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Sunday, January 03, 1999 By Barbara Cloud
So, was it good for you? Me, too. During the holidays, there's that rush, rush, rush to get everything done, and then there is "the day" and then the letdown.
That's where I am now. I don't want to remove the wreath from the front grille of my car. Is it really over?
I don't know about you, but I usually sit in a chair and wonder what happened. I mean, did I do everything I should have? Is there still a present to be wrapped, delivered, sent?
I never did find my Mickey and Minnie Mouse dolls from my childhood, which have sat on the mantle for more than 60 years. They are somewhere in my house.
I didn't get to all the lovely specialty stores I promised I would get to when I didn't get there the year before.
I learned some things, for sure.
For one thing, I have too many decorations.
How to part with any of them is the dilemma for 1999. All seem to have a memory.
Then there were the pleasant surprises.
A friend of my late sister sent me a beautiful flower arrangement with a votive candle in the center, and the card expressed she would be thinking of us both on this first Christmas without B.J.
My new neighbors, Lisa and Dave, brought me a box of her home-baked cookies and pizzelles, her first as Mrs. Shirey since they were just married last spring.
I learned the name of my new mailman when he left a note to thank me for cookies I had left for him.
It didn't start out well. I was part of the Pittsburgh International Airport madness two days before as I awaited my son's arrival from Florida. So were hundreds of you.
The flight arrived an hour and a half late, and I had gotten to the airport an hour and a half early just to miss the rush-hour traffic through the Fort Pitt Tunnel.
My shopping was done. But I shopped anyhow, to kill three hours.
But there he was finally, safe and sound, so how could I complain?
Well, I'll tell you how: The first of his two bags came off the carousel within 10 minutes, but we sat and waited with no information for another hour and a half, expecting the second bag to pop out at any moment.
It never did. So, he joined at least 50 other people in the line to file claims with US Airways, which was obviously having a bad day.
Drew was remarkably calm for someone who started out in Tampa at 11 that morning and was still in an airport at 9 p.m.
We finally met friends, Jacky and Charley, with whom we had spent many Christmas Eves when our sons were growing up, and we fashionably dined in Shadyside at 10 p.m., not the originally planned more civil 7:30 hour.
Like many others, my son still shops the day before Christmas and manages to surprise me, not only with the thoughtfulness of the gifts but also with his midnight wrapping prowess.
I need time. I start making lists during summer vacations. I change my mind a lot. I begin to wrap at Thanksgiving.
He does it his way. I do it my way. It works.
The missing bag was delivered to our house Christmas Eve, just before midnight. We think, but are not sure, the bag traveled to Denver before it arrived at our house.
It had a white Christmas.
My dried-out Fraser tree, by the way, has remained upright for almost a month, and while I am anticipating being up to my kneecaps in needles when I begin to dismantle it this week, it does look rather beautiful.
All trees, I think, are beautiful.
Our Christmas dinner turned out well, except that the turkey was done at least an hour earlier than anticipated so that meant five of us would eat earlier and that meant munchies with our champagne cocktails were minimal.
I had tried a new hot artichoke-cheese spread, and it was barely touched.
Timing is everything. We ran out of it.
My dog developed an infected paw two days before Christmas and is now on antibiotics. But, limping noticeably, he still jumped joyfully and caught discarded wrapping paper, none the worse for his ailment.
Our dessert this year was the best tiramisu from Gran Canal Caffe owner and friend, Antoinette, and we moaned delightfully with each bite of the rich Italian concoction.
Ahh yes, it was good for us.
There were lows in 1998. We all experience sadness, but holidays can unite us and inspire us to start over again.
The trick is to count your blessings and laugh at the glitches.
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