Cheryl has it in her head that Christmas is any minute now. The calendar fact that Halloween is next week does not dissuade her vision of the immediate future. Often when she makes comments almost daily now about cards, cookies, toys and generally shopping for the grand kiddos, I correct her and point out that we have about eight weeks to go before we need to worry.

We have only one grand child under the age of fifteen. My secret grand plan was to give every kid money and let them go find something that they covet. Zachary is only five so shopping for him takes us back to when the parents were that small. Good memories and fun times were had by all and I admit I like to shop for little people. (Maybe I should tell my soon to be fifty year old daughter that her mom is getting her a Raggedy Ann for Christmas. Be surprised and delighted. Is Raggedy Ann still around?)

So why are men so obstinate? Why am I stuck on correcting her delusion about the calendar time? I am not going to let her miss anything. She seems to not be disappointed when she indicates Christmas is next week and I say, no it is the week after or some such other baloney to satisfy her that the perceived need is not urgent. She wants to put up some Christmasy decorations. Why not? What is the harm if it satisfies her that all is in readiness?

Cookies

Two days ago like many days previous she wanted to make cookies for Christmas. Yesterday early in the day I put together the dough in preparation. It was our intention to make the cookies after we came home from dinner last evening. It did not happen as we became distracted with watching a couple PBS shows that are our favorites. I promised today after exercise class we would make cookies.

After a little lunch we got started on the cookies. In my maleness I sort of bossed her out of the way to start the process. Why I did that I am still discerning. Maybe in another life I will know why or not. She wanted to make the dough balls for the snicker doodles. I reluctantly backed off shifted into check-on-her mode.

Music

I once worked for a small company that had a six hour loop tape of Christmas music that played on the hold line of the office phone. One of the partners had read a book about how office workers liked to hear and were more efficient with music playing. He piped the hold music into the overhead speakers. It was like working in an elevator that was stuck on the wrong floor. It was agony.

She said to me, “Get your music machine out and turn on Christmas music.” She means Alexa. I cringed when she told to do that. I think I grumped a little too and then I went to get the hockey puck I move around to listen to music. A Christmas song or two in among others is okay. WARM 98’s idea of solid Christmas music, old, new, good, bad, chipmunks, Benedictine monks, rock and roll, country-western, some group of nuns, Bing Crosby, etc. a few years ago lost me as a listener. That was not a big deal to them since I rarely listened to their station. Five weeks of Christmas music is agony to my ear. I feared the worst was going to happen – Christmas carols from Halloween to Christmas. There would be no “Monster Mash”. I said loudly, “Alexa, play Christmas music!”

Christmas music always makes Cheryl nostalgic. She remembers the olden days when she was a child. Nostalgia makes people tear up. Cheryl is no different. With her version of Parkinson, her emotions are on her sleeve. “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” started coming from Alexa. Bing was doing he usual great job. Cheryl was five when this movie became a favorite in the post war ‘50s. In the middle of scooping cookie dough into one inch balls she started to cry. There is nothing I can say to assuage her nostalgia and longing for her childhood. Those are most of the only clear memories that she has. A runny nose and drippy eyes are not useful for rolling cookie dough into balls for snicker-doodles so I eased her out of the way into a chair while I finished rolling the cookies.

I suppose we will do cards another day. Why are men so obstinate?

Carpe Diem.