I’M A CHEERFUL CYNIC about this time of the year. Not really a fan of all the seasonal hoopla, but I can see the positive in it.
So as my last blog post of the year, I’ll leave you, gentle readers, with 3 simple rules.
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1) PLAY NICE WITH OTHERS.
2) BE GOOD TO YOUR FAMILY.
3) MAKE THINGS PRETTY.
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AND WITH THAT, I say to you an Irish toast:
“Merry met and merry part, I drink to thee with all my heart.”
Merry Christmas & Happy New Year, everyone.
See you next year.
THE SETTING:
We’d be sitting in my dining room, marveling about how warm December is this year, wearing clothes in colors & styles that scream early autumn more than almost Christmas.
We’d be drinking oolong black tea, steeped in my blue teapot, served with milk and sugar, because while coffee is wonderful, occasionally everyone needs a cup of tea [and sympathy].
We’d be listening to an old Eric Clapton CD that I found in the glove box of Zen-Den’s SUV. Why? Because it’s Christmastime and Clapton is God. 😉
THE CONVERSATION:
√ We’d be chatting… about how this week, for the first time, at Susie Lindau‘s urging I watched Elf. Or more accurately, I watched the first half of Elf and decided that while the story is cute, there’s too much Will Ferrell in it for my taste. It’s not for me, but all of you other wackos people enjoy it. Please.
√ We’d be sharing… our latest accomplishments. I’d be saying that I’ve been sober for three months now. Considering how I started down this road by accident, I’m finding the experience enlightening. I’m not missing cocktails or wine AT ALL, although I wouldn’t mind a beer every so often. And maybe a shot of bourbon once in a great while. But overall I’ve come to realize that at this point in my life I don’t care about alcohol all that much. Who knew?
√ We’d be talking… about how Jon Stewart’s various appearances this week on late night TV [here and here] have brought attention to Congress’s indifference to extending the Zadroga Act, which, if reauthorized next week, will continue to give financial help to the 9/11 first responders. I’d mention that given my druthers I’d vote for Stewart for president because… SMART + HONEST– not to mention looking good with that graying beard.
√ We’d be discussing… whether this year we’ll be making a list of specific New Year’s Resolutions OR if we’ll go with a more general one word approach to self-improvement. Having tried both ways in the past, I’d tell you that, as an English major, my best successes have come from adopting one word as my theme for the year, thereby avoiding all ways to quantify my life– which for me only leads to defeat & despair. Keep it simple, keep it going, I say.
THE CONCLUSION:
We’d finish dri
nking our tea, notice the time, and realize that we both needed to get to certain stores on the other side of town before noon. So with a sigh that comes from being a responsible adult, we’d each get in our cars and go our own way.
But before we parted we’d hug and thank each other for the best gift there is, the gift of sincere undivided attention & conversation. Given to those people who make your heart happy and your life full. Like friends, followers, family & fans. In real life– and in the blogosphere, too.
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Idea for this post came from Diana at Part-Time Monster.
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[Make your own plaids, checks &/or stripes, in any color combination, like those featured above, by using Patternizer. It’s free. It’s fun.]
In case you were thinking I was just another blogging floozy, let me share with you, my gentle readers, the following conversation in which my wordsmith-y skills came in pretty darned handy. Score one point for Team Wife.
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HUSBAND, aka chubby hubby, getting up off sofa, declaring loudly on his way to bed: BE A SHARK, NEVER STOP MOVING.
ME, laughing: You look nothing like a shark. There’s no sharkness about you. I think you should say…
HUSBAND, trying to look stern: DON’T YOU DARE SAY IT.
ME, coyly: Say what?
HUSBAND, grumpy: Beached whale. Don’t tell me I look like a BEACHED WHALE. Or Santa Claus.
ME, sincerely: That’s not what I was going to say. You don’t look anything like Santa, you don’t have a white beard… yet.
HUSBAND, irritated, but curious: What were you going to say?
ME, smiling: I was going to say: BE A MANATEE, NEVER STOP GROOVING.
HUSBAND, sighing: Huh? I don’t want to be a manatee.
ME, cheerful: Why? They’re cute. And groovy.
HUSBAND, defeated: Because all they eat is lettuce. I DON’T WANNA ALWAYS EAT LETTUCE. Forever.
ME, attempting to be empathetic but failing miserably due to a fit of giggles: Yes, I can see that’s true already.
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Our conversation, more or less about lettuce, reminded me of this, my favorite Simpsons quote, which seems like the perfect way to end this rather ridiculous blog post about, of all things, lettuce.
Slowly our neighborhood is transforming into a holiday wonderland.
Those of us who don’t do Black Friday spent last Friday, a warmish, dry day, putting out holiday decorations. Everyone who I saw outside seemed happy, although a few people were mowing their lawns for reasons unclear to me.
But whatevs.
We never do more exterior decorating than a couple of lighted wreaths on two windows and a few nets of multi-colored lights on some bushes by the front door.
As for the inside of the house, we’ve gone with one skinny decorated Christmas tree in the TV room, a small jingle bell wreath on the hutch in the kitchen, an antique nativity scene in the dining room, a growing Amaryllis in the living room + a stack of cutesy decorative boxes in the foyer in place of fresh flowers.
EZPZ. And it’s festive enough.
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For the first time in five years we aren’t having a holiday party on the first Friday in December.
This means that we haven’t needed to move half of our furniture into the basement or garage so that our 50+ guests have somewhere to stand. We don’t have cases of wine and beer and other libations piled in the garage.
We aren’t running to the grocery to buy all the ingredients to make dips and create cheese plates. And we have not ordered even one plate of sandwiches or cookies that need to be picked up after 4:00 pm the day of the party.
To say I feel carefree and giddy this week is an understatement.
Not being a hostess rocks.
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Considering I decided that 2015 would be the year of the recluse, my holiday social calendar is delightfully almost empty.
To wit, I’m doing one special event each week in December. This way I hope to not be overwhelmed with travel and holiday attire and food + booze and Christmas-obsessed extraverted people who inexplicably enjoy this time of year.
Nope, this year I’m putting myself in the holiday mood by avoiding as much of the holiday hoopla as I can.
Paradoxical, perhaps. But that’s my happy plan.
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AND YOU, MY GENTLE READERS, WHAT’S UP WITH YOU THIS MONTH OF FORCED FRIVOLITY DECEMBER? TELL ALL IN THE COMMENTS BELOW.
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THE SPECTACLED BEAN 