It’s the 11th of December … ack! … and it might as well be July for all the festive, criscringle, deck-dos-halls-itis I don’t have even a touch of.
Just the thought of digging out my three-foot-tall, rotating, fake Christmas tree sends my mood south and pins me to my office chair while visions of “later, maybe” dance in my head.
With the month starting off with a nasty cow canning my ass from my blog job, refusing to give any reason whatsoever, and then scurrying into her dim little hidey-hole to keep from having to account for her actions, then learning that my darling of a foster son will soon be moving far beyond any observable distance, my mood isn’t exactly in sync with any jingling bells on bob tails ringing.
(And, yes, I’m still bitter and angry over the treatment I got from Brandy and her masters at Adoption.com. If you miss reading me there … or if you’d simply like to annoy her … here’s an email address where you can mention my name, and call her a few if you like: 4802865086@cingularme.com)
Not that I have really been overcome with Christmas cheer since moving to the tropics; temperatures in the upper 80s just aren’t conducive to conjuring a feeling of walking in a winter wonderland.
It’s amazingly hard to build happy holiday traditions and memories in this heat and glaring sunshine for Sam and Cj … I have to accept that their ho-ho-hos will be all about barefoot Santas and tinsel on coconut trees … when the holiday is so loaded with me missing my other kids and the rest of my family.
I can almost capture the smell of freshly cut pine, my mother’s kitchen and the smoky frigid air of the Northern California December … well, right up until the time that I need to crank up the aircon in my office to keep the sweat pouring from my fingers from freezing up my laptop.
Like most holidays in Seychelles, for a big part of the population this one is about drinking to excess and hanging around. Attempts at wrangling up Christmas spirit are weak, at best, and I can’t help but think I’d handle the holiday a bit better with fewer stabs at decking the halls. (See photos.)
I have twelve days to pump myself up for the holiday, but quite a few less to begin, middle and finish the prep that needs doing.
Yikes! What am I doing sitting here kvetching. I need to get in gear, order some gifts for family in the US, break out the tree, find some wrapping paper somewhere on this island, put together a menu for our obligatory Christmas Eve open house, and on and on and on.
This will be a great time for Sam and Cj, and I will enjoy the holiday through their eyes. I will, however, still be glad when it’s over.
Sam with the village Christmas decor … sigh
A local shop in full Christmas mode. Yep. That’s it. Isn’t the razor wire a nice touch?
A collection of my short stories:
I'm in this one, too ...
And I'm in here, as well ...
Paradise Preoccupied 
I wonder if your adult daughter has learned to play more than the first two measures of “The First Noel”. It’s been 32 years. Maybe she gave up? I must ask her.
I’ve not had a chance to hear even that pitiful offering of carol in so long that it would sound like the full Mormon Tabernacle Choir about now.
Why don’t you drop whatever you’re doing and fly over to spend Christmas with your dear old Ma? I’ll take you on a tour of the decorations …
Oh, you’ve seen the blog, so you’ve seen them already.
Wish I could get over there for the yulish tide. The decorations have inspired me to break out the plastic razor wire. It doesn’t draw much blood, but sure does have that holiday don’t-come-in/there’s-no-escape look to it. Deck the railings.
Love you so much.
Can you see Grandma hanging that stuff one strand at a time? Love you, too!
S, gotta laugh at that pitiful Santa in that tropical clime….I’ll tell you what. You take it easy from all the bs you’ve been through lately and I’ll hang a couple extra lights in your name. Deal?
That’s a deal, Tisha!
Oh, dear Sandra…
Teddy and I decorated our tree in Froot Loop garlands, Rice Krispie treat packages and peppermint Tootsie Pops this year. We received about 3 glorious inches of snow last night and it continues to fall. The thunder of the snow plow woke me this morning – what a great way to wake up!
I wish I could bundle some of the holiday cheer I’m overflowing with and send it to you.
Personally, I like the Seychellian take on Xmas, but then I’m a Jew.
Here in our quaint little town in the midwest I’m still explaining Hanukah to people; at the same time we only light candles some nights.
As I get older the hooplah gets more tedious so Ella will grow up being deprived and maybe do huge holidays herself.
Love ya Sandra,
L.
I shudder to think what Froot Loops would like like after a couple of weeks hanging around in the heat and humidity of Seychelles. Good thing they’re not an option. Send the snow, though, and the cheer.
And …
I know ONE Jew in Seychelles, and I’m pretty sure he’s the only one, so you and Ella coming here for the holiday some year could make a few of us happy. (Have menorah, will travel?)
LOL! Yeah, the heat and humidity would really ruin the effect of the edible Christmas tree. In the dry cold of Denver though – not a problem!
I actually have a travelling menorah!!!!!!!!!!!!
L.
L.,
Of course you do! You’re the best beryeh I know of!