Christmas Eve

So this is it, 2006 Christmas. And another year nearly gone.

I will spend my Christmas Eve without my husband, who today is acting battalion chief at the firehouse in the city. Apparently among the men this means there will be some action, as it seems a legend that whenever he rides the car, there's smoke showing. I hope that this proves untrue for once.

My aunt C., my grandmother, my cousin M. and his wife and newborn child, and possibly my uncle J., with or without his wife and children, will be down around 1 p.m. They will, presumably, visit my mother's grave and then come here to visit me. I have planned cheese and crackers, beans & franks, pig in the blanket, and lots of cookies, to feed them all.

Another friend, C. from the paper, has said she will stop by after 3 p.m. I expect no one else though harbor some slight and painful hope that my brother may decide to peer down from his mansion on the hill long enough to visit. That is doubtful, however.

But enough of that. It is Christmas Eve. A magical day. A special night. A time for the spells of wonderous designs to shape themselves and work their particular enchantments.

Go forth, be enchanted.