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| Cousins are for hugging. |
Well, it’s officially the Christmas Season.
It was rung in by the Official 7.5 Hour Gridlock Post-Thanksgiving Trans-Indiana Commute Day (Observed).
Thankfully, Peej and I have been blessed by some pretty rockin’ travel companions. I think you’ll recognize the archetypes: One likes to read the entire time, occasionally stopping to inquire about snacks. Seated next to her is that one person who always dozes off for entire states, waking momentarily to announce that they’ll drive the next leg…before sleeping well into Ohio. Then there’s the gal who Just Has A Little Work To Finish Up, but still berates anyone who doesn’t acknowledge the stellar harmonies and transitions on her playlist. She also has to pee a lot. Finally, we’ve got the guy who has taken up the glove thrown down by I-65. And Is NOT Driving Too Fast, Thanks. He also has a positively Rain Man reaction to various townships’ gas prices. And will recite and repeat them with regret until the vehicle passes into a better county with even cheaper gas. WHY DIDN’T WE STOP!?
Thanksgiving itself was a whirl of fabulous meals (and meal reduxes) and insanely good pie (and redux plus a thousand), plus lots of lovely family- and an incredibly large number of Zuzu-holdin’ arms. I even took a nap. I got my Graeter’s and Skyline fixes, saw Nora lose her shiz with excitement over Cousin Time, and- awesomesauciest of all- saw my mother-in-law onstage in a musical revue. (Due to various Susannah-related constraints, I actually got to see a preview performance and had the whole theatre to myself. No big deal, just the kinda V.I.P. stuff I do in Ohio.)
And now, aside from a few moments of head-cold snarfiness (as a result of germy hands/toys, etc. shoved directly into my ocular cavities), I’m fully ready to embrace the holidays.
My Christmasness cannot be rushed. I’m a big fan of not celebrating one holiday until another has had its due. I realize I’m in an ever-dwindling crew of folks who do not care for Santa sales in August, but it’s something I really try to hold to. Among this is my (perhaps misinformed?) disdain for midnight or 4am sales on Black Friday. Why? Well, it’s because we’re shockingly wealthy. (Oh, P.J. hates that joke. I think it’s a rollicker.) Okay, the real reason is this: when I hear of people camping out immediately after Thanksgiving dinner, I wonder if they’ve done the math. For every hour they’re sitting in the cold, waiting to “save” money, is pretty much an hour on the ol’ personal time clock. And even if they only value themselves at minimum wage (which I do not– I’m downright six figures on the payroll of Me Time), you really hafta add that total to the items on which you’ve saved. I’d rather spend extra money than stand in the cold for even an hour.
Okay, I think I just gave my husband an aneurysm.
Besides, if Christmas feels thrust upon me too soon, I’m not really in the whole Christmas spirit thing. And if I’m not listening to fabulous holiday music and sipping a [large] peppermint schnapps on ice while signing cards and comfily shopping online, well then…I might as well just do an automatic transfer into each person’s bank account and call it a day. (“Five dollars for you…and five dollars for you…”)
But now I’m ready. And I’ve taken the ol’ WishBook and circled pages 4-271 with easily decoded margin notes for optimum toy purchasing. (Okay, only two people will get that reference. And they are both my parents.)
Fa la la.
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