Some assembly required--yikes!

 

    

A typical computer tumbler

All of us who have raised children have spent more than one Christmas Eve—and into the wee hours of Christmas Day—assembling various gifts from Santa. My children’s father was not particularly adept with tools or construction or such, so the sight of him trying to assemble a child’s bike or trike was often enough to send me to the kitchen for another glass of wine. And then there was the year he built a life-size “house” for them our of oversize construction toys. Not Lincoln Logs, but I can’t think of the name. You’d know if you saw them—plastic tubes plugged into round connectors. My four children were properly awestruck by Santa’s construction abilities, and my lips were sealed.

We even see cartoons about parents, usually the dad, trying to assemble toys, but nobody talks about assembling Christmas gifts after the fact. This year I have two most welcome gifts that require some installation or, at least, figuring out what to do with them. One is a cuckoo clock. My mother had a traditional German cuckoo clock, and the children were always fascinated by it, though they were strictly warned not to pull on the chains. With the memory of his grandmother’s clock in mind, Jamie bought me a cuckoo clock, only this one can be programmed for many different bird sounds. First, there’s the problem of where to put it—the cottage is crowded, but it must go in the living area. In the kitchen it would get greasy eventually, and in my bedroom, no one would see it. So we’ve pretty much found a spot where it will replace a vase of artificial flowers.

A digression: Artificial flowers in my living room? The two Volkswagen Bugs I have owned in recent years (the current one is twenty years old this year) had bud vases in the dashboard—little tubes like you’d see in a science lab that you coud fill with water and drive around with fresh flowers. Maybe in Germany, but in Texas, they’d wilt in a day. So I had a succession of artificial flowers, including some Texas bluebonnets. Friends had given me a handmade wall-hung small ceramic container and eventually I filled it with flowers from the car. No, I don’t usually have fake bouquets—but this one has sentimental value. It will, however, be moved to make way for the clock. When Christian has time to figure out setting it, and Jordan has time to hang it. I don’t think it has any hangy-down chains like the old clocks which is a blessing with Sophie and also with my space problem.

The other gift—from Colin and Lisa—is a compost system, something I’ve wanted for a long time. At Thanksgiving when I was in Tomball at their house, I saw this stainless container on the counter and finally asked—it holds scraps to be added to the composter. The kids gave us two such cannisters—one for my kitchen and one for the main house. And I have a spot picked by the driveway, next to where we’ll put my herb garden when spring doth come again. My understanding is that it needs sun, so I think this will be perfect. Mary D. did tell me tonight that once the contraption begins to make compost, it makes its own heat.

Today Jacob huffed and puffed the huge box out to the cottage, where it has, to Sophie’s dismay, taken up her favorite spot to lie by my desk. I hope tomorrow to open it and fish out the directions. Obviously, I will need a lot of muscle help to put this together, but I am determined. The sooner the better.

Jordan is afraid the tumbler will be ugly in the driveway, but that seems irrelevant to me. Christian is worried about odor and a lot of work, but I keep assuring him neither will be a problem. Depending on how much we accumulate in the kitchen cannisters, they have to be dumped every two or three days—a three-minute chore. And they have a charcoal filter for odor control, much like my indoor garbage can. Since neither the main house nor the cottage have a disposal (long story), we keep garbage in cans. The cannister can’t be any more of a problem than the garbage can. I’m excited about using the composter, partly so plants will flourish but also so I can lessen our footprint.

How about you? Have you had to figure out where to put the wonderful things given to you over the holidays? Now there’s that set of small dishes for soy and wasabi to accompany sushi. They’re lovely, and I’ll use them for a variety of things, but where to keep them?

As I write, it’s late, cold, and rainy. Sophie has not been out all day, and my problem is to convince her the better part of wisdom would be to go now before I go to sleep. Sleep tight everyone. I always think a gentle rain is conducive to good, peaceful sleep. So that’s my wish for all of you.