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A quiet, merry Christmas
Dec. 25th, 2005 08:12 pm...aside from the lights outside shutting themselves off every half an hour for some strange reason. My folks and I went to the noon Latin Mass at Holy Trinity; we ended up taking a weird wrong exit on the expressway, and ended up having to take the "scenic" route through some less-than-pleasant but not completely horrible parts of Southie (ie. South Boston). It wasn't such a bad wrong turn: we drove past a storage facility housed in an old shoe factory building, and someone had decorated the loading dock of the place with tinsel garlands and colored lights, with a three-foot fake Christmas tree all decorated, tied on top of a post supporting part of the chain link fence that surrounded the place. Very interesting sight in amongst all the urban scruffiness.
When we came home, after lunch (soup and English muffins), we opened today's gifts to each other (I think I recently described my family's unusual custom of opening our Christmas gifts, one a day till Epiphany). Today's gift from my mom was a book of inspirationally funny quotes and stories, which I could use when I hit one of my really low spots, so it qualifies as one of Dylan Thomas's "useful presents" and "useless presents". If you've never read his wonderful "A Child's Christmas in Wales", there's this great part where he sorts Christmas presents into "useful presents" -- like socks or clothes or winter hats ("balaclavas made by head-shrinking tribes", if I remember it right)-- and "useless presents" -- like candy or toys ("a celluloid duck that when pressed emitted a mewing moo, such as an ambitious cat might make when trying to imitate a cow"). Another useful present: a bottle of "Brilliant Brunette" shampoo in my stocking as well as some sensitive-skin soap, which I wanted and needed.
For dinner, we had a baked spiral-cut ham: when my mother took it out of the oven, it had unfolded itself in the baking process, so that it looked something like the open mouth of a yawning hippopotamus. Said my mother, "Why does it look weird?" Said my dad, "They do that sometimes."
Perhaps the best present today, besides being able to go to Mass at Holy Trinity: my buddy Mark called. He told me that he's aiming to come home sometime after New Year's Day. I hope he makes it. I miss him dearly.
When we came home, after lunch (soup and English muffins), we opened today's gifts to each other (I think I recently described my family's unusual custom of opening our Christmas gifts, one a day till Epiphany). Today's gift from my mom was a book of inspirationally funny quotes and stories, which I could use when I hit one of my really low spots, so it qualifies as one of Dylan Thomas's "useful presents" and "useless presents". If you've never read his wonderful "A Child's Christmas in Wales", there's this great part where he sorts Christmas presents into "useful presents" -- like socks or clothes or winter hats ("balaclavas made by head-shrinking tribes", if I remember it right)-- and "useless presents" -- like candy or toys ("a celluloid duck that when pressed emitted a mewing moo, such as an ambitious cat might make when trying to imitate a cow"). Another useful present: a bottle of "Brilliant Brunette" shampoo in my stocking as well as some sensitive-skin soap, which I wanted and needed.
For dinner, we had a baked spiral-cut ham: when my mother took it out of the oven, it had unfolded itself in the baking process, so that it looked something like the open mouth of a yawning hippopotamus. Said my mother, "Why does it look weird?" Said my dad, "They do that sometimes."
Perhaps the best present today, besides being able to go to Mass at Holy Trinity: my buddy Mark called. He told me that he's aiming to come home sometime after New Year's Day. I hope he makes it. I miss him dearly.
