This was the first year that I really started thinking Christmas isn't fun anymore. We were just so insanely busy. And two days before Christmas I was at the doctor getting diagnosed with mastitis for the second time (ask your wives) and then in the doctor's office parking lot I got into a fender bender with an angry, cigarette-smoking, cell-phone screaming, beach-cabin dwelling woman. "I hate Christmas," I decided. "I'd rather it were April 29, Sept. 3 or some other nondescript time of year."
Then... all the planets must have lined up or something because it snowed in Houston on Christmas Eve. Do you understand what I'm saying? IT SNOWED IN HOUSTON! ON CHRISTMAS EVE! I told Julia to remember this because it may not happen again in her lifetime. I had been praying so much for the family of my friend Jennifer, who died in July. I like to think the snow was just for them.
So then I was fantasizing that the smoking, screaming beach woman and I worked things out. That she apologized for calling me a bad mom and we ended up joking and having a wonderful time together. That we became very close friends. And when people asked how we met, we'd laugh and say, "Would you believe we collided at a parking lot intersection two days before Christmas in 2004? Isn't it great how God works?" The newspaper would do a human interest story on friendship with an unlikely beginning. We would be a community symbol of peace.
But no. Her paint is on my bumper and she's sitting in her beach cabin, smoking and hating me. Oh, well. Deck the halls.