The Christmas spirit has been slow to come to Grouse House this year.

Of course, there was the postponement of our traditional sojourn south to stay with my family in a warmer clime, and the delay of all the family traditions that entails. But there is also no tree in our home this year, the first season since we were married. Plain and simply, there is no place to put one. Too much auction, garage sale, and college junk scattered about.

But there is really no time, either. Last year's tree stood for weeks, and never got decorated.

And the cards have not gone out yet, because there is still a Christmas letter to write. And I'm sure we have news to tell, but how does one tell friends and family that eldest son is fine, he's just staying at home and doing nothing with his life?

My Egyptian Christmas lights are at least out and lit, draped across the office ceiling. And youngest son helped me get the outside lights up along the porch and on the aspen. To the pleasure of the neighbor across the way.

And the wife has added another burden to her time this year, a special midnight chorale at the Midnight Christmas Mass. Which has meant two or three evenings or Saturdays of practice every week for more than a month.

But as Deb wisely said "do Christmas and the feeling will follow."

So, Tuesday night was their final choir rehearsal. My Angel hinted she would like me to come to the Mass, but failing that, I could always eavesdrop on their rehearsal. They've been wondering what they might sound like from below the loft.

Could always tape it, for that matter.

So, 19:00 hours on Tuesday found us at church, the wife up above with the choir, me alone below in the darkened apse. The video cam propped on my coat, pointing boringly at the sanctuary with the little red light letting me know it was capturing the voices of the choir. And occasional directions from the organist, when I was too slow on the pause button.

And I sat there in the dim light, and pondered many things. No revelations, of course, but a nice, peaceful time.

Like driving along in the truck, only without heelers.

Although, my solitude was interrupted for a few moments as Heidi, the priest's Schnauser came trotting through and stopped to check me out.

Followed by the priest, who was friendly and polite, but had that "Do I know you?" look on his face.

Heidi, of course, fled up the stairs in the bell tower all the way to the choir loft, and had to greet everyone before agreeing to return and head outside for her nightly constitutional.

And left me alone again, pondering the ten stained glass windows along the side walls,

and the French crosses engraved into the ends of the darkened pews.

And occasionally I would wander around, listening from different vantage points. Catching only glimpses of the wife above, and the other singers.

And twice returning music sheets that fell off the balcony, landing with surprisingly loud rustles in the silent chamber.

The music was fine, but not inspiring. In fairness, they were not using the microphones, and were facing the organ instead of a congregation, and rarely finished a verse without stopping for some sort of correction or refinement.

After more than an hour, most singers left, only the soloists staying behind for a final run through of their songs.

I am ashamed to say, the wife was flat on several notes, and her voice broke on some others. And how could I say otherwise, when the proof was there on video? But she pointed out her voice was tired after all the practice, and her solo was early in the Mass. She'd be okay.

Now, in our usual hurry to get into town, the wife forgot her purse. Something I don't think she's ever done before. But that meant I had to drive home.

I detoured us to get a shot of the town's star on the hill,

and then the wife led me on another detour to the most decorated house on the south side of town.

(She did not, however, appreciate me putting the SUV into two-wheel drive and popping a U-ey to turn around in the middle of the street, rather than simply jockeying around like a normal driver.)

And once we reached the interstate, this was our view.

Yeah, that's our home town aglow there, six miles off.

'Course that's also normal, so to home we went, and so to bed.