Joe and I have each found a new show on Hulu to watch. And by “new” I mean new to us.
Joe’s new show is “Designated Survivor” with good ol Kiefer Sutherland. It’s not bad, I just feel like I have seen it done before.
My new show is “A Million Little Things.” I am only on the third episode (because someone is hogging the t.v) but I am already addicted. It follows a group of guys around who became friends under extreme circumstances. In the first episode, one of the guys commits suicide, and as morbid as this may sound, that sealed it for me. I had to keep watching.
Of course, I was unable to keep watching because I had to go out and help Santa make some Christmas magic. And Joe, well he is still watching his show.
In between cooking dinner and blogging, I noticed once again my damn cat was sleeping in my Christmas tree. I do my usual “BRYAN! GET OUT OF THE TREE!.” He does not budge. Seriously, Bryan believes I put the Christmas tree up just for him and him alone. He does not mind sharing with the other cats, as long as they just sleep under the tree, but when I dare to call him out, the little bastard rolls his eyes at me.
I have to wait him out. It’s like that saying “A watched pot does not boil.” Or something to that effect. So, I go wash some dishes, make a phone call, all while keeping one eye on Bryan. I need to wait for him to get bored and come down so I can evaluate if his fat ass ruined yet another branch.
As Joe and I are doing our own “Battle of the T.V” Bryan decides to get out of the tree and takes a front row seat to see who will win. “Okay, fine, you get the t.v I need to fix the tree!”
Just as I suspected, the branch that held my ten-pound cat is now bent, and I have a “hole” in the tree. “BRYAN!!!! COME LOOK AT THIS! THIS IS WHY YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THE TREE!”
Bryan takes this opportunity to go use the litter box.
I stand back and assess the tree. I have a few options.
Option 1~ Bring out one of the five other trees that I have in storage.
Option 2~ Rearrange my village that is under the tree so the now bent branch will lay on the steeple of the church.
Option 3~ Turn the tree so the hole is now in the corner and not visible to the naked eye.
After thinking way too long about the now “Christmas Tree Crisis” I decided to leave it.
As I was standing there, my mind kinda flashed forward ahead some years.
I am in Gracie’s home. I am sitting in a chair by an end table with a lamp, sipping on my signature drink of vodka and diet. I am watching Gracie hand an ornament to her own daughter. AJ and Vinnie are there doing the dishes from Christmas Eve dinner. (Well, that certainly is different.) Sofia is there as well, kinda dictating where her niece should place the ornament. Typical Sofia. Gracie tells her daughter, my granddaughter “Do not listen to her, put it where you want.” Sofia rolls her eyes and now takes over the distribution of ornaments. AJ comes in. “Yo, Sis, there is a hole in the Christmas tree. Want me to turn it?” Vinnie, not too far behind AJ, “Nah Bro, remember, this is what mom would have wanted. We are leaving it for her.”
And Vinnie is right. Leave the tree and its perfect imperfections. Because in the imperfections are where the memories live.