Wait a minute, didn’t we just finish eating all the leftover candy from Halloween? Seems only a few days ago that I scarfed down the last miniature Snickers bar. And wasn’t Thanksgiving just yesterday? And now I’m reminded that I have no clue what to get my wife for Christmas. She deserves more thought than a box store gift card.
Maybe a scarf—perhaps one similar to the 7 others I’ve given her over the last three years.
It’s been a busy month, and it’s just the first week of December. Take Saturday, for instance. Our grandson plays in the Science Hill High School band, so we watched the Christmas parade. The band sounded great; everyone was in step, especially the trumpets. The next best thing was the 40’s era John Deere tractor pulling a trailer load of, I’m sure, 4-H kids. I took pictures, but couldn’t capture the distinct sound of what we used to call the Poppin’ Johnnie.
Saturday afternoon and evening we watched football. Pat was not happy; I was ecstatic.
We spent Sunday afternoon at the ballet—we are Renaissance people. The Moscow Ballet performed Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker in nearby Asheville, N.C. The music was spellbinding, the dancers magnificent. An observation: gravity does not work the same for ballet dancers as it does for regular people. They float, glide and descend ever so softly to earth after leaps that make gazelles jealous.
The Christmas tree is up and decorated. And, if you will recall, extricating the tree from the attic was less than smooth. Fortunately, the plummet to the garage floor apparently did no damage. The lights came on. Our oldest grandson, Aaron, came over to help decorate and pull heavy boxes off shelves and into the house. He suggested Christmas music, popcorn, and whatever else was in the fridge. We laughed a lot.
I have presented Pat with my annual Christmas list—socks (one can never have enough), a classy hat, a Clemson cap (my alma mater), a few good books, and a grill light (grilling in the dark is dangerous). Her list has not been presented, but she probably doesn’t have a mauve scarf.
A short trip to an arts and crafts sale resulted in zilch. At a booth selling jams, honey, and spices that were locally grown, the proprietors assured me all were gluten-free and non GMO. They were not aware of my proclivity for gluten and GMO products. I informed them. They took the news stoically; we parted friends.
This coming Friday we will see a concert of 40’s music. Saturday we take in the Johnson City Symphony’s Christmas concert. Last year’s performance convinced us to make it an annual outing.
Finally, Sunday’s church service celebrated the first Sunday in Advent. The music was beautiful; the sermon short. The final hymn, Joy to the World, put things into proper perspective.