There is a ham in the oven, and a bottle of sparkling red in the fridge. A small pile of presents rests near the bookshelf. A few Christmas cards are on the DVD player, surrounding the wooden shark that ever so slowly (you never see it move) revolves. Maybe it moves when we are dancing around the room. Maybe it picks up on the discs twirling underneath it. I just know it moves from time to time--even though it is still every time I look at it.

Tonight there will be luminarias lining Ridgecrest (a few blocks away), and we will bundle up and walk among the slowly moving children, dogs, parents and cars. Some people might be singing. There will be lots of lights on many of the houses. A few nights ago, after the big blizzard of 2006 (we don't get a lot of snow here, so the 4-10 inches was enough to freak us out), I walked around the neighborhood at night, taking pictures of the snow and some of the lights. I usually move the camera when I take the shots, making it a trippy Christmas.

When the ham is almost done, we'll cook up potatoes, asparagus, some rolls--probably opening another bottle of wine in the process. Our cousin is coming over, so there will be a small cadre of family.

A few weeks back, almost all of the family on my mom's side gathered in Manhattan, Kansas, for our grandmother's (mother and great-grandmother to others) 90th birthday. It was the traditional family Christmas for some of us. I even went to half a church service (the first half I was helping to set up the party) and sang along to "The First Noel." We came home with many bags of cookies and other sweets. Most of those cookies are gone now, as they have served as snacks for the last few weeks. But I didn't think about a dessert for today's meal, so the leftover cookies will have to do.

The trappings are all there. Everything people mention about Christmas in a secular way is around. The right wing columnists have been writing this week about evil people who don't want to hear anyone tell them "Merry Christmas." I've come to believe that the only people who are mad about saying "Merry Christmas" are the columnists who are mad that someone might not want to hear it.

I have no problem with Christmas, but it's a little lost on me this year. We say "Peace on Earth" ironically, because four years ago, everyone was beating their breast to invade Iraq. And we're still there, wondering how to get out or win or not look like idiots or something. I'm not sure if anyone really knows why we're there now, even though, to many, it was crystal clear just a few Christmases ago.

My band played our last gig of the year last night (Dec. 23rd) to a light smattering of people wanting to go out for the last time before they'd be ensconced in a family setting for a few nights. We played "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch," and it was well received. But it didn't seem like a Christmas thing.

Right now, the Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack is playing on the stereo. And even though I'll have a really good meal and get toasted on wine today, I don't have that special feeling I used to have. I'm mildly interested in what is wrapped up, but mostly because it's wrapped up and a mystery.

And I kind of wonder if everyone who bought a Playstation 3 to sell it at a profit ended up selling the thing. The classifieds in the papers have had a growing list of P3s for sale, and the prices have come down (from a high of around $1600) to about a grand, which is still 100% or so over the list price. Is this Christmas? Does anyone wonder why we spend so much money for such a small bit of happiness? A diamond bracelet? A new car? The commercials make all women look like high priced whores (have you seen the Lexus commercial where two housewives rub themselves up against a car with a bow on it?), and all guys know, if they want any kind of good time in the next week, they better fork out the moola.

I roll the story of the first Christmas around in my head, and I think, maybe the true meaning of Christmas is there should be free healthcare to all. Otherwise, we're having our babies in a barn. But I know there is something else. Something more than gifts and grinches, playstations and peanuts, songs and socks on the mantle.

Yes, there is something. Something is missing, and I'm not sure we can just get it back by wishing. By just hoping everything turns out okay. Because after all the wrapping is thrown away and the toys and baubles are forgotten, we will be back where we were before St. Nick ate the milk and cookies we left out for him. Before the decorations were hung and lights lit.

I don't have an answer for this. So I will have the ham and wine. I'll open the presents. I'll call family and thank them. And I will stroll among the lights tonight. Maybe, in all of this--the collective festivities of the day--I will find something meaningful.

Matt Worley wishes everyone a Merry Christmas.