Nollaig #1
Dec. 4th, 2010 02:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jawnbc *rustle* *whoosh* *tinkle*
If you’ve ever had 1.) a cat, and 2.) a Christmas tree in the same home this sequence of sounds should be familiar.
I found the whole thing hysterical growing up: Puddy (always Puddy; her daughters Blackie and Calico were more docile) stalking, watching, then pouncing on whatever unique combination of twinkling and rustling led her to pounce. Which always seemed to be just high enough in the tree to bring the whole thing down under. How many cats does it take to ruin Christmas? Just one.
OK: she never ruined Christmas…though I suspect Mom gave up a few cumulative feet of colon in her efforts to mitigate Puddy’s smoting. Eventually two well placed nails in either wall and a simple-but-strong strand of twine did the trick. Though that now meant Puddy had to, from time to time, be rescued from the clutches of said tree. Since a non-falling tree does not eject a pouncing cat.
If those were the sounds of Christmas—along with the shredding of wrapping paper, the squeeing from always getting something absolutely awesome (or five) as a present, and the chatter, of the click of a camera trying to capture it all, the taste of Christmas, for me, is the cookies.
Mom wasn’t a big baker, but she baked butter cookies for the holidays and had a wicked kewl tool kit for doing so. In the kitchen, in the back cabinets hidden behind the slide-away dishwasher, was Mom’s cookie press. Kind of like a caulking gun, except thicker and shorter. And will all sorts of attachments to change the shape of the dough coming out. Mom also had some cookie cutters, but it’s her wreaths—complete with green sprinkles—that stand out in my mind.
We’re not going to be home for (much) of Christmas this year: something planned well before Mom died in September, but worked out just fine for me. I’ve not been looking forward to the holidays this year; in fact I’ve been on the fence about whether to put up the tree at all. But it’s up. It’s artificial, and there’s no cats. But I kept glancing out of the corner of my mind for Puddy. And Mom.
I miss you Mom, a lot. Especially right now. I think Christmas next year will be better.
If you’ve ever had 1.) a cat, and 2.) a Christmas tree in the same home this sequence of sounds should be familiar.
I found the whole thing hysterical growing up: Puddy (always Puddy; her daughters Blackie and Calico were more docile) stalking, watching, then pouncing on whatever unique combination of twinkling and rustling led her to pounce. Which always seemed to be just high enough in the tree to bring the whole thing down under. How many cats does it take to ruin Christmas? Just one.
OK: she never ruined Christmas…though I suspect Mom gave up a few cumulative feet of colon in her efforts to mitigate Puddy’s smoting. Eventually two well placed nails in either wall and a simple-but-strong strand of twine did the trick. Though that now meant Puddy had to, from time to time, be rescued from the clutches of said tree. Since a non-falling tree does not eject a pouncing cat.
If those were the sounds of Christmas—along with the shredding of wrapping paper, the squeeing from always getting something absolutely awesome (or five) as a present, and the chatter, of the click of a camera trying to capture it all, the taste of Christmas, for me, is the cookies.
Mom wasn’t a big baker, but she baked butter cookies for the holidays and had a wicked kewl tool kit for doing so. In the kitchen, in the back cabinets hidden behind the slide-away dishwasher, was Mom’s cookie press. Kind of like a caulking gun, except thicker and shorter. And will all sorts of attachments to change the shape of the dough coming out. Mom also had some cookie cutters, but it’s her wreaths—complete with green sprinkles—that stand out in my mind.
We’re not going to be home for (much) of Christmas this year: something planned well before Mom died in September, but worked out just fine for me. I’ve not been looking forward to the holidays this year; in fact I’ve been on the fence about whether to put up the tree at all. But it’s up. It’s artificial, and there’s no cats. But I kept glancing out of the corner of my mind for Puddy. And Mom.
I miss you Mom, a lot. Especially right now. I think Christmas next year will be better.
