12.24.03 - 11:46 p.m.

Christmas Eve was always one of the most magical nights: we went to church, came home and ate dinner (and I, of course, put the Baby Jesus into the creche on the buffet), and then put out mix and beer for Santa Claus - Santa always liked our house. I bet the beer was a nice break from milk and cookies. After that, I went to bed. When I woke up in the morning, it always looked as if the living room had exploded with presents. They went from nowhere to everywhere, overnight.

When my dad was a kid, his parents waited until the kids were in bed on

Christmas Eve and THEN put up their tree, never mind filling stockings, pulling out presents, and putting up the model train platform (which has, according to my uncle, a missile car with an actual missile one can shoot, a helicopter launch pad, and an ammo dump that blows up when you shoot it.) all in one night. That must've been the worst night ever.

We now have different traditions. For example, David puts the baby Jesus into the manger scene. After church, we drive around and look at the Christmas lights. Also: dad tries to build a fire and semi-succeeds. I make some sort of festive cocktail and semi-succeed. My aunt and my mother have a knock-down dragout. David plays Christmas carols on lightspeed on the piano, but misses every other note. My aunt sings loudly, and badly, but makes fun of my mother's voice.

This year, despite circumstances, we kept some of these traditions. For example, Susie got mad at Mom because Mom - who has been very sick, but is doing a bit better - wanted to go to church to see David serve at Christmas mass. Susie, therefore, stayed home from church to express her displeasure w/Mom's decision, or something like that. I just... cannot begin to imagine what was going through her mind. And, actually, I don't think that I would ever, ever skip church on Christmas Eve. It would be horrible, like holding my breath for five years, or dreamwalking through six months and waking up and wondering what I'd done for that time.

Church was hard, though, and I was close to crying. Heh. Throughout a lot of it, in part b/c my mom was crying at the beginning, and in part because my grandmother wasn't there, with her frail, rough voice singing the Christmas carols, and in part because I'm a self-involved, sappy idiot who couldn't control herself.

I had to cut Mom's hair today. It was so bad, it's so thin now, and it just looked awful. She wanted me to cut it all entirely off, but then we decided that I could cut it very, very short and we would see how that looked. It's better than it was, and better than bald, I suppose, though she's all but bald, and it's sad to see her like that, when she usually had so much hair.

That's something I'm getting used to, though, her hair, or lack thereof. It'll be fine, it's just muck right now, and we have to wade through it. It'll be fine.

I found a Christmas poem I wanted to preserve today, but the mouse here is horrible and is annoying me, so... maybe another day. Heh. It's late. I'm almost done w/my cocktail, and I think it's bedtime.

Goodnight moon.