It's quickly approaching 2 in the afternoon and they still aren't back. The "just an hour or two" has stretched into over 4. This shouldn't suprise me.
My father is putting up christmas lights, apparently not liking my idea that we just fill the gutters with gasoline and make a merry bonfire.
I don't like christmas. The only way it's even vaguely good is that it gives me an excuse to give people things. But I give things to people all the time without an excuse, so really... it isn't that good. I've never really understood that whole "joy and wonder" thing they claim we all should have. I've never understood the greatness of santa or why anyone really thought that there was a fat man giving them presents.
I always knew it was my dad who ate the cookies and my mom who replied to the notes with carefully implanted idiosyncracies like all the backward 's's and the child-like script.
And really .. the only joy or wonder any of us really felt was the anticipation of getting stuff.
The pre-gift adrenaline.
Heh.. I don't think these things with a cynical rancor... I'm just at a loss as to where there was *ever* this special magical thing the movies would have us believe was there, if we just look hard enough.
I think it would be nice to remember it.