And so in good health and with the Grace of God, till next year!

I must, with relief, remark that as an immigrant to the USA and a complete alien to the way Christmas is celebrated here, after 11 years in this country, I am finally beginning to get it. A little.

Not that I am not Christian, for I am. And not that I am not from a Christina culture, for I am.

However, the complete abandon with with Americans lose themselves in decorating, present getting and wrapping and cookie-monstering (new word, everyone!) was and still is a bit something completely new to me.

Here are the 13 things I have learnt and I apologize about the stereotyping, but I can't help it:

1. As a whole, Americans love Christmas as an isolated case of a supreme holiday indulgence, not to be confused or linked with any other holiday. "It's the most wonderful time of the year." So, if you are not feeling it, you better catch up. 

2. The connection with the birth of Iisus Hristos (Jesus) is almost entirely not represented or widely discussed. There are stickers with barns, animals, Maria, a baby and the Magi. 

3. Gift getting and wrapping occupy the minds of almost all good holiday-makers and reaches a fervent pitch at some point.

4. The whole thing is freakin' superiorly overwhelming to the new-comers if they are from cultures where material goods are harder to obtain.

5. If your nerves are a bit uptight, you will probably feel frustrated to the point of crying at some point for you will be hopelessly lost in how to do it right for everyone.

6. The supreme moment is Christmas morning, when the presents are to be found.

7. No, wait, the supreme moment is when the children are to unwrap the presents and the parents are to take that picture (I did too).

8. There is something about socks and Santa Claus making the rounds and children being good.

9. There can be wild joy or wild disappointment upon the revelation of the actual presents.

10. Adults get presents too and will get offended if they do not, so you must, at all costs, get presents for adults too.

11. There are occasionally car bumpers here and there that say "Keep Christ in Christmas". The meaning of that statement remains elusive.

12. There are lots of campaigns and reminders about giving. You sort of consider it, but blinded by the time consuming everything else, it is easy to forget. Or maybe you remember you don't have much money, so you are the one to be given.

13. People put up intricate and captivating yard presentations that must take hours to install.

Don't get me wrong, there are plenty and plenty of believing people who go to church as well on Christmas, but this is not what this post is about. I am still trying to figure out if one can find God and understand Iisus Hristos in a church as a community and a physical place.

Faith is such a personal thing. And so is holiday-celebrating. Yet nothing has full meaning unless you find ways to connect with others, and the wider connections I observed were primarily over the above mentioned material processes.

For what the eyes can see and what the hands can touch is far easier for the body to accept and the mind to relish over that that has no shape or color easily discerned. Except perhaps with one's heart and in one's heart. Perhaps one's heart can see more than the eyes, touch better than the hands. As for my heart, it has felt tossed around a bit during this holiday season. It has felt it's a bit hard to maneuver around the isles full of stuff- cheap and expensive, made in China or else. It has felt that I want to give my daughter something "more", something that she can't have, except as a connection to that universe that holds the stars above us, where we cannot go, whose ends we don't know and never will completely on this Earth, whose sole proprietor, whose legal owner, is someone that extends far beyond our little earthly possessions, our proper manners and our holiday craze. Someone though, whose presence in every second of our life is essential. Someone, by the grand name of God, whose Son, you see, was reborn on Christmas.

We did too have a wonderful spirited time complete with a big Christmas tree, presents, lavish cooking and moments of surprise and joy. Yet I constantly kept discussing with my little one, what is happening, what is really happening, whose Birthday is it, is it Munini's Birthday (Munini is how she has referred to God and Isus Hristos ever since she began to speak, it was one of her first words), and what are we going to do for this Birthday, are we going to love, oh, yes we are, we are going to not just try, but love, love God, and his Son, and all that is good and great, all creatures and plants and tiny animals, and oh, yes all the stars too, all that is good and great and lives and breaths under Munini's Gaze.

