Merry Christmas...for the most part

This year has been an odd one. I usually love the holidays. I adore the twinkling lights, the colorful decorations, the tree, the baking and even the shopping. This year wasn't quite as magical as I normally find the Christmas season, though. My heart just wasn't in it.

I blame this partly on the snowless landscape and partly on the fact that my dad's house, the one I grew up in, is in foreclosure. Things started getting bad a few months back when he retired. I'm not sure who is at fault--my dad or GM--but checks didn't start coming right away. In fact, I believe the first retirement check was almost seven weeks overdue. By then Dad was way behind on all of his bills. Once the checks made a reappearance it was too late. He couldn't get caught up. So the three bedroom ranch went into forclosure and went up for auction on December 22. My dad has no idea if it sold because he didn't go to the courthouse; my dad said the bank will send him some kind of notification through the mail.

So there's that situation. Not exactly cheery.

Yet, it hard to be totally blah about the season when you have little kids in the house. Santa is a big deal no matter what when you're eight and six. Their excitement and delight made Christmas morning a treat. We unwrapped our gifts and then played with them all day long. Everyone was delighted with their presents and eager to put them to good use. Yes, I did get that PS2 game I had asked the hubby to get for me. I'm terrible at it, but I expect practice will help.

In fact, after I put the kids to bed I decided to do just that: practice. I was halfway through the dance routine when the phone rang. I'm not going to go into what the phone call was about. Suffice it to say that if someone wants to ruin Christmas day and probably the rest of your week, a phone call like that one will do it. I'm angry. Sad. Furious. Hurt. Appalled. Disappointed. But mostly just angry.

I wanted to jump in my car and drive over there so I could confront the person slinging the accusations but sometimes that's just not an option. Not that I don't anticipate following this particular little play through to its end, I do. But I need to make sure I handle this the right way, if there is such a thing. I need to be rational and adult. Not enraged and goaded into saying or doing the wrong thing--no doubt exactly what the instigator in this little scenerio would love to see me do.

All I know is misery does truly love company, but this time a line was crossed. One I can't just blindly turn the other cheek toward.