Hark Call the Bells

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.

Mr. Grinch

Halloween is over and the stores did not spare a second in moving on to the next holiday.  Up go the sparkles and the music and the boxed sets.  The mailbox is stuffed with glossy catalogs that somehow make it look like even tools from Canadian Tire are cool gifts.  Every year, earlier and earlier… ridiculous commercialism… doesn’t mean anything any more… grumble, grumble… sentimental garbage… screaming, spoiled children… taking the Christ out of Christmas… will they ever stop playing that song?!… every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas’ on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.

Ok, fine.  I totally stole that last bit.  Apologies to Mr. Dickens.

Actually, none of that’s me.  Why?  Because I freaking LOVE Christmas.  The whole Christmas season.  Please don’t ask why, no one quite knows the… no, bad, stop that, Stephanie!  But I do.  I adore it.  I think it’s because I’m a summer person.  Winter is challenging for me, and the prospect of Christmas gets me through it.  (This made my sojourn in the southern hemisphere awkward, since down there, Christmas sits in the middle of summer, where it is totally unnecessary.  Then when the weather gets cold and you start thinking, “Ooohhh, cold.  Well, at least Christmas is coming,” you suddenly get hit with the awful realization that no, it is not.  Actually, it’s June.  Tough luck.)

The second summer ends, I’m always ready for Christmas stuff to start happening.  I’m not bothered if the shops start their Christmas push right after Halloween.  Sure, I wouldn’t even mind the middle of September.  I’m that person chomping at the bit to play carols and put up a tree as soon as November hits.  (House rule says December 1st though.  Probably for the best.)

Here are some of the reasons I love Christmas:

  • Hanging out with family and friends.
  • It means more lights up outside.  Sometimes coloured, sometimes not.  But they’re cheerful and comforting on a cold, gloomy night.  Even the irritating blinky ones.  (For those of you who were unaware, blinky lights = tacky.  Now you know.  You’re welcome.)
  • The music.  Love love love.  Especially the traditional, churchy stuff.
  • The movies.  So much schmaltz.  So much happiness: The Grinch, Charlie Brown, Claymation Rudolph, The Nightmare Before Christmas, It’s a Wonderful Life, Home Alone, A Christmas Story.  Love them all.  I could happily spend Christmas vacation watching these.
  • Everything smells like cinnamon and nutmeg: candles, potpourri, food, drinks, whatever.
  • Baking.  With cinnamon and nutmeg.
  • The pretty, pretty tree!
  • Getting cards in the mail.  (Much more exciting than the phone bill.)
  • Making a list.  Checking it twice.  Not really caring who’s been naughty.  Getting them presents anyway.
  • Parties where I get to wear pretty dresses and sparkly jewelry.

A Christmas past

I love it all.  It’s still November, but the countdown to December is getting shorter.  My tree is waiting in the basement storage, but I hear it calling my name.  Soon, I shall set it free.  I can’t wait!

(You can’t tell, but as I type this, I am doing my patented waiting for Christmas excitedly wiggle and bounce.  It’s pretty great.  Sorry you’re missing it.)

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