Part Two: the party.
As I have explained, probably once a year for the last almost twenty years I’ve been tell you these tales, this is a very old party. The same people have been coming to it since the second year we lived in this house. The first year, we had just moved in – having almost finished the house in time to live in it. G’s family was coming up from LA to stay with us for the holidays; some of them brought the carpet up with them. Up to the day before his parents got here, we’d been sleeping on a mattress in the den, on the carpet pad, trying not to lacerate our feet on the tackless strip on the way to the bathroom, which had ceased to function anyway because the pipes, uninsulated in the doorless garage, had frozen.
So we didn’t have a party that year.
But every year after. It started with good old friends we’d had for a long, long time. Not many of them that year – Beesons, Tricia, Hoffmans, Williams, Louks, Paynes, Kews – friends we’d known in college, from missions, people we we’d worked with in the studio, and one person who would soon enough help deliver our first baby. Over the next few years, we added to the list and pretty much topped off what the house could handle. The guest list has changed a little – family has come up here for college and then gone away again, giving up their place (can you believe it?). Friends have moved, ditto. But every year, the house is full to bursting, and the people who can barely wedge themselves into the living room too often sacrifice themselves in the game and wander off to wider spaces and the rest of the food. We hope to build on to the house sometime soon, and then we can add a few more beloved family without having to kill off the old friends.
And over the years, we have gone from being new and starting out to old and established. None of us can figure out exactly how that’s happened. The interesting thing about this group is that many of them didn’t know each other in the beginning. Thirty years later, they’re friends.
Anyway – the party rules demand that each person make a handmade ornament, wrap it and bring it, along with some fancy-dancy holiday food. Then we eat and talk and get raucous. Then we play the ornament exchange game (no weapons are allowed inside the house, and crying is against the rules). After that, we sing carols, talk and eat some more. And I write about this here because of the ornaments, because they are so cool, and I want to share them. My kids have watched this party all their lives; now they are old enough to play. This party marks the years as they have gone by. And ends each one with rejoicing—in friends, the beauty of Christ’s celebration, and the delight of laughter. You should make a party like this; it’s so worth it.
So I present to you pictures of this year’s ornaments, with commentary:
The first ornament comes out of its box, shimmering its very natural shimmer in the Christmas lights –
Ginger’s feather ornament.
Steve’s (Johanne’s) Christmas ham. Once rejected by his maker, taken up and given character by her man. What a story. And the dang pig looks just like Steve.
Marvin’s ornament – with a story. This was hand carved by Marvin out of the headstock of a – what was it, 1954? Martin D28 – that once belonged to Bob Dylan, much later to Marvin, and which was murdered by the baggage machinery at Ohare. The noble instrument reduced to this little disk, and brought here in hopes G would win it. Which he did. And no, they didn’t pay Marvin half what it was worth in compensation.
Hand carved by Bob, who always carves some show-offy thing. The green ball is free inside of its ornament cave. And if you don’t think it’s hard to carve something INSIDE of something else, try it. Gin won this one, all the way from RI.
Tricia specializes in “found” ornaments. Especially “found” materials that come from the mountains up by Sundance. This is a Rudolph with a button and bead hat.
This was my bird. G’s bird is different, but you will see that later.
Lori (how do you spell your name? Who knows how anybody’s going to spell their name these days? Lhorrhi?), not Lorri, made this little puppet guy with the sweet face out of I think Fimo or Sculpy?
Melanie’s Ornament Lady, won gratefully and with delight by Chaz.
Meridee’s felted baby Jesus.
Danny’s top. First try at turning, wasn’t it, Dan? Fought over fiercely by Rachel and Mel.
Lynn’s Victorian angel. Did Gaye win this first? And Johanne stole it? I can’t remember. Johanne kept getting robbed all night –
Terry’s (spelled that wrong, too, probably. How can you know somebody for 33 years and not know how to spell her name?) petite point. For scale look just above it – those are normal size clothing stitches in the purple. I don’t even know how the woman can see her own work as she does it –
Rachel’s lovely little stocking.
Johanne’s elf came with her own One Clear Voice soundtrack.
Ginna’s bird flew all the way here from the presently buried in snow east coast. C won her. I will steal her from him later.
Steve K’s annual wood carving. Except, we don’t actually know what this is. It purportedly started out as one thing, then turned into another. Dan thought it was a tuning fork; Chaz figured it was a Japanese bunny. It was also fought over fiercely and ended up with Rachel, who loves weird things. I think. Now I can’t remember. It was an ugly fight.
Debbi makes these beautiful little brass hung mobiles. Always perfectly balanced. The black sheep rests confidently in the shepherd’s arms.
The little white sheep gambols alongside.
Cam’s foam sheep, sleeping beside the fireplace, all hung with stockings. The fireplace is hung, not the sheep. And the sheep is not a penguin, lying on its back, thank you very much Dick. Dick’s ornament in not actually pictured in this group because he did not make one. Instead, he brought a See’s candy gift card, which is against the rules – but then Dick’s whole mission in life is to break the rules, especially at my house. So I am not showing you a picture of it.
Gay’s quilt wreath.
Lind’s carved spoon Santa
with detail. I have a collection of stuff he’s carved santa on. If I were married to him, I’d be very careful of the furniture.
I think Rebecca felted this bird. Oh, phooey. Now I’m getting confused. It was a bird sort of night.
And Brian’s zinc coated crane. I think I’m missing three. Oh, Chaz’s. Danny – take a good picture of it and schlep it to me, will ya? A nice close one. Chaz is sad at me.
There were several bums who came without gifts to offer this year. They are allowed to stay, even allowed to Kibitz, but only with the understanding that I may use them poorly in return, as they deserve.
And finally, the cast of characters:
C set up the camera and refused to use the flash, which I strongly suggested that he do, so it took me half an hour on my crippled Photoshop to turn this into something less (more?) than sepia. So now, you see a nice gradient from the WAY tuned down tungsten yellow right by the lamp to the nice, cool compensatory ice blue on the other side. But they are nice people, no matter what color they end up being.
A seriously intellectual group, too. I am hoping to include a link to the video C shot with his Canon Whatever (still camera) all night for Gin – if anybody wants to remember exactly what happened at any point during the three hours of the game??? Or wants to see what they look like on the net? Also fun for people who want to see what happens when a bunch of LDS people gettin’ jiggy on hard drinks like caffein free Coke. Like, I talk WAY too much.
And where, you may ask, were the dogs during this whole bruhahahaha? In their crates.
Fast asleep. Snuggled cheek to cheek.
Give me about fifteen minutes to get up the link for pt 1 and pt 2 of the party vid.
If I can bring myself to do it, the giveaway will be tomorrow.
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