Skip to main content

Decemberfest

One final paper down, one to go. And what am I doing? Stringing popcorn for the first time and learning that egg nog tastes better with a splash of bacardi. What a marvelous night. After such a strange couple of weeks, I was filled with such happiness tonight. My roommates and I, we bought our Christmas tree tonight and had Decemberfest.

Now the monthly 'fest is a time-honored tradition, begun in October of 2006 the month after I moved into the ministry house. Chan came tearing up to the attic of the house (the first one I lived in for three short months) screeching "OKTOBERFEST!!" at the top of her lungs. Coming cautiously downstairs after the invasion, Carrie and Chandra met everyone in the kitchen with autumn-flavored beer; it was a good night. And every month now, they try to have a 'fest, announced the same way each time.

After our newest month-old roommate Claire texted us and told us that a friend of hers was able to get us a free tree, all seven of us straggled over to Oakland Park Nursery to pick out the best one. Carrie and I were practically skipping when we saw the rows and rows of trees to choose from. The two standards were 1) It must full, but not so fat that it wouldn't fit in the corner of our living room 2) It must be taller than Carrie, who is 5'9". After picking out the perfect one in the far corner of the lot, the boys working hefted it over to their work bench and trimmed it and bundled it and attached it neatly to Claire's car. Picking out a wreath to give to our horticulturist cat-lady neighbor Pam, we headed home.

Picking the knots of the twine open and throwing open the door of the house, I watched fretfully as Carrie and Chan and Claire carried the unwieldy package up the icy steps (today was our first real snow - three perfect-for-snowballs inches). As Carrie and I awkwardly tried to bang on the treestand, Claire twirled the tree absently, making it harder for Chan to hold it and making it harder for Carrie and I to screw on the contraption. We giggled at all the innuendo and awkwardness of the situation.

Putting down the tree for a moment in the corner, still bound with plastic chicken wire, Chandra and Carrie screamed "DECEMBERFEST!!" and opened the brown bags on the dining room table. Once everyone's glass was filled, Claire had the honors of cutting open our tree, our Christmas-perfect tree. Everyone was bustling with some holiday agenda - Carrie and Claire began putting on the white lights, Beth made a wire contraption to hold our seven self-decorated stockings over our fireplace, Chandra and Genny went around taking pictures of anything moving, and Kim and I tried to stay out of the way. I sat there with my egg nog, singing along to the Christmas cd's carols and drank in the scene. The festivity and tradition, with my friends, my sisters. I can lose a little sleep to write my paper a little later; it's worth it if only I can remember these few hours for a very long time.

We took a picture in front of our perfect tree, a rare picture with all seven of us together. I can't remember if Kim was wearing her red flannel dog pajamas or not yet. Chandra put in Jim Carrey's "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" and cuddled up with Kim to page through trashy magazines; Carrie and Claire went out to fetch more Christmas lights and a multitude of candy canes; I worked for over an hour on a string of popcorn once Beth pointed me to the needle and thread; Genny went to bed because she has to work early in the morning. After Carrie affixed our favorite questionably-shaped gourd from Oktoberfest atop the tree for lack of a star, after the tree was covered in candy canes and enough popcorn string to maybe cover a fourth of the branches, I reluctantly ascended the stairs, wishing I could take the evening with me to keep in a shoebox to open whenever I wanted to be reminded of how good I've got it, how incredibly good.

Nothing profound. No life lesson. Just a memory I wanted to keep.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The First Stages

2 days ago I had a coffee date with the girl "in charge" of the house I'll be moving into this Sunday. Snuggled down in a sweatshirt over a white chocolate mocha during a drizzly afternoon we went over last minute details to make sure she and I were on the same page. As we wrapped everything up, she told me to wait and dashed to the car; coming back in with a polka dot gift bag I had only eyes for what lay behind the curled red ribbon tying the two handles together: two shiny silver keys. Inside the bag was a beautiful red journal and a heap of candy from all the girls to welcome me into the house, but I couldn't get over the feel of those keys in my hand with fresh cut grooves. I marveled at the sight of them threaded onto my keychain as Sarah Brasse's eyes danced from across the table. I looked up, feeling the warmth of the mocha spread from my abdomen to my fingers and toes and the ends of my hair. "It's real, isn't it?" I said. "It's

The Core Four

What a wonderful delight - the Core Four are back and typing about their lives. Nothing makes my day quite like reading a fresh entry - or two even! - from Tricia AND Traci AND Jans. Nothing compares. Especially Jans; that was what, a two, maybe three month difference between entries? It made me sad, but I checked as often as I thought of it. What a tremendous treat to click your link and find my name invoked in the first sentence - I'll be on a high from that for hours to come. To the rest of you wondering what names I'm referring to, check on my links sidebar; the three of them and I used to live in three different cities and two different states (now three cities and three states), and our little-traveled blogs kept us connected. These girls are the reason why I started writing a blog at all; it's hard to imagine that I once was the worst at updating consistently...now I can't get enough of it, and I run out of stories to tell (which is saying alot for me...) We all

Religious Musings...

So, getting the coffee went well. We ran into an older friend of mine and his wife there and chatted for like 20 minutes or something crazy like that. About life and church and odds and ends like that. But that meant an extra 20 minutes waiting for what Dave had to say. To sum it up, we sat down and tried to comprehensibly write the purpose of our relationship to get things going on the right track: in other words, we want to be less physical and more spiritually uplifting. Dude, even I'm intimidated by such a daunting task. But we want our relationship to be something good for the both of us; the purpose of a Christian dating relationship is to support and rebuke and encourage one another in the direction of spiritual maturity. And no, don't freak out and think I'm going Puritan on you guys or anything, I still definetely enjoy kissing and the odd harmless make-out session, there's nothing wrong with that at all...but it is a problem when the relationship is based on l