I have a great reason though.

While I was waiting for my coffee to set (or whatever coffee does when it’s made in a French press), I went down to scoop the kitty litter. After that *exciting* task was done, I was watching the kittens play on the couch a bit when I noticed some of Jay’s boxes of checks had been scattered on the floor (remains of kitten play time).

They look so cute and innocent.

I picked those up and then was inspired — I’ll move one of the seven freakin’ tables that are cluttering up “Man Town” into the corner of the room and put a rack of his CDs on it. I’ll surprise him with my assistance! 

Bad idea.

But, I thought I could lift that three tiered rack with all the CDs in it–no problem. And it wasn’t a problem, for the most part.

I just had gotten it on to the edge of the table when ALL OF THE CDs FELL — making a huge noise and a huge mess. Breaking some of the cases.

Oh but wait, there’s more.

The cats FREAKED out and ran upstairs.

The Brave Ms. Tika

I picked up the CDs — the clock, of course, not stopping for me — hurriedly tried to make them look nice in the rack, & mentally beat myself up for thinking I could move that shelf with the 90+ CDs still intact.

With that delay behind me, I went upstairs to pour my coffee and get on the road.

But the cats were WIDE EYED and just coming out from their hiding spot behind the couch. As much as I know, what’s in their minds is “The big noise meant danger!”

Odie’s tail was puffed out, making him look like an orange raccoon. He stayed by the couch.

Tika came over, crouching down, inching so cautiously to the cellar door, looking carefully. around. the door. Andthenrunningbacktothecouch. There must be a monster in the basement.

She did that a couple times, sometimes with a puffy tail. And then whenever the two would see each other, they’d get startled again and the tails would go out.

I couldn’t leave them like this, especially since the kitty litter (all freshly scooped) was down there — and Mr. Odie has been quite and inappropriate “eliminator” lately…

How can you resist that face?

I walked down into the basement slowly, coaxing them with treats. Still with the wide, dilated eyes, they crept down down — well, half-way down the stairs. Brave Ms. Tika even went down to the floor, and peeked around the corner of the chair to see if the Noise Monster was still there.

This probably could have gone on for another half hour if I had the time or patience. I’m surprised at what scaredy cats they are, despite being destructive little forces themselves. Hopefully they’ll get un-freaked-out by the time they need to use the litterbox. I’ll find out tonight.

Families have drama. It is what it is. Christmas comes every year. It is what is. Love is there to carry us through.

Christmas is different now that I’m an adult. I’ve been an adult for awhile, but it’s recently sunk in that I am there in that adulthood. Though I can’t go back to be a dependent kid, I can still embrace the excitement of a kid — and make it even better.

This morning at breakfast

The view this morning

The kittens are intent on playing with the ribbon

It’s the first year without Uncle David, stepgramma Joan and Lauren (my brother’s ex). The last two being the most recent losses.

There wasn’t any talk about my stepsister’s canceled wedding … Until she left with her dad for lunch. My stepmom did all her “dirty work” for her to cancel the hall, the dress, flowers, DJ, etc. The wedding was supposed to be tomorrow.

We had pizza and lots of apps … And lots of wine. With it also being my stepsister’s 21st birthday, she and my 20 yr old sister were focused on the hard alcohol.

Presents were plentiful — and laughter. I was told that I showed a bitey sarcasm that’s not usually seen. Blame it on lack of filter.

Grampa was confused and having a tough time with the day, seemingly not because his wife wasn’t there but because the noise, the activity and the difference in his routine at the assisted living facility. This is new. But at 92, he’s entitled. It’s great to see how good my stepmom is with him.

Last night we were up giving saline nose drops to Odie, googling OTC decongestants for cats and running a hot shower with drops of tea tree oil for him at 3am. He was snarfling all night.

Today, more fun and family!

Merry Christmas!!

Presents are bought or made, most of the wrapping is done. Cards to be filled out and presents to be grouped by destination. Today is Dad’s.

Tomorrow is Jay’s parents’, then his aunt & uncle’s, then Mom’s. A total of 400 miles in 2 days.

And to add to the fun, I’m consumed with worry. Some from the traveling and the gatherings and all their dynamics. But my cat Odie is sick (still). He’s been coughing, sneezing, lethargic & has had diarrhea for a while — we had a trip to the vet and chest X-rays last week.

I thought he was turning a corner for the better, but last night he developed a swollen runny eye and that kicked up his congestion more.

He has his appetite, but he’s gone from playful instigator to scared, passive sicky. It seems like he probably has an upper respiratory infection. Thankfully, right now, he doesn’t have a fever. The vet is closed until Monday.

So of course I worry about leaving him. I’m sure he’ll just sleep while we’re gone, but it’s much easier on me if I could be there to watch him sleep, as crazy as that sounds. But with the schedule of gatherings, especially tomorrow, we’ll be on the road from 9 a.m. tomorrow through some time during the day the following day. Jay’s parents are coming to feed Tika and Odie (even though I swear his mom does not like cats), but (or, so?) I still worry.  Worry gets in the way of so much. And it does nothing.

Odie trying to help wrap gifts....even though he's not feeling great, he's still intrigued by paper bags

I’m also hoping my new meds will kick in. What a great time to add another antidepressant into the med regime, huh? It has been the hardest couple weeks I’ve had in a long time trying to assimilate this new drug in my system to help me not be so depressed. All I know is that I feel like I’ve reached my saturation point with trying to hold all my emotions and feeling like I need to hold the emotions and baggage of those around me — to be the rock. I don’t feel so rock-like. Some of this is environmental/behavioral. And some of it is biochemical.

