With Christmas upon us, I’ll continue with sharing a couple more of my perfectly imperfect holiday moments.

A few years ago, my wife, son and I decided to pay a visit to the sheep that annually reside at Memorial Funeral Home during the holidays.

If you know you know, but for those that don’t, it’s a nativity scene with plastic figurines representing the main characters from that holy night. It also includes a small structure resembling a stable with hay, and … wait for it … Real. Live. Sheep.

It’s essentially a two animal petting zoo with a blessed theme.

On occasion I’ve tried a couple of different approaches to befriend the wooly creatures if they were being selectively polite. I’ve offered snacks such as raw vegetables and even brought our dogs to visit. The latter being the presumption that most animals would likely take interest in one another. Oddly enough, sheep seem familiar with canines, but not all canines are aware of sheep. So, to no surprise, our dogs just barked with lack of familiarity of farm animals.

On that particular visit in mention, the sheep appeared to be lacking holiday cheer. When we approached they turned their backs as if to say, “It’s the humans again. Just ignore them and maybe they’ll go away.”

But go away, we didn’t. We weren’t giving up that easily. We wanted to pet the sheep, but since none of us make a habit of carrying raw vegetables in our pockets, we searched around for something else to pique their interest.

Finding nothing more than Bermuda grass, we suddenly spotted a rosemary bush growing on a corner of city property. It was a Christmas miracle. We snuck over to the bush and plucked a few stems then returned to feed it to the sheep. They happily obliged as we pet their heads.

We then left and decided to walk around the neighborhood before passing the stable again on our way home. We couldn’t believe our eyes. One of the sheep was leaning against the manger in a sleep-like state. “Oh no!” I exclaimed. “Did we poison a nativity sheep with rosemary?”

We instantly turned to our smart phones for answers, but when the word combination of rosemary and sheep were typed into a search engine, we only received recipes for cooking lamb.

After frantically continuing our online searches, we found one lone study claiming that rosemary may have a sedating effect on sheep. I’m not sure what shocked us more, the fact that rosemary could possibly sedate sheep, or that someone took the time to make that discovery.

Either way, a Christmas crisis was averted. We nervously laughed at our foolish endeavor as we made our way home and while crossing main street, I shamelessly remarked, “I suddenly have a craving for lamb chops with rosemary.” Needless to say I walked the final stretch alone.

Happiness is funny like that, it lives in the absence of perfection as life’s little absurdities set us up for big smiles. I have visited those sheep a couple dozen Christmases and every story is the same, except for one. That perfectly imperfect visit with a dash of rosemary.

I’m a creature of habit and I live by routine. I have OCD so my daily regimen is strict and not to be trifled with. Just ask my wife, Shannon. She if anyone knows the fallout when my pattern is interrupted. Regardless, she lovingly throws caution to the wind and likes to shake things up.

Just the other morning she came downstairs while I was finishing my second of exactly four cups of coffee. I was on schedule and preparing to leave for work, when she decided to join me. Albeit a rare visit, but she needed to remind me about the Christmas gifts she’d made for my co-workers.

I won’t go into the details of exactly what threw me off from her simply coming downstairs, but let’s just say that I have kept the same quiet, solo morning routine for several years now, and it’s not used to interruptions.

Later I rushed into work and handed out gift boxes with a disheveled look about me. Surprisingly, my day went off without a hitch although my OCD would’ve argued otherwise.

I later reflected on the events of that morning. During that brief moment that Shannon sat with me as I drank my coffee, she laid her head on my shoulder and snuggled up to me. It was dark and quiet. The dogs snored cozily in their beds and the only light came from the Christmas tree in the corner. Nuance made way for happiness.

My routine may have been broken, but my life was imperfectly happy.

As we round out the holidays, I’d like to leave you with words from the great rap duo Outkast. “You can plan a pretty picnic, but you can’t predict the weather.”

Clay Bowen is a Columbus native who cooked professionally as a chef in fine dining for 12 years and appeared on the third season of Top Chef. He is also a licensed landscape horticulturist. Email him at [email protected].

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