Merry Christmas!

I wanted to wish everyone who takes time in their day to share my angle on the universe, a very Merry Christmas, a joyful holiday and hope your days are as blessed as mine. I was trying to think of a good Christmas Story to share with you, and I am so fortunate to say, that I have so many good ones, I am not sure which one to choose. That is a priveledge I try to honor, and pass on to my kids. In our house, Santa wraps the presents and leaves them under the tree. My parents used to leave Santas unwrapped. I now understand the logic in this, but I have also incorporated another personal Christmas Eve ritual - wrapping presents until the wee hours while drinking coffee and Kahlua, and watching The Lord of the Rings. I have this weird thing about this film. (its a little embarassing actually.) You know, its like someone discovering that you still suck your thumb - that kind of humiliation. (And I have no idea why I am this way, but whatever. Now is not the time to delve into that). So after a whole year, I am totally excited to get to watch this movie. A couple of days ago, Eric lent them to a friend of his, and I nearly had a panic attack. I pounced and then asked in pleading desperation "Will he bring them back by Christmas Eve?" Eric has no idea how long I've been anticipating this evening. The purpose of my evening is now framed by a greater purpose.

The first Christmas that my family spent in our new house holds a place in my heart. When I was ten years old, my parents moved from the 'burbs in Southwestern Ontario, to the shores of a lake in the middle nowhere New Brunswick. There they constructed a traditional log house - made with massive logs. This was not the sort of place where the exterior was a mere facade. The inside was open concept, cathedral ceilings, and my room was in the loft. Dad and I most likely found our Christmas tree on one of this hunting trails. That year, he built my sister and I barbie houses. Mom made curtains, wallpapered the walls, got carpet samples and they also made the furniture. On boxing day there was a wholloping winter storm and the power was out for a good 18 hours. My folks heated the entire house with a woodstove at the time - so we had no fear of going cold. I remember playing all evening with my barbie house by candlelight.

I often wonder what sort of memories my kids will have of Christmas.

I hope that your Christmas/holiday/Commericalist trap is as warm and lovely as the holidays that I cherish.

p.s. Getting a picture of the three of them is like photographing a lightning storm. I have to hope that my finger corresponds to the exact moment when they all smile. In this picture, Harry has discovered that Aidan went poo. So, there are no second chances with this shot. Note the Orange Pants.