We're still here! I spit on the Mayans and their stupid round calendar. I guess it's time to start Christmas shopping. I'd like to say I put it off due to the Mayan rumors or the winter storm, but I'd be lying. I cannot lie to you, my beloved readers. I'm just behind schedule. How did this happen?
The 2012 Not-so-Great winter storm Draco has come and gone, leaving us with a meager three inches of snow. Judging from the pre-storm media panic, you would have thought we were in the path of certain doom; in fact, my cell phone let out an earth-shattering warning blare at 3:48 AM (yes, you read that right--3:48 AM) to warn me that a blizzard warning had been posted for NOON. It scared the bejesus out of us. We'd never received a weather warning from our phones before. I still am flummoxed as neither of us have changed our phone settings. I'm telling you, that warning was LOUD and had a tone I had never emit from my iPhone....
....the wife sprung out of bed to see what was the matter, because out on our phones rang out such clatter.
The wife: "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?"
Me (falling out of bed, reaching desperately for my glasses and cell phone): "Dear god, I don't know! I think it's my phone! Your phone is doing it, too!"
Will someone please alert the powers-that-be that I would appreciate a warning like that if a tornado or violent storm is heading my way in a few minutes, but I really don't want a blizzard warning in the middle of the night for something eight hours from starting. Just sayin.'
It's three days until Christmas. That means I do indeed have to get a move on with my shopping. I did most of my holiday shopping on line (dear goodness, I adore the Internet), but there are things that (1) I've forgotten and now it's too late to order on line; (2) I changed my mind about and now have to get something else; (3) I couldn't buy ahead of time--think perishable; or, (4) I've just been filled with even more Christmas cheer and I feel a need to spend money that I didn't spend before the predicted end of time. I've also got some gifts to return--can you believe I have returns to make before the holiday actually happens? Poor MJagger. She's top of the must-return-her-gift list.
Now that there is snow on the ground and carols on the radio and lines at the store, I am once again reminded of Christmases past. I know I've blogged about many of them, recalling favorite memories, favorite foods and favorite gifts. I'm not sure if I have ever blogged about favorite holiday fights, but I think I'll skip those since I'm in such a festive mood. After all these years of couple-dom, the holidays are actually rather boring in a very welcomed manner. Christmas planning in the early days used to feature yelling and glaring, blaming and crying, silent treatments and hurt feelings. Now, as evidenced in the previous blog entry, it's all candy canes and gay apparel, only a silent argument now and again, only about money. Thank you, Baby Jesus, for bringing use peace and cheer for the holidays!
Back in the early 1990's, the wife and I decided to skip our usual bout of holiday angst by skipping town. We were sick of not being together for the holiday, so we scheduled a trip to a tropical island where we would finally have our first Christmas Eve and Day together. By flying out in the wee hours of Christmas morning, we'd be able to avoid the "who is going where on Christmas Eve" screaming match--we had to stay at a hotel near O'Hare on Christmas Eve in order to get to the airport on time for our flight. I will never forget that night because (1) both of us were feeling rather miserable that we weren't with our families; and, (2) the hotel had no heat. How the hell a hotel in the Midwest in winter doesn't have heat, I don't know, but we had none. They were nice enough about it but that get us any heat--"I'm sorry, but none of the rooms have heat." Since we'd only be there for a total of seven or so hours, we decided to stick it out. We were cold in a non-descrip, non-decorated, sad and lonely hotel room. It was a lonnnnng, very cold, strangely sad, mostly sleepless night, not exactly the way we had planned on starting our tropical trek.
Thankfully, we were cured of our holiday blues as soon as we exited the plan on said tropical island. It was a marvelous but confusing. After all, two Midwestern girls don't exactly know what to do with 90 degree temps on Christmas Day.
For the record, I must mention that we were slapped back into reality when we got back to O'Hare the day after New Year's. The day before we returned, it had snowed six or eight inches. Unfortunately for us, we were wearing shorts and gym shoes as we trudged through the remote parking lot. It's usually quite a feat to find your car at O'Hare after being gone a week--it's a much more harrowing event when you and your luggage are calf-deep in snow and all the cars are covered with a deep blanket of snow. Everything looks the same. We were literally knocking snow off of license plates in an effort to find the car.
Note to self: Do not wear tropical island clothing when returning to the Midwest in the winter.
This year will not feature a tropical island but it will feature heat. Lots of warm, happy, glowing, furnace-blasting heat. We are so fortunate in so many ways. We have family and a home and jobs and our health and heat. Too many others have only some or even none of these.
Many of "my" clients do not have family or jobs or health. They are accustomed to getting up on Christmas Day knowing that it is just another day. Santa won't be visiting. They will get up, take their meds, eat a bowl of cereal and probably go back to bed. They won't think to look under the site Christmas tree because they know there will be nothing to see....
.....Well, not this year!!! Thanks to a few special friends, "my" clients are going to have a much, much, much better Christmas than usual. Santa will be visiting them. They will get gifts. They will be mighty surprised. I'm telling you what--my hands are sore from all the wrapping I did. Fun gifts, useful gifts, ridiculously generous gifts. I received yet another call yesterday, this time from a friend wanting to give money or gift cards to the guys without family.....
...She cried, I cried, it's like a god-darn hormonal love fest around here. I can't wait for Christmas Day morning!!! I wish I could share photos but confidentiality demands I behave. Pooh.
Speaking of pooh (you didn't think I could end this blog on such a serious, heart-warming note, did you?), Mr. Hankey the Christmas Pooh has made his way back to my office. It's a big part of the holidays at work. Well, okay--it's a big part of MY holidays at work. My co-worker made me a Mr. Hankey in 1999 and he's accompanied me to every holiday since. I was a bit worried I had lost Mr. Hankey but I thankfully found him hidden in a locked filing cabinet in my office (while organizing my tampons, I kid you not). Mr. Hankey is a huge hit with the guys and they ask for him every year. I am the queen of poop, as you know--the holidays are no exception. I'm sure Mr. Hankey will be present when the guys find that Santa Claus has come to town. I'm going to put him in the tree, right over those presents, kinda like he's the Star of Bethlehem, calling them to the tree.
I end with a few of the lyrics from Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo. Don't worry--I will let you know how it goes with the guys when they see and open their presents from Santa. Until then, may you have an amazing Christmas and may your poop be corny or nutty or firm or....well, you know. Merry Christmas!
"We've all heard of Rudolph and his shiny nose, and we all know a Frosty who's made out of snow...
But, all those stories seem kind of.....gay....'cuz we all know who brightens up our holiday....
Mr. Hankey, the Christmas Poo! Small and brown, he comes from you
Sit on the toilet, here he comes, Squeeze him 'tween your festive buns!
A present from down below, spreading joy with a howdy ho, he's seen the love inside you
'cuz he's a piece of poo!"
If that doesn't warm your cockles, I don't know what will.
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