For the love of Christmas

As a kid, I used to love going to get the Christmas tree. My parents would trundle my sister and I up in matching coats, scarves, mittens, and boots and caravan with my aunt and uncle and their dysfunctional brood to some remote, windy, hill top farm to cut down our respective Christmas trees. My cousins, sister, and I would run from one tree to the next, each one bigger than the last, proclaiming this tree to be THE TREE. Of course THE TREE was usually 12 feet tall, seven feet across and wouldn’t fit on top of our car, let alone in our house. But that was what Christmas was too us– BIG and a preamble to a month of good food, colorful lights, flying wrapping paper, and loud, happy family gatherings.

As an adult, Christmas is BIG in a totally different way and the family tradition of going out to cut down the tree is just one more thing to do, one more thing to be squeezed into the schedule. So that now on top of working, going to the gym, laundry, and other banal domestic chores and errands, I must add writing Christmas cards, shopping, wrapping, baking, traveling, decorating, all while faking good holiday cheer.

Sitting in the car with my family, on the way to get the Christmas tree this year, anxiously jittering my legs, tabulating a mental list of everything to do, and asking my mom how long did she think this was going to take– I suddenly had a vision of myself trying to crush my own Christmas spirit, like a paper cup at the end of a party that I didn’t really want to attend.  It started with wondering more and more about how much of a difference can there be between the Christmas tree farm and the Christmas tree lot? Not much. And it would be so much faster to just pay for a cut tree and screw tradition. But why stop there? Fake trees really are more efficient, but do I really need a tree at all? Wouldn’t it just be easier not to get a tree? Because then I wouldn’t have to worry about decorating the tree and having to take down the tree in January, and oh January– the sweet, gray, cold, peace that is January! If only it was January right now– Agh! Stop it.

And that’s when I realized that for the love of Christmas, to just say screw it. Screw getting home early, beating holiday traffic, hitting the gym, and eating a sensible dinner. Get used to the idea that it won’t be perfect, it will probably be late, and that despite my best intentions and efforts, I will forget a present, overeat Christmas cookies, and be irritated with my family instead of feeling grateful and then feel guilty because of my lack of gratefulness and the aforementioned Christmas cookies. Getting a Christmas tree reminds me that Christmas doesn’t have to be perfect, organized, or efficient. I know mine won’t, but at least at the end of the day, I will have a tall, bedecked and twinkling Christmas tree to show for it; a monument to my love of Christmas.

A day on Sanibel Island

My idea of a vacation is to see everything worth seeing in a 50 mile radius of where I touch down. If there is a battlefield, a winery, a museum, an amusement park, or something completely weird and random like a park composed entirely of 18 foot tall busts of American Presidents (get your mind out of the gutter), I’m there and then some. So much so that when I get back from vacation, I’m usually more tired than when I left.

Not that I’m knocking it– it’s a system that works well for me. But this particular family trip to Sanibel Island was different. Maybe it was the smothering heat and choking humidity that Florida can still serve up in September, or maybe it was my growing list of “Things Gone Wrong in 2013”, but I decided a vacation of doing absolutely nothing was just the ticket.

By nothing, I don’t mean that I wasn’t up at the crack of dawn every day taking long walks on the beach, because I was. Or that I didn’t haul my camera bag absolutely everywhere with me– 2,000 pictures and counting, lucky you. But instead of driving to the Everglades, sailing to Key West, or touring the Ford/Edison winter estates in Fort Myers (does “winter estate” sound pretentious to anyone else, or is that just my upbringing?) I stayed on Sanibel Island and fell into a routine; one that I already miss, and that will be the tiny smoldering ember warming my heart during the coldest, bleakest, crappiest, why-oh-why-do-I-live-here, month in Pennsylvania, otherwise known as February.

So here’s a run down of a perfect, do-nothing day, on Sanibel Island.

Get up early and pick up some Tribbles, I mean, shells.
Sanibel Island is uniquely positioned in the Gulf of Mexico and is known for it’s multitude and variety of seashells that wash up on the beach. You think you know, but you don’t. Day one, you’re blown away and spend the day hunched over, filling nylon bags with shells, shells, and more shells. By day two, you have a kink in your neck from shambling about the beach like a zombie looking down for the perfect shells and the spoiled air of a 13 year old girl receiving wide-leg jeans for Christmas when they asked for bootcut. Agh! This Banded Tulip shell has a chip out of the bottom– it’s like, God hates me!

Bike Ride to Breakfast
Trust me, all of the major roads are lined with bike paths which gives you an opportunity to slow down and see the island up close and also makes you feel entitled to eat whatever you want for breakfast and if that includes a 16oz Mimosa, then cheers!

Lay About the Beach in a Listless Manner and Read Nonsense.
This is actually harder than it seems because of the aforementioned smothering heat, the yet to be mentioned sand fleas that bothered no one but me, and the Gulf of Mexico looking all innocent and enticing with it’s next-to-nothing waves and extended sand bars. Sharks, sting-rays, and jelly-fish be damned! I am jumping in that ocean!

Watch a thunderstorm roll in.
This is Florida after all, and what is a day in Florida without a thunderstorm or a sudden of deluge of rain to throw a hiccup in your plans? We had the last laugh though; as it turns out, rain doesn’t really interfere with floating in a hot tub while drinking a Margarita. Did I say cheers already? Oh, what the hell– Cheers!

Enjoy a fresh seafood dinner and take in the show.
My personal favorite. The only thing I love more than seafood, is seafood with a view of the beach. Our first night on Sanibel, my family proposed the idea of dining at an Italian restaurant while on the island. I’m sorry, but if I wanted meatballs, I would go to my grandmother’s; furthermore, I did not fly to Florida to eat Manicotti. Swordfish, crab cakes, BBQ shrimp, and fried scallops on the other hand... And what is the perfect desert other than a beautiful sunset served at your feet with a cold beer in hand?

So over all, not a bad day, am I right? Repeat for five consecutive days and you will start to feel like a human being who doesn’t need a smart phone other than to send “Na-nana-naa-nah!” pictures to all of your relatives and friends back home. Now as for next year.... I don’t know, “Winter Estate” and “Airboat Tour” is starting to grow on me.