Nollaig Cridheil

Happy Christmas, if you celebrate it (and a fine day regardless, if you don’t). It’s not one of my favorite holidays, partially because of its position as a predictable annual minefield in my turbulent past, as well as for my extreme disgust at its insane marketing and consumerism.  But, it does cause people to gather, and that is good. I am grateful that we will have, as always, a warm, laid-back December 25 with Paul’s family tomorrow. (And I am truly fond of the little white lights I always put up in the house for the season. I leave them up to turn on again from January 31 thru February 2).

Years ago, when I lived alone in Pilsen, I used to go down Halsted street to a funky, unheated, shack-like tire-patching shop every year on December 24, and buy the most forlorn-looking of the little deformed, mutilated trees they always had for sale for a dollar; rejects, probably, from some fancy holiday lot.  The warped little tree always gave me the same lovely sharp crisp smell as any of its beautifully-shaped sacrificial conifer sisters, and did so with quite a bit of personality. I miss that. Even more, I miss two dear old friends who used to come in this season to stay for a week or so. Ah well: perhaps it’s time to develop some new traditions, along with everything else that’s currently in flux.

Last night, I had The Nightmare Before Christmas (though the dream itself had nothing to do with any holidays, and I wasn’t myself as I am in this life in it).  I was up quite late and decided to sleep in the guest room so as not to disturb Paul.  Nevertheless, at about four-thirty, I woke him from two rooms away, yelling at the top of my lungs in simultaneous rage and fear.  When he woke me, my heart was pounding at an alarming rate. In the dream, whoever I was was mortally threatened, and somehow being held powerless, completely paralyzed.  All I could use was my voice. I did. I am surprised I didn’t also wake the neighbors.  I haven’t done something like that in years and years and years.

I have no idea what caused it, but after a residually odd-feeling early morning, I spent today enjoyably in the studio, pulling sheets for gifts, and I’m counting on having a much more peaceful night tonight. I think perhaps the last of the best whisky is in order, to ensure that.

I wish you and yours peace, warmth, laughter and zero stress!

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