It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

                  It's Friday evening, December 22. By Christmas Day, all decorations should be in place, all baking done, and the house as spotless as I can make it, given the ubiquitous presence of Greye-the-cat, and Billy-the-grandson, whose room is off limits.

                Both china cabinets and the dining table are decorated, as well as the buffet. The living room chairs and sofas are still laden with plastic bins of decorations awaiting last minute attention. Mantel--done in red maroon and sliver. Piano--Christmas music retrieved from bench. Coffee table--that'll have to be the last surface to be “Yule-d.” Bathroom towels are in place, so that’s done. Mincemeat pie  aroma, cheese log waiting for caramel coating, almond-barked pretzels tinned. Fudge on schedule for tomorrow.

              But I CAN’T FIND the BABY JESUS! I had him last year! Four bins of Christmas stuff, but no BABY JESUS. Surely there's another sack or box in the attic. SURELY.

              Using gourds, huge pine cones and large, gaudy ornaments, I filled a large basket for the outside-part of the window AC.

                I hung a Christmas-themed porch flag, and set up a wooden creche of Billy’s –with his permission—on the shelf of my china hutch.

             Oh, and after tripping and face-planting into the tree and table, I had to discard the poor table and find a sturdy oak TV table as a substitute. I'll likely have a black eye Sunday at church. What kind of story can I make up to explain it???

            But now, I MUST find Baby Jesus!

               

Ah! I found BABY JESUS! All is well. Merry Christmas, and thanks to all who read this blog.

c 2017, Pat Laster dba lovepat press