Merry Christmas

     So, today was the first time I uttered that phrase since last December 18th, to be exact.  

 "Merry Christmas".

And I could mean it.  Maybe not so much for me, but at least for others.  And maybe, just maybe, a little for me.

     Tonight the kids and I went to one of the Christmas Eve services ..... something I didn't think I could do only a week ago.  But we did.  They all wanted to go and we went.  And it was good.  And I didn't cry.  Not once.  Almost, but not quite.

     And then we went out with friends for Chinese food.  Alas, much to our chagrin, the waiters did not come out and sing "Deck the Haws with Boughs of Haweey", as in "A Christmas Story".  We were a wee bit sad.  But glad to not have a duck's head chopped off at our table.

     Anyway, here we all are, sitting at home.  The girls and I are watching the final season of "Will and Grace", and drinking champagne.  We toasted Jesus and Jim, in that order.

I have to tell you, as a preface (although a late one), that "Will and Grace" kept us going last year at this time.  One of the girls brought all of the seasons that she had on our cruise.  And every single afternoon and evening, when we were too pooped to leave the cabin, I was having them pop one into the computer.  We needed to laugh.  I needed to laugh.  I think "Will and Grace" helped save us, at the time.  Or at least helped save me.  It's mindless.  It's funny.  It makes me laugh.  And I needed to laugh but could not on my own.  

So tonight we are continuing the tradition of laughing.

Jim hated that show.  Very much.  So I never really watched it while he was alive ..... or at least, not in his presence.  So he may be spinning up there, but too damn bad.  It makes me laugh.  And anything that makes me, and my children, laugh, is not a bad thing.

     Speaking of things that make me laugh, the animals did a good job today.

            Gabby, still thinking she's a lap-dog, decided to climb up and sit with me:





     She may have punctured several internal organs.  I'll keep you posted.

     Here's where Colby and Rigby escape to when Miley comes near.  I used to squirt them heavily with the water bottle when they'd climb up there, but not now.  Bless their hearts, it's the only place of safety to which they can escape.  Very, very high.

    And this, my poor blog readers, was supposed to be a very, very funny picture, but Son #2 didn't turn off the flash so it didn't come out.  But here's what it was ..... it was a picture of the window over the kitchen sink (which you can partly see two pictures above).  Daughter #1 and I were hanging out in the family room when she looked up, squinted her eyes and said, "Is that one of our cats outside that window?"  I followed her gaze, and there indeed, was a very fuzzy, wet-looking black cat, sitting on the window sill, in the pouring rain.  I asked Daughter #2, who was near the window....."Is that Rigby?!".  And sure enough, yes it was.  Rigby was looking pathetically in the window .... kind of like Scrooge looking in on Christmas Past.  He seemed to be saying, "Please, for the love of all that is holy in this Christmas season, please let me in!".  It was totally pathetic.  So Son #2 grabbed the camera and Daughter #3 went to the front door.  All she had to do was say his name and he was instantly off of the window sill and through the front door.  All soaking wet, furry, 5 pounds of him!  So imagine him looking very pathetically through the kitchen window when you look at this black picture:

Then there's this video, which only gives you a glimpse of what goes on in this house, all day-- every day.  These two dogs rarely stop chasing each other and driving me nuts.  After about an hour of it this morning, while everyone else was still in bed, I grabbed the camera and caught the last few minutes before they collapsed in exhaustion.  They are going at it again as I type this blog entry.  They exhaust me.

     So there you go, our Christmas Eve.  It could be worse.  It could be better.

It is what it is.  I miss him.  I wish he were here.  I'd give anything to wake up out of this nightmare, but that is not to be. 

 This.  Is.  My.  Life.

And I'm still here.

So, Merry Christmas to all of you.  To those I know and love, to those I don't know and love, to those I have yet to meet and will love.  

I hope that you all have a Christmas filled with true Joy and Peace.  

And that you hug your spouses a wee bit tighter than you did last year.  And your children.  Take the Season one day at a time.

One breath at a time.

We will.