Yay! Found it!

On my work computer, I have a directory where I store the entries I'm working on in case of crash and other such computer nonsense, and, through my own laziness, have not cleaned out that directory in over a month. I was able to find a copy of the text from the November 2 entry and was able to rebuild it.

I feel so much better.

I spent the last five days at my folks' place and am heading home tomorrow night. I had to put in my two days a week at the office, and needed do all my Christmas shopping, clean the rest of the junk out of the old apartment and see some friends, so we decided it would be best for me to stay the whole weekend. That way, when I get home, I'm there until New Year's. I can relax, wrap presents, play with our new computer and be all ready for Christmas.

Snug as a bug, baby.

My mom put up their Christmas decorations yesterday. The tree, the little figures and Christmas cards, the little 'Happy Birthday Jesus' banner that my sister and I made 20 years ago and Mom has been putting up every year since, despite our pleas to make her stop...

Mom's also got all her baking done, and there are plates of goodies sitting waiting for fingers to come snatch everything up. Every year we've held an open house on Boxing Day, and Mom goes all out preparing for it. It's one of my favorite parts of the holiday, and I'm sorry I'm going to have to miss it this year.

All of her preparations reminded my of one thing, though. You know it's Christmas when it begins to smell like Christmas.

It's subtle, isn't it? There's the scent of the tree -- pine or spruce or whatever you like -- that fills the house with the smell of the season (Forget fake trees. They will never give you that smell, no matter how many cans of 'pine scent' you spray them with). The cinnamon candles my Mom saves special for Christmas -- the red ones you can hardly find anywhere. The freshly baked cookies, sausage rolls, and tarts. And on Christmas Day, the smell of a turkey roasting away in the oven with mounds of stuffing, potatoes, gravy... Oh man.

The "If..." collaboration project: If you were able to lend one of your five senses to a person born without, which one would you give? What would you forgo so another could experience?

They say that smell is the sense most directly connected to our memory, and I can tell you it's true. The smell of Mom's mincemeat tarts always transports me back to when I sat in front of the tree in my pajamas putting together my Millenium Falcon. It's a fun trip and it happens every year.

If I were to lend one of my senses to someone else, someone who had been born without the ability, so they would have the chance to understand, to experience what it is like... Well, I would loan them my sense smell.

It's not just the season, because everything from the smell of snow to the distinctive musk of the person you love adds and brightens our experience in the world. There's a rich and heady mixture of life in our air, and I would give them that chance to get to know it.

As long as I get my sense of smell back in the end, mind you.

Now I feel all Christmassy

What was that book?

So how was Christmas?

Take me home, big fella