Oh the holidays. They're a hoot, aren't they? Well, for some people they're a hoot, but like I've said in the past, there isn't much that I like about the holidays except for maybe Girlfriend's joy or that one hour or so when we're decorating the tree and taking out the nativity scene my grandmother painted for me. The actual barn-thingy that the figurines should go in either never got finished or died a sad death one year in storage, can't remember, but taking it out of the box that was used previously to ship wine in is always a highlight. Rediscovering the mustard colored paper towels all the figures are wrapped in is a nice surprise, too. Every year, one of us opens the box and exclaims: "To think they used to make paper towels in this color!"
And the next person always says: "And it's still in such good shape, that paper!"
But after that, the "I-have-to-do's" and the "I-should-do's" get going and then someone's looking at me as if it's time to cook pork three ways or maybe something really simple, like a two-day duck, and then I shut down. I'm done. Done. These are not good times. These are the days that I wish never came back. Shoot. The night before Christmas, I lay in bed and cried my eyes out thinking that if I finally went to church this year and listened to the children sing that my life would forever change and I'd never "have to," "should do," or "if-only-I-would do" again.
But this is my life and I chose it. Complaining isn't cool. I can't stand reading others' complaints. I don't even like reading my own much less feeling them in my heart. I guess I wouldn't be human, though, not having bad thoughts of some sort, once in awhile.
I suppose I can feel comfort in the fact that I'm not the kind of cook who dreams of spitting in someone else's food, because if I were that kind of cook, I'd run out of spit. Or, I'd have to drink a lot of extra water to keep up with all the spitting. And crying. I also hear there's this mouthwash that will keep your mouth moist. Mom used to use that when she was undergoing radiation, I think, or maybe it was chemo. Can't recall. I just know there's this mouthwash you can use if your mouth is dry. Not sure if it will help you to spit more, though.
I'm so happy it's January. That is all I can say. And after a good six weeks of angst, the kind that dwells in our house every year and stops everything in its tracks, finally, there's a little light illuminating the "play" button on our collective remote.
I'm going to hit it right now (well, after I have a final gift exchange with a neighbor in the next 10 minutes or so. Wait: I take that back: It'll probably be at least 40 minutes. She's always late).
Happy New Year. I, for one, am thrilled it is here.