I confess, this year I'm not getting into the holiday spirit much. I think the year I enjoyed Christmas most was the year I was going to church regularly and I could feel more of the palpable anticipation of Christmas.
But this year, like too many other years, I'm more worried about the schedule of what's on the to-do list, what obligations I must fulfill and the downright chores of the holiday. It's not that I mind most of these obligations, because Kissmoose can be very enjoyable and I get to see everyone I've missed for the rest of the year. I get to buy everyone presents, which I do enjoy. Sometimes I think long and hard about what I am giving people, and it is pleasing to think of them. Or I wouldn't want to be giving them anything. I look forward to seeing their faces when they open it. I suppose it's a sign of how I've grown up that I really don't care any more what people give me. I have become the watcher on Kissmoose day, the one with gifts still left while everyone is done.
It's hard to look forward to Kissmoose, simply because any time you spend a month, or 6 weeks or longer looking forward to something, it invariably ends up a dissappointment. I anticipate the dreadful things as easily as the nice things. I know my sister will be there, and I'm not 100% sure what I'll be able to stop myself from saying or what she will say. I'm not sure how polite I will manage to be to the younger nephews or my brother. And I'm looking forward to seeing the neice again and the older nephew, because I'm not sure how often I'll be getting to see them. Particularly the neice. She's 21 now, and graduating college. It's been a rude kick out of the nest for her, but she's got to learn to fly. She's very like me, and I tremble for her. I don't think I'm flying yet, but I'm definitely not in the old familial nest any more. I'm not to worry about her, but I will anyway. I'm good at worrying. It will be a different sort of Kissmoose this year. But if there has been any constant in my life it is that things change.
I have been cleaning the house and basement, much to the delight and amazement of Jazz. Well, it's not the vacuuming and dusting one expects when one mentions cleaning. It's more like excavating piles. I found all of the carboys with fermenting things. I'm cleaning all of the bottles so I can get rid of the bottles we don't need. And, hopefully, the end result will be visible heating ducts and access to the dryer. So we can remove the old dryer and put a new one in. And I'm trying to clean out cobwebs in my brain as I work. I have realized more ideas and formulas about stories, so maybe I'll focus more on that. I want to. I've always wanted to. But stories don't write themselves. I have to string together the scenes I see and record them. Otherwise, I'll keep telling silly jokes related to books I haven't written yet, and that's just embarrassing.
Christmas, and the days before it, are about preparing the way for Christ's arrival, the realization of the hope of the Jewish people that their Messiah would come. So I am preparing my own way, and I hope to realize some dreams this coming year.