Out of My Ice Maker

I think I love Christmas because everything ordinary becomes special. Houses are covered with lights. Mail is sprinkled with photos of people you don't see as often as you should. And everyone's spirit is just a little more giving, more open and full of joy.

Growing up in my mom's house, we couldn't turn a corner during Christmas without seeing Santa's white beard and chubby cheeks. There is more Christmas tradition in my mom's pinky finger than in most small countries. And so because of that, when it comes to Christmas and all the decorations, I've always felt the more the merrier.

Well tonight I think I may have reached my limit. My sister gave Josie and Owen a Christmas Theme matching game to get them in the spirit. And like all good gifts, they immediately started fighting over it. I immediately took the game away and put the memory cards high up on the refrigerator until tomorrow when they might have more luck trying to be human beings.

Two ice cream sandwiches and a popsicle later, Josie and Owen were up the stairs and off to sleep.

I came down to make myself an Arnold Palmer with the crushed ice, my equivalent of a dirty martini. I had been looking forward to it all day. And while I pushed the lever and watched the crushed ice that I craved fall piece by piece into the cup, I suddenly saw Santa, Rudolph and Frosty coming out of my ice maker. Pieces from their matching game must have fallen into the freezer, and passed through the ice crusher unscathed.

There was something about the holiday faces peering at me through my cup that turned me off to the whole idea of my beloved ice-tea with lemonade. I got a bottle of water instead. I guess there is a point where all the holiday fun becomes just a little too much. For me, that point, is when there is so much holiday stuff in my home that it is coming out of my ice maker.