In prior years, I’ve commented that Christmas sneaked up on me, but this year I have felt the rails rattle and heard the whistle blowing every day since Thanksgiving, as it bears down inexorably. Meanwhile, I’ve been tied to the tracks. Today I finally settled the last two out-of-town gifts and started thinking about getting something for the folks I will actually be seeing.

I don’t think there will be a Christmas missive from me this year either, both because I have no time and because I really don’t want to remember anything at all about 2020. I don’t want to chronicle it, I don’t want to retain any habits from it, I don’t want to count my blessings. I want to wallow in churlishness. 2020 Soaks.

Yet it’s hard to maintain grumpiness in Santa Cruz, with the weather in the low 60s under cloudless blue skies five days before Christmas. I headed to the funky gift shop Jones and Bones with the convertible top down, Christmas in the Ashram playing on KPIG. Later, my husband and I walked to Two Birds, a new Bookstore! 0.4 miles from our house! That’s just whipped cream on Paradise.

Most of the homeowners in our condo association went early and big on Christmas decorations this year. We went to sleep on November 27th with spinning and blinking lights filling our bedroom window, at least until we drew the shade.

In unit 3975C however, I’m the driver of the decorations, and I started yesterday, after a few days of mental preparation. How could I do something new outdoors, given that decorations have long been sold out locally? We have a deer, and I decided we should put it the eucalyptus tree in our front yard. At Christmas, a deer in a tree is plausible.

I enlisted my sheltering-in-place family and with the help of the ladder, it was quickly done. Here’s a rough idea, though the picture could be better. You can get an idea of the height from our front door at the lower right.

We patched the outside light display into Google Home with a 5:30 to 10:30 pm daily schedule. Later that evening, I asked my husband, Did the Christmas lights come on? He assured me all was working, I stepped outside to admire, and found Dasher hanging straight down from the branch, in all his lighted glory.

Ah yes, those Southerners, lynching the reindeer.

Instead of seeing this as a grammable moment, I immediately turned off the lights, reducing the visual range of the grisly scene. Then we retrieved the ladder and some paracord and secured Dasher more securely to the branch.

Christmas spirit restored? Or were small children traumatized in the interim?