'Tis the season

Wednesday 24 December 2008

Now that I have my licence I am the driver of choice for just about everything. I don't mean to complain. I don't mind the odd errand for milk nor even for taking good little Lisa to and from ballet lessons. But Princess Jessy tends to have needs-- a very full social calendar as well as seasonal shopping trips, and the request often comes in the form of 'You have to drive me to Bath and Body Works.' She does not ask Roger so much now. And so I comply.

Daddy has generously lent me the Regal for my use, but he is very clear that it is not 'MY' car and in respect for that I don't load it up with too much of myself. I have two stuffed blue-and-white throw pillows in the back seat which my passengers like to cuddle with and a nice little three-nail cross hanging from the mirror. A canvas beach bag in back holds anything else I happen to collect. It keeps Daddy happy and really I am glad I have an excuse to keep it clean.

Jessy and I, once with Rita and once on our own, have gone down over the big bridge twice in the last four days to Lynnhaven for shopping. Coming back the second time-- Monday, when it was freezing cold-- we were caught out much later than the curfew imposed on me by my conditional licence, but we had no problems and got back safely without attracting any attention from the state constabulary. Daddy scolded me for letting the time pass and for not relying on Roger and the dark-green Cadillac. At the last minute-- Tuesday-- I needed the opportunity to run up to Salisbury for a few things and so did ask Roger. It was odd, riding by myself in a driven car and having him open my door for me. I had on good jeans and a sweater and my Uggs and felt very pampered of course, but it was my first time actually travelling like that and I am sure I did not appreciate it to the fullest. At my request Roger pulled through McDonald's and ordered takeaway supper for me, and I suggested we just wait and eat it together but he declined and drove me home directly. As it has turned out I am grateful that I have had only to wrap and write cards today.

For some incomprehensible reason it has got exceptionally warm this afternoon. I did not shower till after lunch and sat up in my room in my panties doing my wrapping and cards-writing. The panties are new-- Jessy and I saw them at a cheap little shop in the mall and we each bought a pair for ourselves. Mine are bright green with red-white-and-black Christmas symbols, snowmen and candy canes and holly sprigs and so on all over them. They're cute. And I have on my new Christmas toe socks too, which are mostly wide stripes in green and bright blue with a white band round the top decorated with candy canes and which pull up to nearly my knees-- and actually stay up, too. In my room it's 72 degrees and outside it's about 65. There is a gentle breeze, which will certainly go more malevolent, and an on-and-off drizzle which is even gentler. I have one window open and can hear that old ocean, far out across the bay, pounding in steep white waves upon the bar. This is bizarre because on Monday we had a vicious west wind and temperatures in or near single digits. Every night till this one we have had ice warnings in effect all over the area and one of my friends actually slipped on some one night and slid her car into another car causing damage to both of them. The poor Eastern Shore is just not ready for this kind of stuff yet.

Mother was sly enough to send Daddy out for groceries this afternoon and then got me to help her move in one of his presents, an indoor rowing machine. Roger was here for much of the day and helped too. We hid the long narrow box in a closet in the basement and will bring it up late tonight. Most of the day I have been nibbling on chocolate-chip cookies (Gran's family recipe) and sipping hot cocoa or eggnog. Whilst I was online tonight someone commented on that term and suggested it be called simply 'nog'. He asked, 'Is there any other kind of nog?' So I looked it up.

I was surprised to find that with all my family's study in the 18th century we had never learnt this before. The drink dates pretty far back but its modern version is mid-1600s and came over to America in the mid 1700s. It was originally called 'Egg 'N' Grog' and sometimes it was mentioned that it was served in a 'Noggin', a roundish clay mug. So 'Egg 'N' Grog in a Noggin' was sensibly shortened. It was most often an aristocrats' drink as common people of that period never got to actually preserve or save milk or eggs. I was also surprised to find it has always been traditionally made with rum-- 'grog' in Navy terms-- for Daddy has always preferred it with whisky or brandy and has only this year, coincidentally, bought a bottle of rum for it. It makes a pretty heady drink, at least to my tastes, and after two this afternoon and two tonight I am pretty lightheaded!

It is very late now. We have all the stockings hung up and prayers said, and Daddy's traditional bedside reading of Clement's 'A Visit from St Nicholas', complete with silly commentary, has been done and those of us younger than 6 have gone down for bed. I am in charge of conducting Lisa down to see what St Nick will have brought us in the morning-- it is a strict procedure we always follow, in that everyone has to be awake and go down stairs together. J.J. will go into Daddy's room from the other end and we girls will meet them all in the front stair hall. The tree is down in the small centre parlour and we presume all the presents will appear there too.

I will say in here that our father adores Christmas for all its mystery and magic to small children. When we were at Lewes he devised, and actually tried, a mechanical device in the attic above Jessy's and my bedrooms which, set to a timer for about one o'clock, played a recording of bell and hoof noises and actually rattled on a surface so that you could feel it as though a dozen or so feet were prancing along the rooftop. It worked, but it was not loud enough to have much effect. He has also always been very clever with leaving subtle little clues about the house, such as half-eaten cookies, handwritten 'thank-you' notes, spilled ash or soot about the fireplace, or the occasional 'error' in replacing stockings or assigning gifts as though they were arranged by someone who did know us as well as he does. As children we really did grow up in a world full of wonders because he made it so for us. Lisa and J.J. now get the benefit of Jessy and me embellishing everything with our own tricks and our tales of Christmases past. I know that tomorrow there will be some surprise that none of us has expected, and one particularly sneaky father who always assures us, 'I never lie, unless there's a surprise, and then I lie through my teeth about it.' If I didn't know him like I do I'd still find myself falling for it all.

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