Today is Boxing Day and, no, that does not mean you get to beat up your brothers and sisters. It is also St Stephen's Day and both days are lodged in my December memory bank. Heaven only knows why I remember St. Stephen's Day and all that I remember about him is that he was stoned to death. The whole martyr thing is beyond me but it was hammered into our psyches as kids and so he lives there.
But Boxing Day? Boxing Day really lives! But, in reality, it should be Boxing Month. Boxing Day originated as a time when the wealthy in England gathered up boxes of things to give to their servants. The month after Christmas seems to be the perfect time to sort through, reduce, and reorganize all those things that surround me in the house. It's cold and foggy out there and warm and cozy in here. I am surrounded by the detritus of Christmas Day and, oddly enough, look forward to making order out of chaos. The fact that I still have 14 days off from work means that I can do this at a leisurely pace and that is always pleasant. Clean a little, read a little, clean a little, write a little, organize a little, nap a little. You get it.
Son who lives in San Francisco but visits in our town regularly had a brilliant idea yesterday. It entails reorganizing both my studio space and my gallery space (funny how what used to be the kids' rooms got renamed). He was gung ho to make the reorganization happen and gleefully announced that moving stuff around is fun because you get to go through things and reevaluate their usefulness in your life. I agree. There is something refreshing about weeding out things and taking donations to the library and the local thrift store. I guess it is the antithesis of Christmas gift giving and I like it.