she’s a girl with glasses


Shortly before the end
December 4, 2009, 8:39 pm
Filed under: blog, other, Uncategorized, writing | Tags: , , ,

I’ve run out of the Christmas spirit.

To be fair, I had little of it to start with. I’m the type that likes the concept of holidays, then gets angry/bewildered/flustered/disappointed at the execution (see previous post about Halloween and imagine how much I had to drink directly thereafter). I am a perfectionist, and a planner, and also incredibly lazy. This is a hard combination to overcome or even make sense of.

Surprisingly, the issue this year has not been money, despite me losing my day job. The husband is working and I am receiving unemployment while I tread these underwhelming waters of non-jobs. I was nearly done with the majority of Christmas shopping shortly after being laid off. I have a handful of gifts left to purchase. I have a few things to make (and you know where that will lead, so I hardly need to go down that road. Suffice to say: buy stock in Salior Jerry rum and cheap red wine), and all of the wrapping to do, but that’s all rather controllable.

It’s the ritual that goes with this that I am now finding making me flail. Today, I spent 20 minutes trying to find a Santa to take my kids to. There were few requirements, but they were steadfast: early enough Saturday or Sunday that A could attend, was within a reasonable distance, and was free. This was harder than you’d think. Festivals where Santa would attend had him at his station in the afternoon, knocking them out of contention not just because of A’s schedule, but that beautiful, precious naptime I still require from M. I didn’t look outside Denver, and so our options dwindled quickly. Mall Santas all have required photo packages, which irks me to no end. I have a camera, and two small children, and I know exactly how the photo will turn out: K will give her patented simpering smile that she does when called upon to pose, and M will look suspicious, if he is willing to get in Santa’s lap at all. I can make my own copies of these lackluster photos. I do not need to shell out between $20 and $75 dollars so you can give me a photo ornament of this event that will likely give me an eye tic for years to come.

Granted, I could skip this. Did last year. But this year, the children have demanded they SEE THE REAL SANTA. I’m exhausted just thinking about it. But I found one and we’ll be going in the morning. To a pedestrian mall. And our weather’s been topping out at 20 degrees during the hottest point of the day this week. Can’t wait.

This shouldn’t be enough to knock me right into the Grinch cave, sharing his bottle of rotgut and bitching about the Whos down in Whoville and slurring about their haircuts. I’m not that totally heartless. As it always goes, when it rains, it pours, and my family likes to do holidays up in style, complete with screwed up work schedules, birthdays slapped in the middle (K’s is the 20th and M’s is the 28th. They were both due on Christmas, two years apart. April is my breeding time, like a rabbit), houses and cars self-destructing, badly-timed periods, and even animals and relatives dying. Something about Christmas makes us want to be the ones dragging our fingernails along the blackboard and this year is no exception. It’s got me back on my idea of becoming a recreational alcoholic and, I’ll admit, having a special coaster for wine on my desk might encourage this… misconception.

In the midst of this, the NOD ™ has languished and, in a fit of hormonally- and pine-induced rage, I have declared it will be complete next Friday. I don’t know, entirely, why I’ve declared this, but it has something to do with the aforementioned wine, a Canadian actor and a never-ending pile of laundry. My declaration, however, does box me into a corner which, with my personality, I most definitely need.

And so I make it official here: I will have the NOD ™ completed by 11:59PM Friday, December 11th. I will post with the note that it has finally allowed me to call THE END. My reward has been presented to me like a carrot dangling from a stick by the husband, who has been unrelenting in his nagging support: an overnight at a bed and breakfast at some hot springs. I’m an easy sell and I want to feel accomplished in my time there, before my unoriginal holiday angst swallows me whole again.

Until next Friday…

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