This is my entry hall table, and the display symbolizes how I feel about this time of the season.
Torn between two lovers, eatin’ lots of food…
Oh wait. That’s not how the song goes. But it’s kind of appropriate.
Thanksgiving falls stressfully close to Christmas this year. So while I am excited that my daughter is home for a few days (and making pies in the other room with a childhood friend right now. Mama joys!), it’s kind of like a pressure cooker holiday season.
Like my table, Christmas is wedging itself into Thanksgiving. The Poinsettia is like every store, throwing holiday cheer in my face whether I want it to or not. The Amaryllis are laying in wait, politely taking their time. But, like Christmas, I know when they arrive, they will be unavoidable and require my total attention.
Meanwhile, the guest book lies waiting for all the happy, busy voices that will come and go in the next few weeks!
I love Christmas. I really do. And yes: I have started my shopping, but mainly because I hate feeling pressured at the end. And yes, I have poinsettias all over already, but that’s because last weekend the cheerleaders dropped them off (and the choir brought wreaths and garland, and the boy scouts delivered my holiday pots).
A holiday purist, the tree will not be purchased or put up until after Thanksgiving. And yes, it will be a real tree. And yes, I will be cleaning up needles for weeks. And yes, I will be okay with it, you fake tree aficionados! HWSNBN and I will do half the tree decorating soon, as I can’t stare at a naked tree for long. Bt we will do the bulk of the decorations — namely the ornaments with memories — until after the kids arrive. Yes: both of them! Sailor Boy and Singer Girl will both be here for the holiday. Woot woot!
I know I am not the only one who feels stretched and pulled like a pair of leggings after that second helping of pie. In the evenings between December 1 and 25, I already have 14 evening commitments. I am looking forward to them all individually, but maybe not collectively?
But for the next 48 hours, it’s Thanksgiving, and I will be thankful for everything. I won’t complain about the family dramas, because I am glad to have a family. I won’t complain about eating too much, because I have food. I won’t complain about the dishes or the driving or the too-tight clothes the next day or the weather or anything. Because: I am thankful.
So to all of you who find the line blurred as well this year, whichever side you straddle:
Gobble gobble, ho ho ho! I hope you enjoy everything as much as sanely possible. I’ll think of you all tomorrow between Cranberry Margaritas!