by Phyllis McCrossin
As I’m writing this, it is Friday night. Ahhhhh Friday.
Before retirement it meant a whole lot of different things than it does now.
Back in the days of employment, it meant high school sports for King to chaperone.
For me, it sometimes meant a weekend off, but more likely than not, the weekends often meant work as usual. The news does not stop. Sometimes reporters and editors need a break. It’s called a vacation.
I recall the time the publisher/owner of the weekly where I was editor called me while I was on vacation to scream at me because of some travesty that occurred – yes, it happened while I was on vacation and had no control over the incident. I stood in line at DisneyWorld and listened for 20 minutes while I got my backside chewed via voice mail.
I should have hung up. It certainly took the joy out of breathing.
Yikes! I think it’s no wonder I cherish retirement as I do.
Friday nights now mean watching new arrivals at the campground. I don’t think many people have pulled in tonight. The trailer door is still open, so in addition to not seeing many people pull in, it’s fairly quiet.
That quiet will end tomorrow when our grandsons come to spend the night with us while their mother works.
Because there is year-round camping in California, campground life is slightly different from that in the Midwest. I’m surprised at the number of people who camp during the holiday season.
People like to get away. Many spend their weekends in the nearby deserts to enjoy riding ATVs through the hills. Others like to get away to the mountains for solitude and hiking, while others come to the campground where we are staying just to vacation.
Those of us who are here long-term decorate our sites. This year we strung lights around our site, but I’m waiting for the campground staff to tell us to take them down because King strung them from the trees. Probably not a good idea, and I get why they might not want the lights to remain up. It’s easier to let the staff tell him to remove them rather than me, as he and I will argue about it. Some battles are best left until necessary. (Yes, we’ve been married a long, long time).
’Tis the season and besides decorating our campsite we are enjoying holiday traditions that began when we started spending the holidays in California.
Thursday was our grandsons’ holiday concert. The school hosts the concert in the evening. Each grade has a specific time to perform – two songs. Parents wait outside the cafeteria/concert hall for their child’s class to perform. When they are finished (generally about 15 minutes) parents and children shuffle out and the next class and corresponding parents shuffle in. It’s nice. Watch your child. Leave with child in tow.
And now begins the countdown to Christmas. Packages are delivered and spirited away into our daughter’s closet to be wrapped while the boys are at school. Though they no longer believe in Santa Claus, or Elf on the Shelf,(they are in fifth grade) they still like to get up in the morning and look for “Charlie” the elf. I guess it’s one of those things they are not quite willing to give up.
My daughter and I are of the opinion they probably had their suspicions last year, but didn’t want to let us know because they thought we might be disappointed.
We will still make Christmas cookies for Santa. And I’ve already been making batches of Chex Mix for King. It’s one of his favorites. I often think to myself, “I’ll forgo it this year,” only to have him check the cupboards and say, “Where’s the Chex Mix?” Which is probably not as humorous as it sounds since he usually goes grocery shopping with me before the holidays to make sure the boys have more candy than is humanly good for them.
He could ask for Chex Mix while we are shopping together. Or I could ask him while we are in the store, but that wold defeat the purpose of having a tradition as simple as the Chex Mix conundrum, right?
I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season.
