Woolgathering

Just got home from Christmas at Mom's. Kind of a quiet way to spend Christmas. Since my son isn't making it to southeast Texas before next weekend, I decided that I didn't want to spend another Christmas in a home not my own. So I drove over Sunday evening after our candlelight service, watched the end of Miracle on 34th Street, then went to bed.

Christmas day was slow and lazy, with favorite foods for eats and the dog playing with her Christmas toy for fun. The cat. Well, the cat was still in hiding. She's not too impressed with having a dog around (even though they lived in the same house for over five years). The boy called, so at least he survived this far!

And now I'm back in town. The dog and I have left the cat to her solitude, probably really chewing Mom out for letting that crazy dog wreck her serene existence. I have it on good authority that the cat has just discovered herself in Mom's new patio door - to the detriment of her poor head. The twit has charged the glass at least 2-3 times without learning her lesson. *chuckle*

While driving home, I found myself noticing the hawks along the way. When I did my internship in rural Oklahoma, it was always interesting to drive from one little town to the next. I started noticing that each field had its hawk. They'd sit on one of the fenceposts until they noticed something worthy of swooping on. It got to where it was odd to see a field without its hawk! Now, I'm not a birdwatcher. But I've gotten quite interested in looking for hawks, and feel at peace whenever I see them. There's something cool about those good sized birds just watching over things.

The Old and Lost Rivers are really low! I think it's the lowest I've ever seen them, and I drove back and forth over them for 10 years in the mid 70's/early 80's and for the last 3 years. Just seems odd to see areas of dirt in the middle of the span. Wonder what's causing it.

An old Christmas memory popped to the surface today. One of the very first Christmas songs that I remember learning to sing in church was C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S. As you might guess, it was an acrostic with each letter having a meaning ascribed to it. C is for the Christ child, born upon this day ... H for herald angels in the night.... and so on. The children's choir even had 'sign language' for each of the letters. It certainly wasn't ASL, but the spelling stuck and I still remember it. I'm not sure whether I remember the song because I like it (which I do), or if it was for the total embarrassment I experienced when we sang it. I was the kid on one of the ends and couldn't remember which end I was supposed to be on. (Directionally-challenged even at that young age!) After swapping ends about 3-4 times, the director told me to just pick one and stay there. *blush* It's still embarrassing after all these years!

Here's hoping that next year I'll be able to spend Christmas in my own home, with my decorations and my own traditions. One never can tell whether kinfolk will be around, but I feel blessed to have 'family' around in a variety of guises, and know that the family part of Christmas will always be a part of the season. However, I feel kind of rootless at the moment and hope my exile comes to an end shortly. *fingers crossed*