From: Times of Wayne County December 23rd
The comedy that is tree decorating has begun. I have skulked down to grandpa’s den, where he watches baseball and Bo nanza beneath his fairy lit Hess truck col lection. A deer head looks out longingly from the wall beside me towards the rela tives he left behind. Won’t mention some may be closer than he thinks, up in the freezer of the next room. That would just be cruel.
Nothing says home for the holidays like the snow covered countryside of Walworth. Or a freezer full of Venison for that matter. Or the twinkle of lights strewn across the white yards of route 350. The tree is hauled into the living room and Sam declares we are setting up a Christmas show. All I know is whilst we were choosing our fir this morning down the lane at Keymel’s farm, juddering on the benches along the flat bed trailer be hind Roger’s tractor, boy was in true ham form, eagerly posing for his public.
Great to see both my boys back to wards their usual vigor. Latter part of our stay in Fayetteville, Arkansas was marred by seasonal viruses of the strep variety which saw Dad home bound and missing several shows, utterly out of character. Left to me then, to single handedly pack our belongings in the hamper. I usually assume the photographer role, much to the frustration of husband. Now I have new found respect for his knack of cram ming in a family’s worth of belongings into that 3 x 3 box. Painted every colour of the rainbow.
To join in with the “streppys” I devel oped a hefty crick in my neck and, after holding off for fear for around a week, finally succumbed to a chiropractor’s hands. He, a tall bendy yogi type of a fel la, and his wife, a wafty calm acupunc ture- y type of lady, restored us to health whilst boy made friends with their kids. I express my nerves to chiropractor adding that the cracking of bones to cure a spasmodic neck is utterly counter intui tive. He tells me that it has been around for years. So did foot binding and pub lic hangings I think to myself. Half an hour later I am buzzing with endorphins, clinked clonked and rattled to alignment. As I finish up a cinnamon tea husband shuffles out in a post needle stupor.
No surprise we counted down the days to get back home, involving a two flight day through Chicago, notorious for weather delays. Spent 7 hours play ing pretend snow plough with a trolley alongside 50 cast and crew last January, desperately waiting to get to Minneapo lis in time for the following day’s show. In the end we made the last flight out of O’Hare narrowly escaping the blizzard and into the winter wonderland that was Minnesota.
As we drive along the roads that trained me up for that 10K a month ago, it’s im possible not to be hushed into a wintry reverie. From the full, pre-eclipsed moon that guided us towards Rochester airport yesterday luminous in the purple clouds, to this morning’s bright blue skies about the fluffy (3 foot) snow drifts. Espe cially gorgeous if admired from the in side. With family capers going on in the background – I catch husband directing his ma on the use of his iphone camera. From the sounds of things not the most patient of teachers. Then there’s the cat mistaking the baubles for toys. And the perennial mystery of the malfunctioning string lights. And the mum not helping but writing instead. Happy chaos. What holidays are all about. Right?