No Room At The Inn

In the center of my dining room table there is a Nativity Scene -- all the requisite figures of the birth of Jesus scene -- carved out of wood and hand painted. They are rough and simple wooden carvings from Poland I think. I like them a lot because they are so plain. My son helped me set them up on the table yesterday. We talked about all the figures -- angels, shepards, wisemen, etc. He likes to ask me all their names. They have lovely names I say, but "weird gifts" he tells me. Frankincense and myrrh are not on his Christmas list.

After this non-stop day where he seemed particularly hell bent on making a mess of my house, the figures have been joined by a small red Hot Wheels Corvette race car parked next to one of the sheep, a half-drunk bottle of blue Gatorade, standing quite close to Joseph and a stray piece of pepperoni from the pizza we ordered tonight within spitting distance of the baby Jesus. I don't know the significance of this gathering.