Lots of details about this holiday felt like a good old-fashioned Oklahoma Christmas for me, most prominently how warm and sunny it was on the day of Christmas. It was 54 degrees as we drove the mile from our house to the kids', at about 2 in the afternoon. The man was griping about it, but I reminded him where I spent my formative years. This was perfectly average holiday weather, according to those standards. For a week, my diet has been almost entirely Chex mix-based, which also matches those late 70s/early 80s holidays exactly. The main thing that ruins it for me is that I failed to listen to, find on the internet, or at least sing in the shower THE JINGLE. Anyone who watched local television stations in Oklahoma in the last 50 years knows what I'm talking about. The same ad for the BC Clark jewelry store that has run since Santa was still covering random grays with Grecian Formula. And for the first time in decades, I forgot about it until the Mr said, "You know what I haven't heard from you this year?" To be fair, yesterday I did consider for a quick second wearing my sweatshirt with the lyrics to the jingle printed on the back. But just as quickly I decided not to, and I didn't even hum the tune when the thought crossed my mind. Bro, do you even Okie anymore?
I ought to know the true origin of Boxing Day by this point in my life. I'm sure it has been spoken in my presence once or twice over the years. But the knowledge just didn't stick, and I don't have the motivation to research it while blogging. I choose to apply the term how it most fits our experience: as un-boxing the stuff we got yesterday, and hauling off cardboard to the recycling center. Then I needed to do a major rearranging to fit the new kitchen appliance (toaster oven/air fryer/dehydrator) into my scheme. It turned into a mission to pull the work table out, clean the tray under the coffee bar, scrub dust off the collection of appliances on and under the work table, apply a heavy coat of butcher block conditioner, and hunt down a multi-outlet adapter, before reordering the top row. A collection of bills and baby accessories had piled up on one end, and far too many mugs and things were collecting dust on the microwave. To set out one new toy cost me almost six hours of cleaning, mopping, sorting, and recycling (with short rests interspersed). But honestly, it was worth it. I've completed five big decluttering tasks in the last week. There are two little ones and one gargantuan one left, and if I get even the small ones done, I will go into the new year feeling amazing.
One of the small projects that has been ignored hopelessly for far too long is to clean the accumulated debris off the piano. It has been a one step forward, two steps back dance with that thing. But lately it has gained attention. Last week the Mr opened it up and spent an evening trying to remember the songs he used to play in his college days. Then tonight he sat down with the baby and encouraged her to learn to make noise. We aren't sure she has figured out the cause and effect of her hands on keys making sounds come out of the big box. She's still young for that logic yet. But we will offer it to her again and again, until she lets us know whether she enjoys it. I sure hope she takes to it.
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