It goes without saying that Advent was different this year. How could it not be? Besides COVID restrictions, Sarah is now 12 and her idea of fun activities has changed. Santa's Trains at Look Park, one of my favorite events, was canceled, but I'm not sure she would have been up for it anyway. I think she would have still enjoyed Caroling on the Green, but it was a no-go.
Don's mom was diagnosed with COVID on Dec. 1 and died two days later. Though she was 93, we had hoped she had a few good years left. It all happened so quickly -- eight days from the time she started having symptoms to the day she was rushed to the emergency room, where she died hours later. We are grateful that Rachel, Dale, and Pattie were able to stay with her until the end.
The Advent calendar with daily activities that I created in 2013 lost its appeal a couple of years ago, so I decided to make a new one this year. Gleaning inspiration from the Internet, I wrapped the lids of a bunch of small boxes and purchased printable numbers from Etsy to glue on them. An old basket hanging in the garage made the perfect holder. I kept some of the more fun activities from the old calendar and supplemented them with small gifts. Sarah seemed to enjoy it.
We cut our Christmas tree the second Saturday of December, as usual. When Sarah put her snow boots on for the first time this winter, she discovered they were filled with bird seed. We have an industrious deer mouse population in the garage that Don tries to control with constant trapping.
Christmas tree farms in our area continue to experience fallout from the Great Recession, when they didn't plant saplings. Our favorite one closed two years ago due to lack of trees. More families opted to cut their own trees this year, and we learned that the place we went last year was out of 5-foot and 6-foot trees. Don searched the Internet and found another farm -- Wolfie's -- just up the road from that one, so we went there.
It worked out great. They allowed dogs, so Abby got to come along, and she was a hit in her Christmas sweater. A short walk and a little searching brought us to our perfect tree.
Back home, Don strung the lights and placed the star, and Sarah and I hung ornaments. We rearranged the living room in the fall, when we brought my new rocking chair home from the lake. The couch is now in the front window, where the tree used to go, so the tree went by the side window. Abby watched for a while, then sacked out on the couch.
The following week, we got about a foot of snow, which gave us all Christmas spirit. Our neighbor Ruby came down to play in the snow with Sarah and Abby.
As always, we made lots of cookies -- frosted sour cream sugar cookies, peanut blossoms, pecan sandies, oatmeal-cranberry-white chocolate chip cookies, and chocolate spritzes dipped in white chocolate. Sarah also poured some chocolate hearts.
The Saturday before Christmas, we watched A Charlie Brown Christmas -- the only holiday show from my childhood that Sarah really likes -- while eating homemade pizza. Afterward, we watched Zara Bode's Hunkered Down Holiday Special, an online event that I'd come across. It was...different.
Two days before Christmas, with the forecast calling for rain and temps in the 50s on Christmas Day, I stole away to the state forest near my mom's for some cross-country skiing. I'm always too busy with holiday preparations to ski in December, but, with undependable snow conditions the new norm, I figured I'd better strike while the ground was covered.
I love sitting by the Christmas tree in the evening, and my new rocker is a prime spot for reading and enjoying the warm glow of the tree. Abby is my faithful companion.
On Christmas Eve, we delivered cookies to our neighbors, family, and friends and had a Zoom call to open gifts -- the ones that weren't stuck in U.S. Postal Service pandemic paralysis -- with Reid, Rachel, Matt, and the Rodriguezes. We had to skip our annual dinner with my mom and the Huntleys because of the virus, but Don made Tater Tot hotdish for the three of us. After dinner, Don took Sarah's Christmas Eve photos by the tree.
There was no Christmas Eve service at our local church, of course, so we streamed the event from the National Cathedral. It was scaled back, with no congregation and a handful of choir members singing in masks. I enjoyed the sermon by Rev. Mariann Budde, based on Alan Jackson's song "The Angels Cried," which I'd never heard. I thought back to June when Budde condemned President Trump for his Bible photo-op that resulted in Black Lives Matter activists being tear-gassed. It was a fitting experience for 2020.
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