Merry Christmas to the People In My Blog

So, there are often conversations here at Chez Spit, usually around about 6 pm, when Mr. Spit and I sit on the couch to talk about our days, before starting dinner.

Anyway, I can usually be heard to comment on something that one of you has been up to. I might talk about a good thing, or I might comment that someone had a rough day, or the lunacy of something (Jenn being maced, and Martha (God bless her sanity) painting her house scant days before Christmas).

And sometimes, if it is not a name that Mr. Spit hears often, or if I use your real name, and not your screen name, then Mr. Spit will look at me, with this look of apprehension bordering on fear.

There is a person, and clearly I know them really quite well, well enough to be concerned or sad or overjoyed for them, and Mr. Spit has No. Idea. Of. Whom. I. Am. Talking. About.

It's the nightmare of every husband, I suspect. Especially Mr. Spit who is probably better at relating to others than I am. So, after I have rattled on for a bit, I will catch the confused look, and I will tell him. There are 104 of you in my blog reader. It might be hard for him to keep you all straight.

I might call you one of the people in my blog. Alternatively, you might be abbreviated as "blog lady". You might be categorized, you might be "Hannah's Mum, or Devin's Mum or Callum's Mum". You might be named by where you live - she's the one in Wisconsin or on the East Coast, Alicia in Calgary, Glo here in Edmonton and Loribeth in Toronto. You might be Susan, who wants to marry me, or Excavator and Julia, who always make me think. You might be JuliaS, who is not the other Julia, and apparently has men get "touchy" in the choir!

You might be Jen or Trish, with the wee babe, or Antigone, whose Persus is taking his sweet time. You might be one of my engineering women, who work with things like Mango's and send me cool articles. You might be Jane in the UK, who works with the brownies. You might be Brown Owl, named for her mum, that went home to heaven this spring, and is busy with Gabe and her own wee Grandchild. For Sam and Martha, you are forever known as the people who send us Chocolate. Two Hands is the midwife. Some of you are now known as Toby's. We presently think Geohede is crazy for moving on Saturday, with Twins. You might be You might be JamieD, Carbon or someone else whose cycle I track as closely as my own, saying my prayers for you each month, and shaking my fist at God when you post about CD1.

You get the point. You are mentioned and loved and cared for and followed. It is my great good fortune to be a part of your lives, my tremendous privilege and honour to share in your world.

Christmas is many things to all of us, to some it is a time of wonder and merriment, for others, it is a time of sad and sober reflection, wishing the new year would bring them something different. Some will be glad to kick the old year to the curb.

To all of you, and yours, whatever your location or label,

Merry Christmas.

Mr. & Mrs. Spit
Delta, Maggie, Toby and Koda (and Gabriel in heaven)