I had a dream last night that I was back in Calgary, in a field with people from work and it was night time. We heard chants and voices growing in the distance, much like the sound of a protest group walking circles outside of an abortion clinic or the white house.
As these voices got louder, we could finally see a crowd of people moving towards us, they were all wearing big white T-shirts with the word ZEAL on the front in big black letters like those old WHAM! T-shirts from the 80s.
One person in the middle of the group was carrying a stick across his back that was wrapped in Christmas lights and they were somehow turned on. (hey, it was a dream, maybe the guy had a big battery pack or something.)
This Christmas light stick was supposed to represent their Christmas tree from last year, and it was their ancient custom to keep the tree from last years Christmas, then burn it the next year as part of their religious celebration. Originally, and in older times, apparently they would carry the actual burning Christmas tree, but the serious injuries that would always result in were no longer acceptable in todays society, so they settled with this stick with the lights wrapped around it.
Upon waking, it seems to me that that is a good idea. Keeping last years tree around for the full 12 months, and then in that death before life way, cremate the old tree before lighting up the new one.
I want a Christmas tree now. Maybe Ill decorate my place all christmasy like.
Anyways, as a kid, I always used to get SO excited for xmas. The expiry date on the milk carton from my morning bowl of Capn Crunch would always be the trigger to that. Sometime around mid December, that carton would finally have Dec 25 stamped on the side of that fin, and just seeing that date would mean that Christmas was really really close now, that would start that countdown of anxiety. Usually the last couple of days before Christmas, I could barely contain myself.
Grandma and Grandpa would usually show up first. They would always stop off in Stettler to pick up Great Grandma Wigley on the way to our place in Calgary. Theyd have pudgie, their snappy little terrier, and our two miniature poodles (Snoopy and Cindy) would just lose it when Pudgie got there. Theyd be running all over the house for about 45 minutes in some strange little dog party thing.
Mom would have the coffee on for Grandma and Grandpa, and theyd all sit in the living room upstairs with a big tray of all the Christmas baking Mom had been making for the last month, and Grandma would always bring a few icecream buckets full of her own mix of butter tarts (still the best butter tarts Ive ever had), sugar cookies cut into Christmas tree shapes sprinkled with large green sugar crystals, shortbread, Nanaimo bars and mincemeat tarts (which I could never understand because apparently they didnt have any meat in them.) all stacked inside on layers of waxed paper.
My sister and I would have to sit up there with them for the first little while, although it was always just that boring adult small town talk about the Hiedecker boy, or how that Kubinchuck girl had shacked up with her boyfriend. Always the last name of the family, then 'boy' or 'girl'. We'd eventually be given our release and I'd go off tobagganing or building snowforts with my friends.
The next day, my Aunt and Uncle would show up with my two cousins. Those kids were about 5 and 7 years younger than me, so they always brought more of that supercharged Christmas feel that kids the age of 4 and 6 can do. They would also add their big fat black poodle peppy to the dog mix, and that dog was anything but peppy.
This was our Christmas, every year exactly the same tribe. Wed rotate whose house would actually be hosting it every year, but whether it was in Castor, Sherwood Park or Calgary, my stomach would usually start to not feel so good about half way through the 24th.
I would get myself SO worked up, that I actually made myself sick. Year after year, I would wake up Christmas morning stuck in bed and pale faced. Instead of getting up and going down to the fireplace to pull my stocking off the hearth, mom would bring it to me in bed. Shed accompany that stocking with some unbuttered toast, a glass of flat ginger ale and a half a gravol so that Id usually be able to get up in my flannel pajamas, and come down stairs for the gift opening without throwing up.
Well, I guess the reason Im saying this, is because I was just pouring myself a cup of coffee, and I noticed the best before date on the cream is December 25th.
Instead of the childhood anxiety I felt (anxiety as in anxious. A good thing.) It was more of just a dread.
I am so not looking forward to this.
