Christmas Eve

It's madness, but I ventured out on the morning of Christmas Eve to shop at Bed, Bath, and Beyond and then at Hiller's. I made it out alive. After taking a dismal look at the White Rabbit's condition, I decided to take him for a carwash. I'd figured I had plenty of time before setting off to visit Christ and Amy in Clarkston, but I also had plenty to do - make lunch, wrap presents, write cards, feed Milou a treat, decide on what to wear, dress up. I finally left my place at 1510 hours.

The weather was just fine - blue skies and strips of cloud to pave the way. The only delay was for five minutes on 696, just before it joins I75. According to AM 950 (thank you, noob, for telling me about the station), there's an accident at that spot every day.

The drive took a bit longer than I thought, about 1 hour 20 minutes, but I arrived int ime for dinner at 1630 hours. A short prayer with Chris, Amy, Amy's parents and sisters, and then it was potato and cheese, honeybaked ham, cherries in sour cream, Hungarian sausage, salad with nuts, and pecan pie (for Jesus's birthday - with a candle). I had two helpings of everything and I was the slowest eater.

Chris's and Amy's place is a small blue house, and it's very cosy. It's also a block from the church, where they work as youth pastors. After dinner, we drove there (it took about a minute, including the time required to start the car) for the Christmas Eve service. Plenty of candlelight, carols, and adorable kids. I could easily pick out the husbands and wives in the service - the pianist and one of the singers, who both wore red turtlenecks and black slacks; the pastor and wife, both a little round and outfitted in patterned sweaters; and of course, I knew Amy and Chris, who, thankfully, weren't dressed to match. I imagined myself and LK volunteering at the Catholic Church's Engaged Encounter in Singapore, and made a mental note that we should never, ever dress alike.

After the service, we returned to a warm house where we exchanged presents. Chris set up his huge telescope and I got to see Saturn and its rings and one of its moons, something I've never seen before. I also gazed at the moon, which looked like a very bright silver fruit with bumps, craters and all. My mind immediately leaped to memories of the sci-fi movies I know well and love - Cocoon, Contact ("No words"... no words at all) - and then the upcoming films, War of the Worlds and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, whose book I need to start on soon.

By the time I set off for the drive home, it was bitingly cold, about -22 degrees celsius. The drive home was fast (only 1 hour) and relatively smooth. It was a lovely drive at night - good music, warm toes, warm backside (the White Rabbit's seat-warmers are great). I was in such a good mood, I even had the energy to get some gas before heading home.

I called my brother, my mom, and then I had a nice MSN/webcam chat with LK, in which I noticed his thinner appearance. His new position at work and re-service have narrowed his face - he's lost weight in a remarkably short time (apparently, even the girl behind the counter at the chocolate shop, Original Sin, is hitting on him - #%*@!).

To end the day - I really like the poem selected for today's The Writer's Almanac.

"Dover Beach"

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast, the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,

Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

~ by Matthew Arnold

Posted by Monoceros at December 24, 2004 11:24 PM