Have yourself a merry little Christmas (in July)

'Tis the season to be jolly! Well, it's one day to be jolly, anyway.
The season itself starts, I would say, after Thanksgiving — though department stores and local radio stations would argue for said season to begin anytime after Labor Day. For me, the exception to the post-Thanksgiving/Labor Day rule is this one: July 25th. Or July 24th, if the 25th is filled up with reality, as it is today. Yes, today is Christmas in July; your average Monday in the middle of a Wisconsin heat wave — I'm at work, my gal pals are also giving it up for The Man, I've got laundry to do, bills to pay, and there's no partridge in my pear tree.





But yesterday — yesterday was a blissful Sunday, and there was, as Kermit sang, "only one more sleep 'til Christmas" (in July). So our very merry group gathered at my aunt's pool for some holiday cheer. Lounging in the sun-dappled shade, we found ourselves in a perfect little oasis — an oasis from the rushing, the drama, the worries, and the monotony of every-day-that's-not-Christmas life. Through the wonders of technology (and my lovely Aunt Kal who can afford to indulge in gadgets that are otherwise quite foreign to me), we had Bing Crosby crooning "Silver Bells" over the loudspeaker as we soaked in the few hours before twilight, sipping on Berry Weiss and munching Paul Newman's salsa.




As the evening wore on (and I tip my hat to Elwood P. Dowd for that little lead-in), we headed to Balistreri's in Tosa for some much-anticipated fried eggplant and a large veggie pizza (plus sausage, minus olives). The place was decked (the halls) out in its standard decor, which luckily includes garland, twinkle lights, and a general aura of all things warm and cozy. I dare say there isn't a better-suited spot for Christmas in July in all of Milwaukee County. It was, in a word, perfect (though we did have to generously salt the fried eggplant, and Erin felt compelled to pick the mushrooms off her pizza).




We rounded out the festivities with some McDonald's soft-serve — an event Erin and I were skeptical of. Why soft-serve when you can have custard? But we obliged our bargain-loving friends and (an M&M McFlurry, Oreo McFlurry, and a bite of a dipped cone later) were pleasantly surprised. I guess you could say we were soft-serve Scrooges whose hearts were changed all in one night. With the reality of desk jobs and Monday morning starting to seep back into our mindgrapes, our party went its separate ways post-dessert. Time for bed — time to dream of sugarplums and Christmas in December.






As I drove home, Judy Garland sang to me: "Once again as in olden days, happy golden days of yore, Faithful friends who were dear to us will be near to us once more." The tears came. I couldn't help it. Judy gets me every time. I thought about these dear friends of mine and how life never fails to make it more complicated for us to stick together. Next week, one of them is moving to New York City — and in a month, another is following. We've always said "I'll be home for Christmas (in July)," and although that hasn't always been the case (these girls are world-travelers), we've always done our best.





But we're getting older — this year showed it. What with all our conflicting grown-up schedules, coordinating this Sunday gathering was quite a feat, holiday or not. And in past years, we'd dressed to the nines in green and red, christmas socks, ribbons, jingle bells, and santa hat headbands. In past years, we've baked cookies, watched scenes from "The Santa Claus," and sung carols around the piano. This year, all we could manage was pizza and poolside. Judy made me long for the "golden days of yore" — when we were closer to being kids than adults; when we didn't have any place to be but with each other. It was an odd moment — my loving everything about our grown-up Christmas in July, but missing the kitschy, childlike magic of it all.



Deep breaths, Kels. Don't fear change. This isn't the end — it's just a new kind of Christmas. "Someday soon we all will be together, if the fates allow." Well, this year, the fates allowed — and by Baby Jesus it was good. At the heart of this holiday is a group of friends filled with love; come striped socks or swimwear, the love will remain. And that's what Christmas, even in July, is all about.