It's just a tradition, like cinnamon rolls on Sabbath mornings or picture time in the bleak midwinter afternoons. Yet it is more binding than the Kyoto Protocol. No, it's not a fabulously festive and fatty feast, and not always is there a "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing" in the air. Whenever my sisters and I reunite in the little town of Waverly, an increasingly rare occurrence as of late, we try to watch "The Grinch" movie. Most are familiar with the Dr. Suess story, but we three Roddys of Orient, Africa, and America fill the silent night with raucous laughter during such an occasion. I don't know why, perhaps the good recitations make us rejoice with soul and voice.
But this being my second Christmas away in a strange place, some new traditions are being forged. Yet again, I sit here watching lightning overwhelm a midnight clear. Furthermore, I have been saved once again by angels from the realms of gory Christmas present return adventures or endless traffic nightmares. Will I miss it? Oh come on! You will? I think not. This year will be much quieter than last. It will be the dogs (2-3), the cats (2-3), and perhaps some foreigners (1-3). This Christmas may not have the chilly feel or the dreary look of barren trees, and the grouch deep down inside wants to rise up and follow my festive side, marring it's jolly attitude. But the lights of December in the window and the green leaves keep the grinchy side in line. Most of all, I'm excited for the unsurprising present coming my way in just a couple days, and maybe the chance to go chill out on the mountain. More on that and the number of carol references later. Care to make a guess anyway?
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