Dad is being transferred to sixth floor. I don’t know what this means. But he is at least of out intensive care. I called him last night. He sounded tired so we didn’t talk long. Then Barb called and said that he had people stopping by all day to visit. Good stuff.
In addition to seeing Dad, Kristie and I will finish Christmas shopping. I was reading through the newest Newsweek. Anna Quindlen in her column, “The Last Word,” she takes up the issue of Christmas. In it she has an interesting quite by Fanny Kemble, a British actress, all the way back in 1874 -- “’Christmas is a season of such infinite labour, as well as expense in the shopping and present-making line, that almost every woman I know is good for nothing in purse and person for a month afterwards.” It seems little has changed in some 132 years.
Kristie loves Christmas. Last weekend (or the weekend before - I forget), she Christmasized our home. I have never seen so many Christmas decoration. Well, there aren’t just decorations - there are also towels, a Santa cookie jar, candles, Christmas music, and on and on. It’s a wonder to behold. Now our house is Christmas from the miniature Christmas characters on the shelves to the large snow globes on the coffee table to the tree (with a toy train that encircles the bottom of the tree), several other trees up in windows, other Christmas dolls and Nativity sets. Again, it’s a wonder to behold.
But the ones who appreciate it most are our cats - Einstein and Lucky. This year Kristie placed the tree in the corner between the stair case and our built in bookshelf. Last year she had it in a corner by our front door, but Einstein took to climbing in the tree. Once he was in there and were heard a clatter and saw the lights flicker and go out as Einstein made a dash up the stairs. He had been chewing on one of the chords to the lights and actually bit through. So we thought we’d change our location for the tree. It has done no good. Instead of climbing in the tree, the cats now sleep among the presents. In Lucky’s case this is fine - he is about two pounds. But in Einstein’s case - he is around 20 pounds - he has actually mashed some boxes to fit his fat form. He is partial to a spot right in front of the heating vent. Last night he had maneuvered another present over to his little spot so he could place his chin on it and rest.
For the first few days we tried to keep the cats away from the tree. When this failed, we put the bulbs back on and the garland back up and then scooted the presents back under the tree. On the first night, Casey informed us that Lucky had indeed broken a bulb. Of course, it had to be one that was handmade by Koko’s grandmother with Koko’s picture inside. This called for more stern treatments of the cats when the approached the tree. But our efforts have faltered and the cats have completely won out.
Last night as we sat downstairs reading, I heard Kristie chuckle. I looked up from my chair and followed her gaze to our poor tree. There were Einstein and Lucky fast asleep under the tree. The train was knocked over. Cars tossed on their sides and scattered about. The tracks torn up. The presents had been scattered and re-situated to fit the cats’ needs. There were no bulbs to be found withina three feet of the ground, roughly the cats’ reach. Each strip of garland had been tugged off and hauled under the tree (and probably clawed and chewed under there). The tree itself was leaning at a precarious angle (luckily we decided it would be wise to tie a string from the tree to the banister to secure the tree). And even more presents were flattened and chewed at the corners.
I swear it’s their house and we just live in it.
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