Monday, December 11, 2006

Holiday Shmoliday

I watched the movie Prancer last night. It was sweet and simple and made me bawl like a baby. Put me in a good Christmas mood. Haven't had that nice Christmas feeling in a while. Been too harried in the past. The holidays should be simple and sweet. I am blocking out all the selly selly buy buy stuff right now and it is much easier to appreciate. I believe in Santa.

I need to go on more dates.

I love painting.

3 comments:

Shannon said...

oh my goodness, i used to be obsessed with prancer! my parents bought me the prancer book one christmas-and THEN my dad was an extra in the movie Gettysburg, so i got to meet sam elliot (who was the main actor in prancer), and i had him sign my prancer book. all of the other grown-up ladies were swooning at him for his reindeer ways.

plushpussycat said...

The Christmas of 1940 we lived on a farm in the hard-scrapple part of Oklahoma that had so recently been hit by the dust storms. Poverty walked that land. Skinny women, old before thay had been young, worked twelve to fifteen hour days to keep their families together. My father had been stricken by polio in 1937, the year of my birth. He was fifty that year and never fully recovered. It was not a time to have a disabled husband. Especially not at Christmas. But my mother never really accepted that reality. She was young and high spirited and in our house hope lived. We three, against all odds!

I remember watching her from the safety of indoors returning from her trip over the hill to find a tree in our cedar grove. She advanced forth into the cloud of her own frozen breath pulling behind her the wonderful tree. Snow creaked under her feet with each step.

She and I made decorations from popcorn and cranberries and strung them on the still cold branches. My father sat watching. He played songs on his clarinet and my mother DANCED! She did the Charleston like nobody's business. I clapped and laughed, touched by the wonder of Christmas.

I got only one gift that year. One very special gift. For weeks, it turned out, long after I was asleep my mother had sat by lamplight sewing by hand a wonderful wardrobe for my favorite doll. Using scraps of rick-rack and ribbon, bits of an old coat, fur from the rim of an old hat, pieces of dress and pajama fabric she made a dozen fine outfits in the style of the times.

It was a blessed Christmas. In the afternoon my mother traced around my hand in cookie dough and, in bliss, finger by finger, I ate too many.

Martha Rich said...

Thank you for such wonderful comments!