It’s true. Time speeds up as we get older. It’s December 5th. Again. Every time I’ve ‘borrowed’ a brass hook from the hiding place in the mantel clock, I made a mental note to replace them before St. Nicholas visits. I’m quite pleased with myself for actually remembering. As if that offsets the fact that I put very little thought into what to put in the stockings and took care of buying at CVS on my way home from work. It makes me feel like a less than a loving and thoughtful mother. Not to mention a poor home economist, since part of the delay was to facilitate the writing of a check that could float (I hope) ‘til payday. (I’ve done worse, though. There was the year the only chocolate coins were pink Barbie coins. That was poor planning. And with none of the charm of the chocolate Maccabees I bought the year when I couldn’t find any foil wrapped elves or Santas.)
We are all invited to join our parish choir in singing vespers for the feast of St. Nicholas tonight. The cumulative effect of spending most of my work day completing the production of the vespers’ “worship aids” and then cobbling heartfelt stocking treats at a chain drugstore has me more in the frame of mind for vapors than vespers. It’s too bad Martha had to take the car to school tonight, because I think the vespers would do me good.
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