When I was growing up, December 24 was all about sister Marjorie Ellen. It was her birthday. My parents did all they could to make that her special day, as a birthday should be. Especially when you’re a kid.
Margie’s birthday had nothing whatsoever to do with Christmas. Even if there was a tree in the living room while she blew out the candles on the cake. Her day was her day.
It was black and white. First came Margie. Next day came baby Jesus. And Santa. Because you couldn’t have one without the other. Bible says so. It’s in there somewhere I’m sure. Three wise men bringing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Stuff the grownups might want (Gold, Mr. Spouse…hint…hint) But what kid in his right mind would put frankincense and myrrh on his list? Dried tree sap? Resin? Even one who would become the ultimate overachiever like baby J?
That’s why they needed Santa. The guy who brings the good stuff to the party. A case of Papyrus Pampers to make life easier for mom and dad. A bottle of Manischewitz to toast the birth. The bobble head Cesar for the back of the donkey. Condoms for the shepherds. And a BC Binkie for the babe.
But I digress. I was talking about Margie and her birthday. Which had nothing to do with Christmas Eve, just Margie, whom I worshipped and idolized because she was my big sister and knew everything. EVERYTHING ABOUT EVERYTHING. In my eyes she was perfect.
Did I ever tell you how bad my eyesight is?
It wasn’t until I was an ADULT, that I discovered people actually celebrate Christmas Eve as a holiday unto itself.
Imagine that….
So we do, sort of. Tonight we’ll have a lovely dinner. It will be our first Christmas Eve without Mama. We’ll raise a glass in her honor, repeat the stories we’ve told countless times about her. We’ll celebrate her life and her passing and be happy that’s she’s in a better place.
Sister Marjorie Ellen is in a better place now too…Norway. Been there her entire adult life–quite possibly because they celebrate Christmas for TWELVE days. I guess her birthday gets lost somewhere in there but that’s okay, there’s enough days of wine to cover that.
But these days Christmas Eve is more than Marjorie Ellen and Jesus. Because someone else in the family was born on December 24.
Happy Birthday Baby Bean, AKA Precious Man Dog! Happy birthday!
Santa came early today. Four boxes on the porch when I came home. FOUR. Like we hit the gift box lottery or something.
Two were for Mr. Spouse. Just who is sending my husband gifts? Not I. Certainly not I. I’m making the man beef jerkey. Enough jerkey to keep him chewing for quite some time. And the promise of a steady supply of tough ‘n tasty dead cow for a whole year. I’ll even make a fancy coupon so he knows it’s for real.
And I’m going to clean our closet. What man wouldn’t swoon over that??? I’m telling you, he’ll be thrilled–THRILLED–that he will finally be able to walk into the walk-in. I’ll make a coupon for that, too. Which will buy me some time for actually doing the deed. Because really, if I had the time in the first place, the closet would never have reached the board-of-health-red-alert-stage.
I’m big on coupons.
But back to the packages on the porch. We’ve established now that two were for Mr. Spouse.
The third was for the horses. Ten pounds of pony supplements. Omega 3s for shiny coats and strong hooves. Works like magic. Maybe I should sprinkle some on my oatmeal.
The fourth package was for ME! YAY!!! I LOVE you Santa, especially when you stay up late on the computer ordering art supplies.
Like these. Pan Pastels. According to the manufacturer “These smooth, rich pastel colors are loaded with pure artists’ pigments and are made with a unique manufacturing process requiring minimal binder and fillers, resulting in rich, ultra soft and low dust formulation.” They’re professional quality, lightfast and all sorts of amazingly wonderful artsy stuff.
And they mix with everything. Can’t wait to fuse them into some wax. But I’ll have to wait. Don’t see any studio time before New Years. Just the way it is, kids coming and all. Trust me, when I’m building sofa forts with Missy B I won’t miss the studio at all.
Well, maybe just a little…
All these colors came in the four stacks in the box. This particular combination is the 20 Color Set Shades. Don’t you just love ’em?
The solstice is here! The solstice is here! Hopping up and down, waving my arms with excitement, just like Steve Martin celebrating the arrival of the new phone book in The Jerk.
Because by this time of the year I’m desperate–positively desperate–for a few more minutes of daylight. I’m tired of waking up in the dark. Coming home from work in the dark. Feeding the horses in the dark.
I likes me my daylight. I like to be outside. I likes me my SUN! Even if the extra sun comes with the start of winter, that’s OK. Because after winter comes SPRING. My all time most favorite season.
From the Holiday Movie Dept.
This Saturday, Christmas Eve, the Hallmark channel will be rerunning the movie The Christmas Card. It was filmed right here in Nevada City–which is neither in Nevada nor a city but it is where I live. The movie is, umm…Hallmark. The scenery is GREAT.
Okay, now that you’ve checked off your list of teachers, people you went to school with or know from the local co-op gallery…how many female artists of note can you name?
Of note meaning right up there with the big boys.
Hmmm…not too many, eh? Two pop into my head fairly readily–Georgia O’Keefe. Frida Kahlo. Throw in Grandma Moses and make that three.
This is embarrassing. Especially since I’ve got a degree in art. It’s been a long time since I took any art history classes but yet if you asked how many MALE artists I could name, the big boys, I’d tell you to grab a cup of coffee and sit down ’cause this is gonna take awhile. I could tell you their names, Their most famous works. Who they hung out with. Where and when they lived and died. Along the way I’d throw in tidbits of juicy historical gossip.
Do you see what’s wrong with this picture?
I didn’t…but only because I never even thought about it. Been too busy raising a family, taking care of an elderly parent, tending critters, teaching art, making art…. I’ve been too busy squeezing everything in to look outside myself at the BIG picture. The picture that says the glass ceiling extends into the art world too.
Until my friend Tracy Verdugo (an artist as well as a woman–imagine that!) posted a link to a video on facebook. Check it out down below.
