It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Good Morning. . .is it Friday yet? Here I am, Thursday morning, late to work as usual, and still trying to tell you the funny story that happened last Friday! It’s just the finish of what I tried to tell you yesterday before my melt down.

Last week, I’d been keeping my fingers crossed that the news wouldn’t be too bad and that I could audition for Forever Plaid at Reston. But, as my family comes first, I sent a note to the producer with my best wishes; and a caveat that if they needed a back-up after auditions, I might consider coming in.

And then I get this call from Mom, (which has nothing to do with the above, but whatever . . . you’ll see.)

“Hi Vig. It’s Mom. What are you up to this evening?”

“Dinner with friends, and a show. Why? What’s up?,” I said.

“Oh well,” she said, a newfound sadness in her voice that I hope I don’t have to get used too. “I was thinking about coming up and decorating your tree.”

(I don’t think she said “help you decorate . . . ,” but she could have.)

“What about tomorrow?,” I offered. (I’m all about helping her to keep busy, you know?!)

“Well. . . I have choir rehearsal in the afternoon for the ‘Hanging of the Green’,” she said. “Would you be willing to do it in the morning?”

“That’d be fine; I’m usually up by nine anyway. What time were you thinking of?”

“Oh about 10:30.”

“That would be great!”

Then she says: “I just want to be sure that all the ornaments, lights, and extension cords are all out so we don’t waste anytime. Can you do that?”

“Mama?,” I said, “I’m at work right now, and after work we’re going to dinner with Puck and Memae, and then to a show, and then to the cast party afterward. I’m sorry, but I can’t get those things out of storage until tomorrow.”

“Oh ok,” she said, taking a moment to think before saying: “I just want to be sure that all the ornaments, lights, and extension cords are all out so we don’t waste anytime. Can you do that?” Again! Wow, how weird is that? I wanted to laugh so bad.

So patiently and without patronizing, I said “What we’re going to have to do, since Rolf won’t be home until lunch time, is I’ll get the ladder ready before you and Daddy get there. Then while you hold the ladder, I’ll hand things down to you and Daddy that we’ll need . . . since I’ll be going to dinner, and a show, and a party tonight.”

“Oh, ok. . .”

“????,” I thought. Is she going to say it again? When did she get old?

I’ve been really working on the house during this fall break from theater. So when they got there it looked good. Not to mention that the view of the lake is so different each week that it’s such a joy . . . even if it really is only a mud-puddle.

“Hello?!” she said opening the door and walking right in. By the time I had padded down the hall, she was holding the door for Dad as he shuffled up the steps. They even brought Mindy, their little American Eskimo dog (basically a toy Spitz.)

By the time Rolf got home from his errand, one tree was about done, and the second was under construction. Mama was powering through the decorating, while I was looking for stuff she asked for: tree hooks, extension cords, coffee. Daddy’s little dog likes to sit in his lap. Our greyhound, d’Ohgy, loved all the excitement too.

Before we took a break for lunch, I had a call from the producer of Forever Plaid. Yeah. “We just don’t seem to have the right mix. . .”

“oh dear, yay me, oh shit, what to do, what to do, crap, hooray . . .,” I thought.

“I couldn’t rehearse more than 3 days a week on average until tech week. I can’t rehearse on Tuesdays,” (so I can still go to dance class with Joy,) “My family is here now, I have to talk to them about it . . . but . . .I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nobody seemed to be surprised at lunch, or even have an opinion on whether I should go to the call-back or not. So, what the hell, I’ve done this role before, so has one of the other boys, it could be fun and easy.

Mom kicked it into overdrive. Daddy checking his watch every five minutes and saying:

“Chicken? You’re not going to make it to rehearsal if we don’t leave soon.”

Mama puts her head down in determination, picking up three or four ornaments at a time, not stopping to look at him and says:

“I just want one of these trees done before I leave.”

Five more minutes go by . . . “Chicken? If we hit any traffic, you’re going to be late.”

“Almost there,” she says.

“Chicken? I’ll get you’re coat and you’re purse,” he says and she’s still in decorating overdrive has he shuffles across the room to get her coat and shuffles back toward the door where he holds the coat for her . . .

“Chicken?” he says. She stops and looks at him holding her coat, looks back at the tree; it looks good.

“You’ll get this finished up before I come back here?” which is less of a question than you’d think. I just laugh, and don’t answer.

And there is laughter, hugs, and kisses.

O come, Thou Day-spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.

Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.