As these voices got louder, we could finally see a crowd of people moving towards us, they were all wearing big white T-shirts with the word ZEAL on the front in big black letters like those old WHAM! T-shirts from the 80s.
One person in the middle of the group was carrying a stick across his back that was wrapped in Christmas lights and they were somehow turned on. (hey, it was a dream, maybe the guy had a big battery pack or something.)
This Christmas light stick was supposed to represent their Christmas tree from last year, and it was their ancient custom to keep the tree from last years Christmas, then burn it the next year as part of their religious celebration. Originally, and in older times, apparently they would carry the actual burning Christmas tree, but the serious injuries that would always result in were no longer acceptable in todays society, so they settled with this stick with the lights wrapped around it.
Upon waking, it seems to me that that is a good idea. Keeping last years tree around for the full 12 months, and then in that death before life way, cremate the old tree before lighting up the new one.
I want a Christmas tree now. Maybe Ill decorate my place all christmasy like.
Anyways, as a kid, I always used to get SO excited for xmas. The expiry date on the milk carton from my morning bowl of Capn Crunch would always be the trigger to that. Sometime around mid December, that carton would finally have Dec 25 stamped on the side of that fin, and just seeing that date would mean that Christmas was really really close now, that would start that countdown of anxiety. Usually the last couple of days before Christmas, I could barely contain myself.
Grandma and Grandpa would usually show up first. They would always stop off in Stettler to pick up Great Grandma Wigley on the way to our place in Calgary. Theyd have pudgie, their snappy little terrier, and our two miniature poodles (Snoopy and Cindy) would just lose it when Pudgie got there. Theyd be running all over the house for about 45 minutes in some strange little dog party thing.
Mom would have the coffee on for Grandma and Grandpa, and theyd all sit in the living room upstairs with a big tray of all the Christmas baking Mom had been making for the last month, and Grandma would always bring a few icecream buckets full of her own mix of butter tarts (still the best butter tarts Ive ever had), sugar cookies cut into Christmas tree shapes sprinkled with large green sugar crystals, shortbread, Nanaimo bars and mincemeat tarts (which I could never understand because apparently they didnt have any meat in them.) all stacked inside on layers of waxed paper.
My sister and I would have to sit up there with them for the first little while, although it was always just that boring adult small town talk about the Hiedecker boy, or how that Kubinchuck girl had shacked up with her boyfriend. Always the last name of the family, then 'boy' or 'girl'. We'd eventually be given our release and I'd go off tobagganing or building snowforts with my friends.
The next day, my Aunt and Uncle would show up with my two cousins. Those kids were about 5 and 7 years younger than me, so they always brought more of that supercharged Christmas feel that kids the age of 4 and 6 can do. They would also add their big fat black poodle peppy to the dog mix, and that dog was anything but peppy.
This was our Christmas, every year exactly the same tribe. Wed rotate whose house would actually be hosting it every year, but whether it was in Castor, Sherwood Park or Calgary, my stomach would usually start to not feel so good about half way through the 24th.
I would get myself SO worked up, that I actually made myself sick. Year after year, I would wake up Christmas morning stuck in bed and pale faced. Instead of getting up and going down to the fireplace to pull my stocking off the hearth, mom would bring it to me in bed. Shed accompany that stocking with some unbuttered toast, a glass of flat ginger ale and a half a gravol so that Id usually be able to get up in my flannel pajamas, and come down stairs for the gift opening without throwing up.
Well, I guess the reason Im saying this, is because I was just pouring myself a cup of coffee, and I noticed the best before date on the cream is December 25th.
Instead of the childhood anxiety I felt (anxiety as in anxious. A good thing.) It was more of just a dread.
I am so not looking forward to this.
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
wottan:
Man these past couple of Christmas' this one in particular, have really snuck up on me. I mean its already this Saturday. 
darklis:
Glad I could make you laugh, apparently, I am SG's clown. 