Look, I love Christmas.
I really do.
This year's is shaping up to be somewhat of a challenge. One of my American cousins is coming up from California to pay her respects to Demeter. She's coming five days before Christmas, and will depart on the morning of Boxing Day. This is because she's American, and, as far as she's concerned, Christmas began on the American Thanksgiving and will end abruptly on Christmas Day.
This means my deadline for getting Christmas ready has moved up sharply. It also means a Christmas of fire signs, because, naturally, Double Leo Sister and Jolly Not-So-Green Giant Brother-in-Law (an Aries, like my American cousin), plus, possibly, my younger nephew (another Leo). All wonderful people. All exhausting people. All people who dwell in a different world than mine. And I will be picking through an emotional minefield of expectations and extra effort - with my injured right arm.
It'll be lovely to see them. My daughters will be thrilled.
And I'll be looking forward to Boxing Day, which is, after all, the second day of Christmas. Americans don't observe either.
I've been avoiding the preparations I should be making, and doing genealogy and watching YouTube videos. I've shared this one before. It's about British Christmases. They understand something about darkness and depth, even in a festival of light.
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