I’m pretending I’m ready for Christmas.
I’m pretending the cards that say “Merry Christmas” would be funnier if sent in January or even March. “Ha Ha! Kathleen is such a crazy Christian! Doesn’t she know 7 lb. 8 oz. Baby Jesus was born on 12/25/0000?!!?”
I’m pretending my house is clean and smells of frankincense, pine needles or other nativity-esque scents, instead of wet dog.
I’m pretending my Christmas dinner for my in laws (this Sunday!) is all planned, and that a rib roast will come out of the oven via a Christmas Miracle and my dishwasher will be found to be HEALED and REPAIRED by the power of the Holy Spirit.
I’m pretending that sugar cookies purchased from the store and iced at home by family members willing to do that work for me will taste better. Ok, that’s not pretending.
I’m pretending my mom will be with me and complaining about something, anything, this Christmas.
But, in reality, my mom won’t be with me, my dishwasher will not be fixed, and my Christmas cards will not go out within the next week. These are disappointing but real facts.
And yet, I’m not dreading the holiday. I know the store-bought cookies will be good, the rib roast will arrive via Saint Eric, patron saint of women who are poor cooks but married well, and my Yankee Candles will drive away the scent of canine funk.
Be happy, all. I’m happy. I’m also sad. But I’m thankful. I’m thankful for memories, good food, great friends and family, and you.
Thanks for being my friend and reading my little blog.