Christmas. Not my favorite. Never has been. Never will be. And for a while there… well, it appalled me.
When we adopted Rosemary in June 2014, it became clear in only a few days that she was one “crazy cat.” As the winter holiday approached, I cautioned that a tree might throw our somewhat calmed kitty back into a frenzy. My daughters reluctantly agreed, and I? Well, I thanked the universe for my offbeat new pet.
In the intervening 4.5 years, Rosemary has mellowed, so I guess I wasn’t surprised when my older daughter gently pined for a little tree this year. I’ve never been able to resist trying to grant my children’s wishes, which are usually so modest and doable; I love making them smile. So, about the tree in my house, I will say this: It made her happy, and when it comes down tomorrow morning, it will make me happy, too.
We visit the beautiful Lincoln Park Conservatory at least once a year, and for the past few years it seems that we have visited over our winter break. This time, we went before seeing A Q Brothers’ Christmas Carol at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater, a holiday show we’ve seen all but one winter holiday since 2013.
Yes, announcing my “Read from the shelves” challenge a month before I know I will receive a dozen or more new books seems like cheating. But I always receive a dozen or more new books over the winter holiday, so no foul.
From Lily King’s 2014 novel, Euphoria:
You don’t realize how language actually interferes with communication until you don’t have it, how it gets in the way like an overdominant sense. You have to pay more attention to everything else when you can’t understand the words. Once comprehension comes, so much else falls away. You then rely on their words, and words aren’t always the most reliable thing.
I recognized the symptoms because it happened last week with John Carreyrou’s Bad Blood, so in addition to the chores and load of laundry, I walked two miles and practiced my solo piece before allowing myself to return to this riveting novel.