That's six weeks to savor my favorite time of year, and to hope it doesn't go by too quickly.
Six weeks to enjoy the colors and lights and music--my favorite part, the music.
Six weeks to pour egg nogg down my gullet until none of my clothes fit anymore. (Maybe this year I won't go quite that far.)
Six weeks to hope the beauty and joy and peace aren't overshadowed by the worst of the tacky commercialism--and six weeks to enjoy the best of the tacky commercialism.
Six weeks to read A Christmas Carol, three or four pages per night, to Anna before bed.
Six weeks to try to be undeterred by all the Scrooges who can't understand why people like me love Christmas so much.
There's a Hobby Lobby only about seven miles from us, and I go there often. They start setting up for Christmas--I'm not making this up--shortly after Independence Day, so I can go there through much of the summer and get a little jolt of Christmas excitement. I've already bought two Christmas tchotchkes from them, including this love-filled Snow Man:
Tacky? Perhaps. I don't care. It makes me happy.
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