Boxing Day

In case you were wondering...this is the day you give gifts (presumably in boxes)to the tradespeople who provide service throughout the year. They come to the back door(never the front)the day after Christmas. The automated trash pickup truck does not come to my door. Nor does the newspaper carrier. Or the mailman. The utility meter is read electronically from some central point far far away. And the managers of the Mobile Home Park get lumps of coal. At best.

So...this is a day without outside activity for me. I am doing my usual stuff. Reading, knitting, napping. It is cold and gloomy and windy. I am so grateful for my warm cozy home. I am reasonably healthy and not homeless which is not a bad place to be at this age. There has been a lot of family time this past week. And the joy of the grandchildren is my best gift.

The mercantile madness goes on. The stores are swamped and folks are swarming and racing to return the gifts that other people fought the crowds to buy on Black Friday. No matter how odd or unwanted or puzzling any gift I receive, I keep it. I don't return, exchange or regift. Because a gift says someone was thinking of me. Enough to look up my address. Enough to trek to the post office or Fed Ex to send it. Or brave the storm to bring it to my house.

Most of my family was here on Christmas morning to watch Ember reap Santa's bounty. She got the easel she wanted and several dolls. It was an unwrapping frenzy. She loved every gift, large and small. In fact, she couldn't believe it.

All in all, a very Merry Christmas.