But, in Christmas news, the Chestnut Place Christmas party was on Thursday.

Looks like a blast, doesn’t it? Everyone lines up, loads up plates with goodies (these are little pieces of cake in the front here) and stands around the room eating and talking. It’s a great excuse to see people in their Christmas sweaters and talk about Christmas preparation.

Yesterday, I did some last minute shopping for stocking stuffers and also I took a trip over to see my friend Kelly. She brought me some amazing Vietamese eggrolls and spring rolls. I could eat them for days. (I just polished off three more for breakfast.)

I also decided to stop at Gerardo’s Bakery and pick up cookies for today’s gathering at my dad’s, and also, on a whim, I picked up a half dozen cookies to bring to Richard and Irene and Taproot Bookstore. I love those guys and haven’t seen them in awhile. They feed my soul. I bought a few things and put together a crystal “medicine bag” for my sister.

It felt good. It felt really good.

Here is the extent of my Christmas decorations.

I didn’t put up a tree this year. It’s the first year I didn’t have a tree. And I’m ok with that. I love my simple green swag and lights in the windows. (And yep those are my feet in the left corner.)

Christmas is about honoring the darkness and welcoming in the light, the anticipation of spring. But for now, rest. Enjoy the promises and surprises the light brings to the tableau of your life — however you want to interpret that, be it Christ or the earth’s light.

I’ve forgotten that this confusion about Christmas has been with me for years. I see posts from other Christmases bemoaning the same. And mentions of the comforting traditions and my favorite Christmas.

Even if I have neglected to put up a tree, the one thing that is so essential, I do believe that the old traditions of the holiday are beautiful and important. They warm my icy, sad heart. But it’s OK if they’re not acted on every year. We determine what we want to celebrate and how, not the other way around.

The little chocolate balls I’d get in the bottom of my Christmas stocking. The Silent Night candlelight service. The Ray Conniff Singers Christmas album. The tree ornament I made out of a melted plastic strawberry basket when I was in nursery school (and we didn’t know any better to not heat plastic).

I love these old memories. Sometimes I bring them to life. And some things have changed. New traditions are created. New ways of celebrating.

Tonight is winter solstice, the shortest day and the longest night. I wish to burn the old ways of thinking — the “shoulds,” the mental traps of obligation and the memories of trauma that I drag around with invisible chains. Say goodbye to those thoughts and past pains — bring in the light of newness. Bring in the light of my innocent, original child who sees everything as new.

Tonight, I welcome in the strength of the silent source of Love that already lies inside me.

Going out for delivery tomorrow!

My friend Kate at work told me about her friend Matt’s mom who lost her husband, and Matt is trying to get everyone he knows to send his mom a card to help her not feel so alone.

I love it. Write a little note to a stranger and the world gets a little smaller.

It just takes a minute — a card, an envelope, a stamp.

Hope you’ll do the same! Instructions here on this Facebook event.

Tonight there is a department Christmas party at a coworker’s house. The next two nights have some personal appointments. The work week is busy with fulfilling requests that need to be done before year’s end. But this week is the Christmas party put on my building management (this year with the raffle ticket money going toward the rebuilding efforts in Brimfield). I’m nearly a week into starting a new anti-depressant. Jay and I are still adjusting to being under one roof. And, my stepsister called off her wedding that was supposed to be the day after Christmas.

And it’s the Monday before Christmas.

All in all, I’m — OK? My mood is really low, and I keep having these philosophical conversations in my head about the true meaning of Christmas. The “conversations” don’t go anywhere. My mind is folding in on itself.

Mantra: simplify, simplify, simply. And let go of the need for everything to be perfect or the way you think it “should” be.

One of the best Christmas days I’ve had was in my junior year of college. I was singing with a quartet for the 12 days of Christmas at the Publick House in Sturbridge, Mass.

We sang traditional Christmas carols and madrigals, acapella, in four-part harmony. And a bonus – we got paid to be professional Christmas carolers.

We were all members of the Westfield State chorale. That’s how we got the gig. Others had done it in past years.

That year, my best friend Gregg sang tenor, I sang soprano, and our friends Josh and Jen sang bass and alto respectively.  Sometimes Jen would take the soprano part.

We strolled through the restaurant, from dining room to dining room, and sang a song or two for the room, depending on how many people were there and how receptive they were.

It was hard work, being on our feet for a few hours and singing continuously. On about the 8th day, I got sick with a cold. But the show had to go on, despite a killer sore throat.

When we weren’t singing together, Gregg was staying at my mom’s house with me, since Mom lived a half hour away from Sturbridge, and Gregg and I were inseparable.

We sang on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I left family celebrations to work. But it didn’t seem to matter. I loved the music and singing it. It wasn’t work.

Granted, at the end of the 12 days, I was ready to stop. My voice was tired and so were my feet. The cold hadn’t gotten any better.

But I look back on that Christmas as one of the best. I couldn’t ever recreate it exactly.

We sang well together, blending beautifully. It wasn’t even about the songs, but about the interplay of our voices — four sounds coming together to create MUSIC. When a clear note comes from my voice, reverberates in my head and through my body, then intertwines with other notes and other voices in harmony, it is bliss. It is alchemy.

Music is missing in my life, especially at Christmas. But so much holds me back. My voice would need work before committing to a group of musicians. And then there’s that word (“commit”). I’d have to remember how to read music. My piano sits untouched downstairs, but calls to me.

I’m the only one in the way of making time for the things that make my soul sing.

Musical star photo credit