Chestnuts roasting?

First of all, there's the weather. When you can wear shorts in December, it's hard to get psyched about Christmas. The house is decorated within an inch of its life, as always. I've not only gotten used to this annual quirk in my wife's personality, I actually like it. Never in this lifetime or any other would I subject my living space to this amount of seasonal display, if I were on my own. There have been years when my tree was a string of lights mounted on the wall in the shape of a 5-year-old's Christmas tree drawing. Hey, it worked and even looked kind of artsy. I'm fortunate that Jill has developed tolerance for my grinchiness, which is really just laziness. She continues to let me top the tree with a Barbie doll.

We got our family Christmas present unexpectedly this week in the form of a little five pound furry puppy that our neighbors had rescued from an unsuitable home, but couldn't keep. They've been subjected to the exhuberent barking of our other dogs long enough to know that we're suckers for strays and rescues, so little Nana Lu has come to occupy a very large playpen in the living room and is worming her way into our hearts. Since there as been very little resistance from the existing 4-legged family members, 2 dogs and 2 cats, we're taking it as a sign that this was meant to be. Tomorrow she'll make her first trip to the vet and maybe we'll get a clue about her breed mix so we can be prepared for what's likely to come.

Everybody has their stories about holidays. When you hang out with a bunch of recovering drunks and addicts, you hear a lot of tales of woe, especially around the holidays. And that's to be expected. It's a family disease, and this time of year, when family with a capital F is being depicted in the media as perfection itself, it can be difficult. Most of us didn't grow up on Walton Mountain, after all.

But for those of us who did have pretty decent families, it can also be hard. This is the first year that neither of my parents will be with us. Three of the four kids in my family of origin live here, and we'll all be together, but I'm the only one married, all of our kids except one don't live here, so it will still be small. We go visit Mom in the Cottage, but she doesn't really know us and doesn't understand why we're there. I'll get to see my own grown kids after Christmas, which is a rare treat. I'm focused on that more than the actual day of the 25th which will be so different this year, but still laden with familiar ritual.

Maybe this is why it's good to get a puppy. She's a new life, she represents the future. She makes me get up and go outside every hour or two, since I'm housebreaking her. Her jealous big brother needs his play time too, so I romp with him. Playing with dogs, bringing up babies, reading new information on the internet about dog training, all can keep me from sliding into those tales of woe.

And really, there's nothing woeful going on. It's life continuing to move forward, and taking us all with it.