In the same spirit that I enjoyed the panic right before Homecoming weekend, when I had a house full of my family, and needed to unpack, clean, and decorate my house, we are at it again. There will be at least a dozen family members coming over for Christmas dinner this year, and if I am lucky and schedules and weather work in our favor, even an overnight guest. We are unpacking more boxes, and making more decorating decisions in anticipation of the holiday dinner party. We've put a few more nails in the walls, and hung up "art" pieces that haven't been displayed in years. (Bull horns from a truck stop outside Amarillo count as art, right? Especially with a couple CU ball caps dangling on each side, to hide the fact that, like most of us, Bovine Americans are not symmetrical.) With every painting I hang on the walls, with every little piece that gets put in place, this house feels more and more permanent. It feels like home. It isn't necessarily coming together exactly as I imagined it would when I bought it, but that's totally fine by me. It feels more organic, more like a family effort, as little surprises happen, and the rooms reveal themselves instead of me trying to force them to look a certain way. The edges are softer now, the spaces more cozy, and somehow it is all warmer, even as the temperatures stay low outside (and near this window that will be replaced in a couple weeks).
I am both excited and worn out by the holidays this year. I'm far more active than I've been in several years, for decorating, shopping, and socializing. I'm still feeling the conflict between wanting to give gifts to my family and being overwhelmed by the nauseating ads that conflate consumer goods with love (directly and explicitly). I don't need to "win Christmas" by spending the most money. I have some fun gifts to hand out, but just a few. That's plenty for us. All of us, the whole family, we are keenly aware of how much stuff we have accumulated over the years, even though we made a point of thinning out our belongings every two to four years when we moved. Yes, it is really fun to open brightly wrapped packages on Christmas morning. I could do it for hours, and enjoy it the whole time. But then at the end, what would I do with all that stuff?
Hm. I had a terrible idea as I wrote the end of that last paragraph. What if Mr S-P takes me at my word, and just covers all of these large cardboard boxes with gift wrap, to force me to open and sort the stuff we moved here with? Nobody suggest that to him, okay? He's just mean enough to do it, and I know he's tired of me finding excuses every day not to open every box in the garage. That is not how I want to spend my holidays.
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