getting through thanksgiving
In my mom's house, Thanksgiving is a day of celebrating family, friends, food.
That's on the surface.
In reality, it is simply the day that you can start playing Christmas music.
The Carpenters, Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Peggy Lee, the Chipmunks.
We don't even wait for Black Friday to fire up the tunes.
Digging into turkey, the stuffing, second helpings of mashed potatoes and gravy, lulls inserted into the conversation as mouthfuls of canned sour cranberry jelly are devoured, Bing or Frank filling in the blanks from the Direct TV Holiday music feed that will be on all of the waking day (and parts of the nod off on the couch night) for the next four tinsel covered and fir flavored candle scented weeks.
My mom finds Christmas music soothing.
It makes me think of a blazing fire in the fireplace on a warm San Diego December day, our family in matching pajamas, of my place by the mantle where I open my presents, Kristen wrapping her own presents so she will have more than anyone else.
The music makes me want to come home.
I waddle over to the couch, cats racing and hissing around my feet, plop down and close my tryptophan shuttered eyes.
Si-a-lent night...ho-o-ly night....
That's on the surface.
In reality, it is simply the day that you can start playing Christmas music.
The Carpenters, Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Peggy Lee, the Chipmunks.
We don't even wait for Black Friday to fire up the tunes.
Digging into turkey, the stuffing, second helpings of mashed potatoes and gravy, lulls inserted into the conversation as mouthfuls of canned sour cranberry jelly are devoured, Bing or Frank filling in the blanks from the Direct TV Holiday music feed that will be on all of the waking day (and parts of the nod off on the couch night) for the next four tinsel covered and fir flavored candle scented weeks.
My mom finds Christmas music soothing.
It makes me think of a blazing fire in the fireplace on a warm San Diego December day, our family in matching pajamas, of my place by the mantle where I open my presents, Kristen wrapping her own presents so she will have more than anyone else.
The music makes me want to come home.
I waddle over to the couch, cats racing and hissing around my feet, plop down and close my tryptophan shuttered eyes.
Si-a-lent night...ho-o-ly night....
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