It's Coming

I’m finding it hard not to give in to the holiday spirit already. It would be even harder if the temperature stayed below 80 degrees for more than ten minutes. I love the last six weeks of the year. I don’t know why I won’t give in and let the holidays become the last eight weeks of the year. It’s all about early nights, Burl Ives, and butter. It’s mostly the butter for me – and Paula Deen. I think I’m at my absolutely happiest when my family is together and I’m cooking. I’m sitting here getting excited about cooking Swedish meatballs. I can imagine the smells of the butter and onions mixed with the remnants of a scented candle that we thought would be festive to light, but it quickly bothers everyone’s allergies, and the smell of the Christmas tree. One of our iHomes is set on a random Christmas loop. I sing and cook. It doesn’t have to be Swedish meatballs. It can be some kind of baked good. I’m a good baker because I can unwaveringly follow directions. I’m not a good singer. Mariah Carey is said to have a five octave range. I might have a five semitone range, but I am looking forward to singing to LMJ this year. She doesn’t know what to do when I sing songs she doesn’t know. She holds up her hand and tells me to stop like a traffic cop, but I can tell she likes it because she smiles. I’m looking forward to singing to her this year because Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, and Bing Crosby weren’t castratos and sang like they had a pair so I don’t have to try to sing like a eunuch. I’m also looking forward to this Christmas because LMJ is still changing so rapidly. Two years ago she was just a blob in a chair. Last year she was mobile, but this year she’s also going to be agile and hostile. She’s going to tell me how to help me make cookies and banana bread. She’s going to have an opinion on stuff. I’m just praying that the weather cooperates.