Tuesday, January 25, 2011


I wrote this back in December, but never finished it. As I reread it today, even though its a little belated and not as thorough as I intended, I am still posting it, more to keep the memory than anything else.

Holiday traditions have come and gone in my family. But no matter if they lasted two years or 10, they have made a lasting impression on me and the way I celebrate the holidays:
Present Scavenger Hunt
Christmas morning at my other grandparents house- with all 7 cousins (each one year apart in sequential order) sitting on one gold velvet couch open stocking presents from matching stockings with ET on them (mine now hangs on my banister)
Listening to Christmas Revels, alternating with Secret Garden Sound track, while Eating clementines and writing Christmas cards
Going Christmas Shopping with Tai the day after break in Fanieul Hall
Christmas Stroll in Nantucket

Growing up we never had a real Christmas tree. That's not to say we never had a tree. In my early years (0-4? 5 maybe) we had a small silver tree that sat on a table. The trunk was made of cardboard and had holes to stick in the branches. Once that tree retired to holiday heaven, it took a couple of years to find a proper replacement. A large tree wasn't a great option in our Somerville house, but we (and by we, I mean me) still wanted some way to make the house festive. While our Somerville house was too small for a tree, it did have some great pillars separating the living and dining rooms. So began the tradition of evergreen boughs to spiral up one pillar, across the top and down the second pillar. This was quite an engineering feat, as it was made of real evergreen branches attached with string, and not one long pliable piece of greenery. There was nailing and tacking and stringing into place- but eventually it would be up and gorgeous with white lights and a view of select ornaments (most of which sit on my tree today).

Friday, January 21, 2011

Freak Accident

Freaky things happen to my husband. For those who have known him, you know that weird things gravitate to him at an alarming rate. Technology stops working for him, but magically revives when someone else tries. Items fall or break seemingly just when he looks at them. Those who know my husband have likely heard the dirt muffin story, or the splinter up the fingernail while skiing story. I have heard these stories, amongst others, and have been warned of his "curse", that it would inevitably transfer to me. But last night, I saw it in action.
We are sitting on the coach, watching The Office, when SHM gets up to get some water. He yells in pain. By simply stepping down, he has somehow managed to get a massive splinter lodged into the ball of his foot. Something else you should know about him to complete this story: He is incredibly ticklish. Not just a little, but unbelievably ticklish, particularly on his feet. So perhaps you can imagine the trouble it was for me just to hold his foot to assess the damage. Most splinters come out with tweezers. This one was a good 3 millimeters under the skin. You could see the shadowy form- about half a centimeter long sitting nicely under the ball. Off to the ER we go. We arrive at 10:15pm. By 12:15am we are in with the doctor. Poor SHM, not for the pain of pulling out the splinter, but for the immense concentration and effort it took for him not to flail about and kick the doctor in the face as she removed it.
All we can do is laugh, including the doctor, at the ridiculousness of the whole scene. We walked out at about 12:40, giggling with relief that splinter was out. Just another freak accident in the life of my husband.