Monday, December 26, 2005

"Little" Christmas

When my kids were very young, they used to wake up on the morning of December 26 and immediately begin crying because Christmas was over. Desperate-witted as I was, I used to tell them, "Oh, no! Christmas isn't over! Do you know what today is? It's LITTLE CHRISTMAS--the day you spend doing nothing at all but having fun and eating Christmas candy and cookies! Now, let's play one of our new games!"

My kids are no longer gullible and easy to handle. They're all young adults, with adult-sized problems. I'm looking forward to sharing the easy part of my grandson's life with him--the time when he can still believe in Santa and still be pacified with a quick explanation of how much fun there is to be had each day. He was only about eight months old this Christmas, which meant he was more interested in knocking balls off the tree and chewing wrapping paper than in playing with his new toys, but next year should be really wonderful for all of us.

And next year, I really am going to simplify Christmas!!! I'm going to get my shopping and wrapping done early so the holiday doesn't turn into a forced march during the last few days. On December 23rd, 2005, I had just finished my shopping and was busy screaming at everyone around me to get busy wrapping, baking and cleaning.

What had I been thinking all throughout November and December? Was a morbidly obese elderly man in a red suit with white fur accoutrements supposed to have arrived at my front door with gifts for everyone on my list plus wrapping paper and scotch tape? Were the nice man's elves supposed to have wrapped and tagged all of my gifts while I made coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich for my perpetually-hungry visitor?

We had to work into the wee hours of the morning on the 24th and 25th, and it all seemed so senseless. Toward the end, I was piling five and six gifts on top of each other, throwing a big piece of wrap around them and mumbling under my breath, "Go ahead, you miserable shits--complain about your gifts being wrapped together and I'll jump up and snatch your pointy heads bald!"

My own procrastination had whupped my heiny once again and ruined what could have been a very enjoyable holiday celebration. I had, once again, turned Christmas into Angry Resentmas.

Hmmmm...I feel a New Year's Resolution coming on.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Who's That Up on the Rooftop???

Who's that up on the rooftop?
Must be Mastercard,
Must be Mastercard Swat Team!

Well, here it is, December 20, and I'm in my usual shape for this time of the year:
--House torn apart...
--Six bags of flour, four bags of sugar, five pounds of butter sitting in the kitchen, waiting...
--Giant shopping bags full of presents making it difficult for us to enter our bedroom...
--No Christmas tree up, even though two little artificial ones are stored away in the closet...
--Mastercard smoking and changing shape...
--UPDATE--four and three-quarters pounds of butter waiting, one-quarter pound of butter (having fallen from the refrigerator) eaten by terrier. One greasy, burping terrier stretched out in the sun, eyes closed, reflecting on the beauty of life.

I try to keep Christmas simple and enjoyable. This philosophy doesn't work, of course--never has, never will. I'll explain more later, after I get back from the post office, the mall, Sears, Walmart, K-Mart, the pharmacy and the supermarket.

Sunday, December 18, 2005

Primary Pinelands Pondering

My oldest daughter has been blogging her guts out here for some time now, and I've enjoyed reading her posts. She deals with a full-time job (with attendant grinding commute), an under-one-year-old baby and a full homemaking schedule to round out her day, and she still finds time to blog.

My daughter also periodically reminds me that I haven't written anything in some time and that the Blogger venue would be simple to use even for the uninitiated. So, I guess I can yank my ample buttocks up off the couch now and again to jot down a little confusion from from the deepest folds of my brain for the amusement of my family and for the shock and awe of those complete strangers who straggle by.

My apologies to my family for embarrassing them to tears and my plea to the complete strangers: please don't track me down and break into my house and smother me and steal Aunt Rose's diamond ring while my husband and the terrier lie snoring and farting not five feet away.