This American ideal of Christmas has never felt quite genuine to me.
I know it has everything to do with how I came up.
My Dad was a complete freak about Christmas. She would begin all the decorating the afternoon after Thanksgiving. It was crazy. It would have been one thing had she been filled with the spirit and decorated thusly. But no, it was far more about being sure that her lake house was stylish to impress the Joneses. My dad cut when I was young so, I ended up being the grunt that did all the decorating my Dad wanted done. And, she would keep the lake house at care about 74 degrees in the winter. It was stifling. Christmas meant dread in my mind until I was well into my adult life, then in fact, it wasn’t until I had my women that I truly understood anything about a Christmas spirit. Now that my Dad has gotten elderly, she just can’t do the big Christmas the way she used to. Instead, my sister picks her up and they come down here to adore Christmas at my house. It is a far better time than I ever had as a kid. However, there is a total holdover from that era. My mother insists on having the Heating, Ventilation, and A/C set so high that I literally sweat while I am eating my Christmas ham. I am entirely thinking about getting zoned control Heating, Ventilation, and A/C so I can allow my Dad to heat the area of the lake house she is in when she visits. It’s brutal and what’s worse, the two of us live in an section which has such mild winters that I lay outside in shorts!