Can you believe there are people out there who are all organized for Christmas? You know the type, the Martha Stewart groupies, the Wonder Moms, the ones that make the normal people look bad (please note that I am not claiming to be normal). They have address books and lists, and labeled boxes with the ribbon and wrapping paper all colour co-ordinated. Christmas shopping is done sporadically throughout the year, not in a last minute flurry. There is no Christmas rush for these domestic engineers.
I'd like to address the idea of the Christmas rush if I may. I personally experience this phenomenon not as an exterior force, but as a mental onslaught. I am completely incapable of wrapping my head around a thought and holding it for any length of time. It's like a mental blizzard, my thoughts whirling like snowflakes in the wind.
Which reminds me, we are just now getting snow. Can you believe it. Mid-December in Newfoundland and we have had double digit temperatures until just recently. The rest of Canada has been assaulted by Jack Frost since November while we are just getting our first taste of winter.
Speaking of taste, I made fudge this week. It's been a while since I took it upon my self to create this most delicious of culinary Christmas classics. It turned out so well, too well in fact. It was going to be boxed up and given away to worthy friends. Then I gave this some more thought. Perhaps I should taste some, just to be sure. It was very good. Perhaps just a little more. After all, I do pride myself on my quality assurance. Yep, next taste was just as good. The third was even better. As I diligently checked for faulty fudge, I really started to think. Just how worthy are my friends? I debated keeping the fudge in my kitchen, to be sure that it was truly appreciated, but the Christmas spirit prevailed. A few pieces made it into a box, which I wrapped very tightly and tied with extra strong ribbon. Just to be safe.
Wrapping! There's one thing I hate about this Christmas racket. I can never get to the wrapping in a timely manner because of the many little eyes and ears about, knocking on the door, creeping out of bed. Every year I become a wrapping demon on Christmas Eve. Paper, tape, and ribbon fly as I wrap my way through mountains of toys, clothes and household appliances. The cat makes himself scarce. He learned his lesson the hard way. He very nearly found himself wrapped into a sweater box in the Great Wrapping Spectacle of 2004. So far this year I have wrapped a grand total of three presents. On Christmas Eve, as Santa is flying somewhere over Australia and the kiddies have visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads, you'll find me somewhere between the curling ribbon and scotch tape.
I will tell you something I am rather enjoying about this Christmas rush. I have some lovely visions dancing in my head, and it does not involve sugarplums. My earlier mention of sweet dreams, and also Australia, reminds me of how much I love my overworked and overtired brain. Not once but twice this week I have had dreams about the stunning Hugh Jackman. Mr. Jackman has long been an object of my fantasies, but had fallen off the radar for some reason that remains unclear. Perhaps his mention as Sexiest Man Alive, or his new movie "Australia" or the fact that he was picked to host this year's Academy Awards stuck somewhere in my subconscious. Whatever the reason, he has been making regular appearances in my dreams. Finally something is going my way! This man's beauty is unparalleled. His legs are a work of art. A very eloquent woman I know described him as "sex personified". Indeed. If there is one thing that can get my mind off the hustle and bustle of the Holidays, it's Hugh Jackman visiting me at night.
So what was I saying? Oh yes, the Christmas season doesn't compel me to run to the mall at every opportunity, buying presents for my brother's girlfriend's sister's aunt. I don't think I'm a failure as a human being if I don't trim every nook and cranny in my house with tinsel, or bake cookies until my freezer is full of sugar laden treats. It does make me forget my point, but I guess, in the grand scheme of things...what was I saying? It probably wasn't important. What is important is putting aside all the silly trappings of the season to spend some quality time with loved ones. My Christmas brain rush is calmed by the excitement on the kids faces Christmas morning, the loud boisterousness of my brother over Christmas dinner, the joy my parents take in having everyone home again, and a few quiet days with my in-laws at the cabin. That's what makes a few weeks of brain blizzard tolerable. And if Santa could drop Hugh Jackman down my metaphorical chimney, that might help too.