I Am Not Hamlet

Today, by some reckoning (ours included), is the 12th day of Christmas. The chillen opened their last few gifts, the tree will become a bird shelter on Saturday. Life resumes a less sparkling pace. Epiphany is today too. I find the build up to Christmas (Advent) usually more enjoyable than the great feast itself (like Holy week is more "exciting" than Easter Monday and so on). I don't know if that's a personal failing or just a human thing. As I continue to grow up, I do take comfort and pleasure in the rhythms of the liturgical calendar, and I must admit that 12 days of Christmas completely beats the orgasm of one day, one hour of Christmas that I grew up with. Still. . . the anticpation somehow is sweeter than the honey itself. Now, how to celebrate Epiphany? Perhaps flashing?

12 days of bliss are almost gone. We watched It's A Wonderful Life Friday. And that ended our holiday movies. We won't start that cycle again until just before Halloween. The last of the presents were opened today. We had a parade with the Magi through the house. Now, we soak up the season of Epiphany and return to our regularly scheduled programming. My only hope is that at least a small part of that signal is jammed for and from my family. To end on a cliched note: "God bless us, everyone!"