by Mary G. Wockenfuss

Created on: October 16, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

"It's the most wonderful time of the year..."

Thanksgiving is over, the autumn decorations get put away and that feeling is in the air. The "magic" of the Christmas season. It's December and now families are finishing up their shopping for the last-minute Christmas gifts, shopping for or putting up their trees. Then come the lights, the decorations, the candy canes. The stockings go up. Carols are sung. Christmas cards and packages are mailed out to loved ones. Some of the presents go under the tree maybe a week early, except for the ones Santa brings on Christmas Eve.

Not in our house.

In our household, the Christmas holiday is too much fun to only stick around for one month. Our Santa chalkboard Christmas countdown stays up year round; once Christmas morning hits, it's back to "365 days till Christmas" or 366 this past year, as 2008 was a leap year and we are steadfast in keeping an accurate countdown. (As of this writing, there are 71 days left!) Finding Christmas gifts... well, that happens pretty much anytime between December 26 and days before Christmas the following year.

The music country, pop, instrumental, but all Christmas we pop into the CD player around mid- to late-August. And it doesn't stop until early in the New Year. I could spend hours just listening to Third Day sing "Do You Hear What I Hear?" or Amy Grant sing "Breath of Heaven". Not forgetting the favorites of "Silver Bells", "The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire)", "Silent Night", "Sleigh Bells", and lots of others. Only once did I hear on the radio and have never found it again Porky Pig singing "Blue Christmas". I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. "I'll have a b-blue Christmas w-w-without y-you..." If anyone knows how to find it, I will be ever grateful.

Now, not forgetting the tree! In years past, the tree used to go up in early December, then moved to late November either before or after Thanksgiving. But it wasn't until about four years ago when my dad, nearly bed-ridden with a brain tumor, wanted the tree up early. So by golly, we put it up. It was September, and it would end up being our last Christmas with him. Since then, the tree's been up September first. Except for last year, when we had to get a new tree after our previous one broke thanks to the angel tree-topper jumping in shame of the sorry state of the tree it stood upon. At least, that's the way we like to tell it. And no wonder: the tree tilted slightly forward like it belonged in Whoville, covered

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