2:12 a.m. Welcome to the busy time.

But at least we're going to be warm-ish and cozy-ish as I try to get some of the stuff done. Today guys with muscles brought in the new gas heater for the house, and pretty much got it installed.

I already know now that I will not get everything done. Already, it's time to start apologizing in advance because sheer logic tells me that postal workers will not be working round the clock on Christmas day. That's what makes the holidays so special, right?

Today, quite insanely, I ironed. It's something I've been meaning to do ever since we moved here a year ago, and there are pretty much no unwrinkled linens left. We also shopped for everything but the tree, because I never put the tree up until Christmas eve.

Usually we buy it a lot sooner than this, but one brutally cold year a while ago, we literally waited until the last possible minute, got the last tree on the lot, and still managed to get it up and decorated and lit.

So, not to worry, I tell myself.

I'm selfishly having a party, of course, because my entire family is on the other side of the continent and it would seem insane to put up a huge tree loaded down with tinsel and glitter just for myself and the bemusement of my Jewish husband.

But, in fact, it is insane for my not to have a tree. If I miss the moment, the one and only moment in the entire year when magic could happen (if you're properly prepared), then I mope for the rest of the winter over the lost opportunity.

You realize, of course, what I'm telling you, don't you?

Yup. I still believe in Santa. Yup yup.

I can't help it. I think there is a cosmic opening, a tiny breach ... sometime around midnight on Christmas Eve ...

There is a softness in the air, if you stop and try to sense it. A great expectation. It's as if the night is quivering, waiting. It's half the big equation.

I half expect to look up at the stars and see one that is brighter. I half expect to look under the tree and see a present that wasn't there before. A trail of cookie crumbs leading up to the chimney. The ghostly sound of bells on the wind.

I know one thing -- I know I don't know everything. So anything's possible ... as long as you have your tree up and smartly decorated.

So much to do -- so little time. See you (and maybe him!) tomorrow.