Growing up in the ’80’s, I pretty much think all sweaters were “ugly.”  Perhaps a better word would be garish.  So I am loving this recent trend of having “ugly” Christmas sweater contests!  They’re silly and it’s a light-hearted thing to do.  Truth be told, I think some of them are cute.  I have one with a whole village that lights up and I really like it.  My husband just had an “ugly” Christmas sweater day at work.  Next year I’m going to get him one that says, “Yeti Christmas.”  It would be a fun follow up to the shirt I got him last year that reads, “Big Foot doesn’t believe in you either.”  It’s not my thing but it makes him happy.  Anyway, I had to bring the little one in for a check up and her pediatrician’s office was completely decked out!  There were “ugly” Christmas sweaters aplenty.  We saw reindeer antlers, candy cane headbands, bells jingling from elf hats, light up Christmas bulb necklaces — and then there was this guy.  He was proudly rocking the sweater his mother had made for him.  What a cool mom and an even cooler son to wear it!  The sweater had everything — Santa, stockings, a Christmas tree, a penguin, a gingerbread house, a Christmas garland draped with colored ornaments, mistletoe, poinsettias, a snowman Christmas card etched in tinsel, girl and boy gingerbread people and, perhaps funniest of all, lace doilies on his back covering him like shoulder pads in a football game.  It was the sweater to end all sweaters.  American actress, writer, and Saturday Night Live alum Kristen Wiig said, “There’s something about a Christmas sweater that will always make me laugh.”  This one certainly made me laugh and brought with it a good dose of Christmas cheer.  Long live “ugly” Christmas sweaters.

For as long as I can recall I have stared up with fascination at this particular fountain in the mall.  No matter how many times I have seen it; I am still enthralled.  It has held my interest through childhood, puberty, adulthood, and technology.  The Italian actress Sophia Loren said:

“There is a fountain of youth: it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of people you love.  When you learn to tap this source, you will truly have defeated age.”

We saw Santa tonight and were walking over to eat afterward, as is our tradition.  I looked as my little one scrambled up the cement sides of the fountain just as I did when I was a kid.  I saw her peer over as far as she could to look into the water.  All of her movements I had once done; her awe I still retained.  So engrossed was I in watching her that I managed to forget my ever present iPhone dangling from my hand.  I shot this just as she turned around and exclaimed “MAMA!!” for me to see, and my heart was full.  Always having been in a family of three, God was merciful.  My parents may be with Him in heaven but He blessed me with a handsome husband and a beautiful little girl, both of whom are loving and kind.  And so the circle continues.  In Native culture life is not linear; it is cyclical.  I knew as we all stood gazing up at the fountain we would be drawn inevitably to return to it again next year, full of the same excitement, wonder, and joy; the fountain of youth.

Growing up in an apartment that did not have a fireplace, I always yearned for one.  I wanted it to be a rustic stone one with a nice mantle.  And I was always concerned about how Santa was going to come.  When I got married and we bought our home the first thing I fell in love with was our white rock wood burning fireplace (“Austin stone” if you want to be pretentious.)  It’s not huge but I do not like the idea of burning a ton of wood; I really try to leave a low environmental footprint.  This was our first fire of the season and outside our Holy Nativity glowed while the sweet scent of pinion filled the air.  We were supposed to go to an annual Winter Ball but I am still really sick.  So we snuggled up as a threesome instead and I introduced our little one to my parents’ favorite movie, “A Christmas Story.”  Mama and Daddy were both little in the ’30’s.  I wasn’t sure she’d like it but she laughed when the hounds made off with the turkey and watched the whole thing.  The Dutch Post-Impressionist painter Vincent Van Gogh once said:

“One may have a blazing hearth in one’s soul and yet no one ever came to sit by it.  Passers-by see only a wisp of smoke from the chimney and continue on their way.”

I do not think most people look past the wisp of smoke.  But tonight, under chenille blankets instead of glittering chandeliers, I know we all shared a blazing hearth.

Our little kitten Blue has certainly made himself at home.  We all love him beyond reason.  Lately though he has started to turn up in the oddest places, sort of like our little one’s Elf on the Shelf.  He has been in a (thankfully empty) giant pasta pot on the stove, he has appeared on top of our baby doll’s tipi, and his most recent hang out has been inside our Christmas tree.  I had forgotten how WILD Siamese are.  They’re climbers, they’re hunters, and they’re talkers; plus they are incredibly smart.  We have a Bengal who is more domesticated for heaven’s sake!  And our little guy, who is a rescue, is only half!  Thankfully he is still so tiny he cannot weigh down the tree enough to tip it over.  But he’s batting shiny ornaments, chewing on tinsel, and just making a general nuisance of his adorably handsome self.  He literally fell asleep in the “branches” and was so camouflaged I did not even discover him until he decided he wanted to get down.  The American naturalist Joseph Wood Krutch once said:

“Cats are rather delicate creatures and they are subject to a good many different ailments, but I have never heard of one who suffered from insomnia.”

So currently around our house there are twelve presents hiding, eleven sacks a rattling, ten squirrels a leaping, nine possums riding (on their mama), eight birds a chirping, seven fish a swimming, six raccoons playing, five shredded strings, four crashes heard, three French tins, two turtles loved, and a Siamese in the Christmas tree.

Sick.  So sick.  The little one and I have been coughing uncontrollably for days.  I finally broke down and went back to the doctor for my wicked sinus infection that has lingered for weeks.  I have BARELY left my bed; meanwhile little miss walking pneumonia is bouncing off the walls.  It would seem her Christmas break has started an entire week early.  After hours of hacking up my lungs I finally staggered over to soak in a warm bubble bath.  The steam was just beginning to rise and I eased back with a contented sigh.  Just as I closed my eyes a gust of cold air came bursting in along with this adorable little sprite.  “Mama, are you taking a bath?” she asked peering down at me.  “Yes, honey,” I replied through slitted eyes.  “Can I stay with you?” she asked in her innocent voice.  “Sure, sweetheart” I said hoping she might get bored and leave.  The next thing I knew there were bath toys assailing me from every direction and squeals of delight as she shrieked “Save me!  Save me!” to some poor animal who had sunk.  Rummaging around for what was poking me, I retrieved it thinking I would have some respite.  After closing my eyes once again I opened them upon hearing “HO HO HO!”  This sweet angel was looking at me with bubbles on her face and giggling with uncontrolled glee.  What would I do without my little one?  The American poet Sylvia Plath once wrote, “There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won’t cure, but I don’t know many of them.”  I feel the same about my precious little girl.  She lifts my spirits, loves me unconditionally, and lends everything in my life wonder, magic, and joy … making my life bubbly.