I�m barely able to hold onto the Christmas spirit this year. I used to be able to summon the magic rather easily, close my eyes, listen to Bing, whatever. It�s becoming as hard to conjure as the feeling of high school, the sound of the meow of my first cat, the smell of my first best friend�s basement (although I do have this tea-tree oil facial scrub from the Body Shop that has brought that basement back). Yes, I'm finally joining the throngs of those who feel hurt-hearted around the holidays. Christmas was always a sacred time and place in my family. It was one of the few days out of the year when people would listen when I'd say, "Please, can't we be nice to each other?" It was the day when going to church didn�t induce slumber. The smell of the frankincense and myrrh, the pine trees and snow, dad�s cigar in the car, mom�s L�air du Temps or Chanel 22, Giulio�s restaurant on Christmas Eve where I would sit at the bar and talk to the bartender when my little red-velvet covered back got too hot from the fireplace at our table. When I was in kindergarten I was supremely peeved that this other girl got to sing �Silent Night� in the Christmas pageant without an audition so at Giulio�s on Christmas Eve I went around to every table and sang it. I was a ham. The last two Christmases have been hard, indeed, because my mom passed away right before Thanksgiving two years ago. But Christmas was still sacred. Unfortunately this year my dad has this �girlfriend� from Poland�I can�t explain her but I�ll damn well try. She�s like the drunken elephant in the middle of the room that no one is supposed to talk about. She may be ok deep down (I always give people the benefit of the doubt) but she�s divisive, she lies, makes inappropriate veiled sexual comments to my sisters and nieces, doesn�t want my dad to visit my mom�s grave, makes disparaging remarks about America, Americans� �America�PooF!� She�s tacky. Expensive clothes do not make one classy. I can�t believe my dad could possibly be with her after spending 41 years with the class act my mom was. My mom was graceful and gracious and had a beautiful genuine smile. When my mom smiled it wasn't because she was trying to get an angle on something or someone. She didn't like to argue and she was a good listener. Maybe after all that class he wants a little trash. Anyway, it�s a yucksville mess. She�ll give me a fake kiss on the cheek when I see her on Christmas and I�ll smell like her overpowering crappy perfume all day. I want my dad to be happy but she�s mean to him! And it�s all his choice. Anyway, it�s gross. I miss my family so much and it drives me up the tallest tree that this person's presence taints this sacred space of family and Christmas. So I bought her a book � �The Art and Power of Being a Lady.� I figure it will help her with her English and well, the rest is obvious. I plan to talk about my mom as much as possible. I�ll wear the diamond watch my mom left me to ensure the woman will ask about it�she likes to try to figure out how much my dad actually HAS, how much he actually gives us, etc. �Will your next house be bigger? How many acre?� she asked my sister at least 3 times. I want to tell her that if my mom were still alive I'd make sure I was spending Christmas with her and ask her why she isn't spending it with hers.

One good Christmas moment was watching the Charlie Brown Christmas with my boy, Brent, terribly late after a long night out at our main haunt, Charlie�s Kitchen (we actually got a Christmas card from Brenda, our favorite bartender, if that tells you anything). I cry big Alice in Wonderland tears every time Linus talks about the true meaning of Christmas.

I also had a nice dream that I sat down with my mom and asked her if she liked Brent and if she thought it would work if we got married and had kids someday and she said yes. Thanks, mom. She�s been in my dreams comforting me quite a bit lately and I�m so glad for that. It�s a good Christmas present.