Christmas Full

Church, dinner, a warning from Dad:

Not too early,

sleep late!

 

Footsteps, giggles, very loud whispers ...

three boys in our room.

Early, Christmas morning.

 

Boxes, ribbons, papers, bags,

tags, tabs, bows, cards.

Everywhere.

 

Building, sorting, playing, listening.

Happy boys,

busy boys.

 

Family, friends, lots of food.

Rainy outside,

sunny within.

 

Quiet evening talking, sharing,

grateful, thankful.

Christmas full.

 

*from the files of very bad poetry by Bia

The Radio

We always referred to it as Grandpa Walton's radio because it looked just like the one in the television series: dark brown and bulky, with two creaking knobs as big as a child's fist. My father kept it in the garage to listen to when doing carpentry work. Every once in a while I would try to convince him to allow me to move the radio into my room, but the radio was his special possession, and the garage his special territory, so the radio remained where it was.

Every Christmas Eve my father would bring the radio into the house. Sitting by the glow of the Christmas tree lights, we would all take turns turning the knobs, trying to pick up international stations playing carols in different languages. The sound was scratchy, but that just added to the magic. One year we even picked up Vatican Radio and listened to the Pope's Christmas message.

Then, early one December, my father had a heart attack.

What was normally a joyous season for us, now became frightening and unsure. As we sat in the waiting room and watched bustling nurses in Santa hats, we struggled to find hope. There was no infant Jesus lying in a manger, only my father in a hospital bed; there was no bright Christmas star, only the blinking, beeping monitors hooked up to my father; there were no Christmas parties or celebrations, only quiet prayers whispered again and again.

But hope's flower began to blossom, one petal at a time. My father came through surgery, woke up, grew stronger, and was finally released to come home one week before Christmas.

When we gathered together that Christmas Eve we ignored the presents piled under the tree in light of the beautful gift of my father sitting in his recliner. That year, we didn't just listen to Christmas carols, we sang them, every word coming straight from the heart.

And that night my father gave me, newly polished, dusted, repaired, and wrapped with a bright red ribbon . . . Grandpa Walton's radio.



*re-post from 2007

Coming up with a perfect answer (and it's not what you think!)

"Mom," asks our little guy. "How do you know if an elf is a boy or a girl?"

I stop what I'm doing. How do I answer this? There are a lot of different directions I can go, but which one? I'm thinking fast, but apparently not fast enough.

"I know!" he says. "You have to look under his ..."

Allow me to interrupt for a moment. Can I just tell you I was a tad apprehensive about what he was going to say? But here, let's resume the conversation.

"You have to look under his HAT!" he says triumphantly. "A lot of girls hide their ponytails under their hat, so if you see a ponytail then it's a girl elf!"

As far as I'm concerned, that is the most perfect answer.

Christmas Words of Wisdom

In response to yesterday's post, here are words from my very wise Zia Tiziana (translated from Italian) ...

I think about all the wars that are going on right now in which men, women and children are being killed in the name of religious extremism and of a God who, instead, wants love, peace and brotherhood.
 
The biggest mistake we make is to believe we are better than others and to close a door to those who don't think as we do.

John Paul II always said "Open your hearts", and with our hearts we need to open all those closed doors that distance us from others. No, the Grinch can't steal Christmas because Christmas is love and love can't be taken ... it can only be given.
 

Life Lately: Orange You Glad it's Christmas?... in 7 quick takes

 

1. Orange reminds me of clemenines, and clementines remind me of wintertime and Christmas.

2. Subconsciously, I must like orange because here is what my daily breakfast looks like: cappuccino, served in an orange, Guzzini mug; ciabatta toast with apricot jam; Fage yougurt, peach flavored; and everything assembled on an orange tray (better for carrying everything over to the computer).

 

3. I'm making this dessert when we celebrate Christmas with my family this weekend ...

4. And hosting a Hot Chocolate Bar, complete with these cute marshmallows (via Pinterest). Our neighborhood is decorating with luminaries Saturday evening, so my parents and my sister and her family are coming over for a cold, nighttime walk to be followed by hot chocolate and  sitting around a roaring fireplace.

5. Tonight: movie night.

 

 

6. Have you ever come across something in a store so inherently dumb, so ridiculous that you buy the thing? Case in point, meet Alredo. We purchased Alfredo a couple of years ago. Alfredo spins around on top of a plate of spaghetti; the idea of the game is to use the fork catapaults and launch spaghetti and meatballs onto his hat, mustache, tray or apron which are all made of velcro.

 

The thing is, whenever we pull out this game (as we did Thanksgiving week) it doesn't take long for everyone to ignore Alfredo and the fork catapaults and just start launching spaghetti and meatballs willy nilly ... at one another. 

 

 

 

 

 

7. Orange you in need of a good Christmas joke?

 

 

 

*now go visit Conversion Diary for some more quick takes!

 

The things Nonna says ... ai, ai, ai

 

 

So, we're sitting around the dinner table on a Sunday talking about this and that. We're at my parents' house, which means Nonna is running back and forth to the kitchen, bringing in plates of food and telling everyone to mangia, mangia! The topic shifts to Nicholas, who is in the middle of college applications.

Nonna bustles in.

"Who are you going to sleep with in college?" Nonna asks Nicholas, as she grabs a plate and heads back to the kitchen.

We all freeze. No one says anything. At all. Then someone giggles, and before you know it we're all giggling because, really, what else can you do with such a question?

And Nonno -- who has been married to Nonna for a long, long time -- clarifies things.

"Uh, Nonna? You might want to watch your word choice," he calls. Then he looks at Nicholas. "She really wants to know who is going to be your roommate in college."

Oh! Roommate. Right.

Whew.

The many faces of the flu

 

1. Tissue box ... one in every room.

 

 

2. The Arsenal (not pictured, Mr. Bubbles).



 

 

3. About a month ago I happened to see the Dr. Oz show and he highly recommended this (less than $20 at Walgreens). It definitely works. Last night, I added a tsp. of Vicks VapoRub to the water (instructions didn't say I could, but I did it anyway). Let me just say it can clear air passages all the way to your toes.

 

 

 

4. Star Wars Monopoly ... again and again.

 

 

 

5. Make up school work.

Timothy took one look at all this ...

 

 

and ended up here.