Journal of a Sabbatical

December 24, 1998

on the eve

The Newt Gingrich catnip doll is still standing on its head at the bottom of the stairs.

I guess we have heat. It's 80 degrees in the sick room. Bonnie had recruited me to do the morning shift today because we were going to be shorthanded. Apparently lots of people got the word that we were shorthanded, because we had plenty of volunteers today. More folks than yesterday. A new volunteer, a kid named Chelsea, just started. She's washing the dishes so we decide to do an assembly line wash and dry thing. She's happier drying since she doesn't have to get bleach on her. The rubber gloves for washing dishes are for people with hands the size of gorillas or something. I end up not using them half the time because they're so big it's awkward. Hence my skin smells of bleach.

Trevor is beating up other cats. Goldie is reveling in being out of the sick room. Jaguar is purring. With the extra help, we got everything done by 11:00. I couldn't believe it. I used up the last of the dishwashing liquid and forgot to put a note to that effect in the log book. Oops. I hope Antonia is not too upset with me tomorrow morning.

And the presents are wrapped except for the cache of 8 catnip toys (4 of the fishes and 4 of the squares) for Sable and the Seven Siamese. I stored them in the car so Wilbur couldn't get at them. I'll wrap them tomorrow morning in the parking lot.

That just leaves showering, changing, getting lunch, and picking Nancy up at the bus station before decorating the tree at La Madre's house. We're part of that ever-shrinking minority of families who decorate the tree on Christmas Eve and keep it up until Epiphany. When my Dad was alive we used to burn the tree on Epiphany but I think that's illegal now. Dad had the idea that this was some Irish custom. Maybe the ancient Druids burned a fir tree or something. Anyway, the tree doesn't go up until Christmas Eve and doesn't come down until Epiphany and great ceremony is always involved.

Nobody actually coordinates gathering on Christmas Eve for this but it just sort of happens. There are several unwritten rules that have developed over the years. The obvious one is the lights go on first, then the ornaments, then any tinsel-like things. Not so obvious is that Thomas gets final say over all ornament placements, and the "Dutch Lady" goes on last. I don't know how this particular ornament got to be called the "Dutch Lady" since it's not from the Netherlands. I think it may be German. It was part of a cache of ornaments we got from the woman my folks bought the house from. She had quite a collection of really old glass ornaments, but of course the provenance was undocumented. Many have been broken since, but the little rosy-cheeked "Dutch Lady" goes on forever. All the ornaments have stories, some of which get told every Christmas Eve.

And then there's the nativity sets. All zillion of them must be set up with the wise men well to the east of the manger and of course no babe in the manger 'til morning. Bobby brought a new one from Hungary this year, so it doesn't have a traditional spot yet.

When Thomas arrives, he moves the ornaments I've already hung. When Mom comes home from Mass, she moves the nativities Thomas and Bobby have set up. Finally, it's all done, the "Dutch Lady" is placed in her traditional spot, and it's not even midnight when we go home and put on the Pogues' If I Should Fall From Grace with God CD.