldn't. 

Well. Spoiler alert- he didn't. Die, that is. He did not die.

However, when I woke up, I found that my phone had like three texts and two missed phone calls because I turn the sound off at night. Which I now realize is stupid. 
The texts were from Glen as well as one of the phone calls, and another call was from Jessie. 
He was in the ER. 
FUCK! 
I called him immediately and yes, he was in the free-standing ER where I'd gone with my appendix which is an excellent place to go if you need medical attention. The reason he was there was because he'd passed out in the duck blind.
Now. My husband does occasionally pass out. I've seen him do it a couple of times. It is generally associated with too much constriction around his waist and low blood pressure. Also, sometimes, the sight of blood. He knows he's going to do it, he announces it, and then he does it. Seeing an almost seven-foot man keel over is scary. But he's always fine afterwards and I've learned not to get overly excited about it although I definitely do not like it. 
So there he was in the duck blind with about four different garments around his waist because of long underwear, etc., and he announced that he was going to pass out and he did and it freaked out his friends so much, never having witnessed this before, that they did the right thing and took him to the ER where he was admitted. His blood pressure was fine by then, his oxygen levels were good, his cardiac enzymes didn't indicate a thing that was worrisome. They did a CT scan to see if he had a clot. He was hooked up to an EKG monitor. By the time I got there, he was extremely ready to get out. Not that it wasn't a pleasant place to be with all the nurses and techs wearing antlers and santa hats, etc., and the smell of delicious foods simmering in crockpots, but the gurney he was on was not nearly long enough for him and also it was getting boring. 
So the doctor came in with the news that the CT scan was clear and that everything looked fine but that he should get with his GP about getting a stress test. My man agreed that he would and the doctor gave me a penetrating glare as if to say- make sure he does!- and said we could go. 

So off we went, back into the cold and of course he drove and we had to pick up his truck but he was hungry so we stopped at a Cajun restaurant and had lunch as it was afternoon by this time. There he was, dressed in his camo, while I was in my overalls, Goodwill cashmere, Crocs, and black velvet coat. 
We fit right in. 

He was extremely cheerful and I was thankful. After lunch we picked up his truck and he drove off to Costco to buy me some new AirPods because one of mine stopped working yesterday and I could not get it to work no matter what I did and I live with those things in my ears and he wanted to get me another pair. Well, okay. To be completely truthful I said I wanted another pair and would stop at Costco on my way home to get them but he insisted on doing it and he did and he's fine. He's sitting in his chair, watching TV, napping on and off, and staying warm. 

All of the presents are wrapped, the new pods work beautifully, I've cooked the sausage and made the dough for tomorrow's sausage and cheese bread. We'll be meeting up with the kids and grands tomorrow around 10:00 for breakfast and presents. Rachel and Hank won't be there because as I said a few days ago, they have taken themselves off on a little beach getaway. 

They report that they are having a wonderful time although it's a bit chilly on the beach. Like, with the windchill factor, 34 degrees. Don't go swimming, Hank and Rachel! A shark might eat you for your nice warm blood!

So that's my Christmas Eve story and I know I should feel all grateful and like I now know the true meaning of Christmas (husband did not die) but I am a complete and utter Bitch Grinch and mostly I just wish he'd listened to me and stayed in our warm bed under the duck with Jack cuddled up between us. I have a feeling that even if the sweet Baby Jesus showed up at my house and gave me some of the frankincense and myrrh his mother couldn't use, I'd still be a Bitch Grinch. 

Although truly, I am so grateful that I probably can't admit it, even to myself. I can't imagine life without him and I do not want to.

And here, for your Christmas pleasure- the statue thing that came with this house and which now resides in the guest room in front of the fireplace. 

I do love it, especially the aforementioned Sweet Baby Jesus who looks so incredibly pissed off. 
"Really?" he is saying. "Do I have to? Come on, Dad, you're God. Couldn't you have just one more begotten son?"
Mary looks pretty good for having just given birth to an eighteen month old, doesn't she?

All right, y'all. Hope you get good sleep despite all the dancing of sugar plums going on in your head, and wake up to find that Santa has been to visit you with a sack full of Christmas magic and joy. 

Or, you know, a ham or a turnip or something. 

Love...Ms. Moon