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| Christmassed out. |
I don’t think 25 year-old Keely would recognize 31 year-old Keely, nor her way of celebrating the holiday season. Nor what she considers totally par for the course.
Mid-twenties Keel would don her best grey leather boots and mod minidress for a round of Christmas shindigs that featured precariously balanced martinis/vodka tonics, extra lime.
Early-thirties me considers it a night well-spent if she gets an after-dinner dance with both of her girls (and maybe even her husband) to the sweet sounds of The Vince Guaraldi Trio’s Charlie Brown soundtrack. Any time I can bust out my mad Peanuts dancing skills is a gold star moment. Nora’s got the arm thing down. Zuzu excels at the floppy head part.
Christmas treats used to include the mandatory evening out at Emilio’s Tapas for the seasonal triumvirate of bacon-wrapped dates, baked goat cheese marinara, sangria pitchers. Lots of them. Lots of all of them, in fact. These nights would be late. Very late. Happily, cheerfully, sloshily late.
Mama K wears the same red hoodie (dating back to 8th grade, back when we wore things awfully roomily) to determinedly bake festive cookie-like vaguely reindeer-shaped things with her daughters. Even though she [most definitely] does NOT possess this skill set. Because two year-olds (and two month-olds) need this memory with their mother. This morning activity comes right on the heels of an excruciatingly, astonishingly sober, and painfully late night. The main players in this little skit included a slightly snarfy newborn, a little kid whose overnight diaper threatened to leave without her, and a husband who remained awake to bake cookies for his wife’s party- the one for reviewing the new ABBA Wii dance game the following night, obviously.
Business as usual.
One thing that has stayed- painfully- the same is the number of awful, annoying, and atrocious songs that are played in mind-numbing repetition on holiday stations. I mean, come on, Sirius XM- you have access to literally thousands of Christmas and seasonal songs. Yet I still hear this combo once an hour: Dominick the Donkey (hee HAW), I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas, and- more recently- that ol’ Spongebob classic, Don’t Be A Jerk (It’s Christmas).
They should just play Josh Groban’s O Holy Night and anything by Mannheim Steamroller/Transiberian Orchestra (whom I’m not entirely convinced are NOT the same group. They might also be Manhattan Transfer).
And this afternoon? It’s the traditional crafting of the Christmas paper chain while viewing Jeopardy.
I’m not even gonna pretend that one’s new or different.
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