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I think I’ve mentioned my waning interest in Christmas over the past few years. After decades of being crazy for the holiday and decorating anything that stood still, I’ve reached the point where I write cards, put up a few wreaths and call it good.

The husband and I stopped buying each other gifts a few years ago as well. The love is still there but when you’ve been married as long as we have? It just becomes more unnecessary stuff.

Instead of the normal Christmas celebrations? We take a trip.

This year I had a two week getaway to the Berkshires planned and paid for. Snowy mountains, hot buttered rum, quintessential New England villages… the literal Norman Rockwell Christmas because we’d visit Stockbridge as well.

And then?

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This.

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Right before we were supposed to leave, the husband hit a deer.

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Only a half a mile from our house, at dusk.

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It came flying out of the woods and he didn’t have time to stop.

It was killed… and my husband limped home with a damaged car.

😰

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And then our vacation died as well while we dealt with insurance claims, tow trucks, mechanics and body shops as well as the first snow of the season.

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We could have cut it down to a one week trip but as bad luck would have it my husband’s previously troubled tooth picked this week to get infected, be extremely painful and now requires surgery.

Ho! Ho! Hell….

Last year we caught Covid for the first time which ruined our holiday plans, this year it’s deer and teeth.

We just can’t win.

😫

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(Photo of our tree from 2023, pre living room remodel)

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I’m dropping the tree photo because we didn’t get one this year since we planned to be elsewhere.

😫

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