Ever since Ava caught on this story of Christmas, she started telling everyone, and I mean everyone, from her daddy to baba on Skype, to strangers in the elevator, "Merry Chriscot" (could not pronounce Christmas completely). She still does it. To her it's still Christmas, long after the delivery of presents, and even as the lights are coming down, the joy of the birth is still present and I love that about her.

Letting go of rules, hoping, keeping on going.

The past few days have been intensely emotional for me. I purposefully rejected owning a smartphone for about a year, so I did not. I had a tiny little phone that took a sim card and was able to dial and ring, txt a bit (very difficult) and that is it. On Christmas day my husband surprised me with the iPhone 5s, Gold. It is difficult to comprehend the transformation that has happened in my daily life since that moment.

I want to fully describe the whole exciting gift unwrapping thing, but it's boring and I will not. Owning an iPhone however, is another matter. There is now 4 of us- daddy, little girl, mama and her iPhone.

The device amazes me. It is cool and slick, advanced and deep, close but with aristocratic dignity. All of a sudden, after years of being completely away from social media, I am instantly connected to so many people and things and thoughts that I am incredibly overwhelmed. At some moments my heart just can't take it. There are so many worlds out there that were simple beyond my reach because I had no quick access to them.

I have now signed the comprehensive buddies contract with my new phone. We are inseparable. My sweet smart husband remarked that "it is just a thing". And I love him for that. But oh, no. It is so much more than a thing. It is the whole world in my palm.

We go to bed together and we get up together. We capture moments. Like the ritual family reading of the Sunday paper above, in which we wildly indulged in merciless tearing and jumping on our bed bathed in sunshine for the better part of breakfast time. "Now let the wild rumpus begin."

Labor, labor, labor. New moon. (thoughts on the creative process)

I have been obsessing about the creative process lately. It is always like this with me – struggles and bursts of ideas lead to more struggles. I tell her "listen". "Listen ". But she does not. I spin in circles. We spin in circles. Good ideas come and go as if they were mere waves on the waterfront of my mind. I don't even notice them. The recipe remains a mystery, I must come up with it myself.

Caught up in this kind of circling, it is always a challenge to move because there are no tangible results. I dream of my own studio. But I know I will take her there. She will want to open everything. She will want to tear everything. She will want to spill everything. I will want to let her. Just like I want to let her do that here, and I do. But I should not. There is carpet. The carpet of our home. As the caretaker of this carpet, I am also the one to clean it.

As the day progresses, frustration and negativity bubble. Nothing is done. Finally we get dressed and go out in the freezing cold on the coldest day of the winter here at the edge of New York City. As we walk to the store and as I push the carriage through the slushy ice, its little wheels unable to take the friction of the frozen snow, I hear my daughter muttering something to me. "Louder, I can't hear you". She points up. I look toward the perfectly clear darkening sky, visibility increased by the frigidity of the air, to see the tiny sliver of a moon that must've just "risen" in the hour before sunset. It is the thinnest most delicate moon I have seen in a long, long time. Perhaps ever. Later I discover that the moon in fact was setting, trailing behind and shadowing the sun. What an elusive, tricky move, dearest moon. How subtly capable you are to tug at our deepest of emotions. 

Gazing at the wispy crescent, I stop to snap a picture as bewildered drivers pass by and wonder who is that mother who would take her 2 and 1/2 year old out at 10F and walk. But it all starts to make sense to me. Creativity will come. The project will come. The beauty of the moment softens the creases around my eyes. I let go. Productivity is present after all. The birth of the piece will happen. It'll come tiny and barely detectable in the grand scheme of things, announced by my daughter.

Eggs and glue make a moon and robots

Two robots and a crescent.

The creative process.

Finally getting Instagram rolling and loving it.

And here is a little collaboration:

Rain and Moonrise

Love,
Ava & Teo

Love this Morning

I love the mornings when 

we dance free not burdened 

by outside.

A girl and her grandma

We stand close to the alter in this most magnificent of structures- St. Nicholas in Whitestone, queens. I look at two people I don't often see together - my mother and my daughter. It is a powerful feeling. So many memories and kilometers simmered down to a precious now. Only God knows.