Santa Claus ain’t coming to town (or so you think)

With the days growing shorter and with no Thanksgiving to celebrate (just an imported, materialistic Halloween clashing with a somber Scandinavian All Saints, not that fun and games is a bad thing but could we make it more sustainable, yes we could and should) it’s all downhill from September. Christmas is the light at the end of the tunnel. But why sit and wait when you could start celebrating say...two months prior? Gently smoothing your way in, slowly introducing elements, carefully selecting gifts, if you intend to give any. Surely a saner and healthier method than the mad last-minute dash and face-stuffing stuffed into a few days that causes stress, headaches and gastrointestinal problems. No one needs that, surely.

That’s what I proposed we do at Casa Dita. Start early! Imagine my surprise when my proposal lost the vote. Inconceivable! I was prepared to do all the work. I repeat: ALL the work, because it wouldn’t feel like work, I would enjoy every minute of it. [Alas, I am beaten but not discouraged. And if you’re in the market for an enthused and efficient elf to help you out, you know where to find me. Will bring my own PPE. Will work for rum raisin fudge and Irish Coffee.]

But no. Apparently, I’m married to Ebenezer Scrooge and my children take after the Grinch. What disappointments the men in my life are, dearest denizens! To say no to a no-brainer! Let them soak in the dark and see how that feels like after yet another year of needing all the pick-me-ups imaginable to keep you going. Or…is it just me who needs them? Because I’ll admit that once upon a time I felt as they do, super annoyed when Christmas started invading the stores in October. Now I grudgingly admit I don’t mind so much. Strikethrough grudgingly, I’m owning it. Yes, I’m one of those outlandish people who get a twinkle in their eye when they catch that first glimpse of Christmas. Just the thought brightens the darkness of November and December. After Christmas, the days will finally, gradually grow longer. For me, foremost, Christmas is a promise of light to come and proof that darkness will never get the last word.

Oh…ohh…I see…all this sentimentality…maybe I’m just…getting old? I can’t wait, sweetie darlings! I know some absolutely awesome older women. They have seen it all and done it all, and when they look at you and listen to you, you know, you just know they know something you don’t with how gently powerful they are, and you can’t help but envy them their peace and poise, hoping you’ll be half as wise and worldly if you ever reach their age. And I know aging means pains and aches, physical and emotional, but I know of no other way to live a long life! If you do, gmail me (ms.ditaparker), let’s talk. Okay, happy Friday, have an excellent weekend! Or a tolerable one.

P.S. I’m doing it, the Grinches and that Scrooge notwithstading. I’m slipping in a decoration here…a textile there…soon everywhere. One. At. A. Time. By the time they realize what’s happening…presto, it’s Christmas!

P.P.S. Book recommendation! Your literary Advent calendar in 24 chapters.