There is a little madness simmering in the Wilde household. It is touching on boiling point but not at full steam yet.
I woke up yesterday morning and thought, why not? So, I hooked my AVBOB trailer to my Goanywherevehicle and set off for the stables. There, I loaded 18 plastic trunks filled with Christmas decorations and hauled them home. Dad was told he couldn’t park in the garage for a few nights, and now they are all lined up, ready for the unpacking. There are a few more to come.
I must say I am a tad excited.
I have already alerted the residents in our street of the oncoming/incoming Christmas vibe this year. They are sort of used to me as I have been decorating our street for the past 14 years, every year. Christmas and Easter are my favorite times. I like sharing them with everybody, but this year is kinda special to me. Our children will be coming home to celebrate with us. I promised them they will be able to see Yellowbill Street from the air as they come in for landing, and I am up for the challenge!
The Christmas cake mixture has been stewing since August, and pretty soon, I am going to bake the first tester cake. Dad and I will sample it with our coffee in the morning, and he will suggest some tweaking. The second cake will undoubtedly go the same way, and that’s why I bake a lot of cake over Christmas. If you are in my good books, you might even get one…just saying. I am going to step that stepper in the gym, but cake I will eat.
The Christmas cake tradition comes from my Granny. A very grand lady who loved high-heeled shoes and pencil skirts, even though she had bunions on her bunions from her shoe folly. I have her recipe, and I follow it religiously with a little help from Nigella. Standing in the kitchen, baking these cakes (but no high heels for me, I have gone the other way and religiously wear my CROCS), I can actually feel her presence, and this is how I keep her memory alive.
Then there is the Christmas tree. Well, there are a few trees, but the main tree is always erected in the lounge. I have trinkets collected from all over the world, special occasions, and little gifts from my godsons. The tree is 2 1/2 m tall, and it touches the roof. We have to bend the top over so we can fit the angel on top. Sometimes she bends over and hovers to the left or the right, and it has become a daily thing to straighten the angel. The little ornaments are hung with precision, and the pickle is always hung last according to tradition. The Christmas pickle is hidden on the tree, and the first one to find it will be blessed that Christmas, so tradition says. One year, I hid the pickle so well nobody could find it, not even me, and another year I packed it away so far I couldn’t find it, so that year we went without the pickle. The family was distraught, but true to form, I found it in January when I was packing the decor away. I had skipped a whole box of decorations that Christmas, so they had a holiday, and the pickle was amongst them.
I am excited to be reunited with my ornament friends that I haven’t seen for a while. Today is a day of unpacking treasured memories and enjoying the reunion.
Decorating the house, the street, and the plot takes a lot of time. This year, my little spay and neuter initiative has also been given a tree opportunity in our local shopping center. Talk about taking this to the next level, but I am up for the challenge. Watch this space.
Today is the day I open the Christmas boxes. I am very excited. Every year, I write a letter to myself and I put it in the last box of decorations that I take down and seal. On opening this box at the next Christmas round of ‘putting-up-the tree’ this letter congratulates me on making it another year and also reminds me that I should pack my Christmas lights away in a responsible manner when Christmas is done. The lights are my nemesis. If I won the lottery, I wouldn’t tell anybody, but there would be indications of my wealth. The first thing I would do is buy new lights every year. They come sealed in a packet, and they are not all ‘jimblejambled’ up. These things can make me lose my Christmas spirit quickly, saying a lot of bad words that make the dogs flee and my housekeeper pray under her breath.
Even before I read the note that I left myself in January this year as I was packing up, I can tell you that I am so grateful for family and the chance to celebrate with everybody being home. The nicest thing about all of this is that everybody wants to be home this Christmas; it’s not that everybody has to be home. Dad and I are here, waiting for the arrival of Keagen, Hannah, and Briony. Christmas is loading in the Wilde house…
