December has hit us like the Mack truck it is and suddely everything is red and green and all lit up everywhere you go.
And if I'm being quite honest, I like it.
Now, let's slow down just a minute, here. I'm not saying I'm in love with Christmas. In fact, for the past 15 years or so I have been of the firm belief that people who busy themselves with maxing out credit cards, humming Jingle Bells 24 hours a day in a mall-soundtrack-induced fit, chugging eggnog (seriously -- drinking creamy liquid eggs voluntarily? I don't care how much bourbon is in it), donning snowman sweatshirts, and pretending all of this red-and-green twinkly bullshit makes them happy are Grade A homogenized lunatics.
I just don't see what all the Silver Bells and whistles are about. Christmas has always been an epic anticlimax for me.
But even in all my bah-humbugging, I have to admit that deep down inside my tiny black heart, I do love a lot of things about Christmas time. Eggnog? Not so much. But there are some things I can't help but love about the Christmas.
It's cinematic and it's quaint. Even in our high-tech world, this time of the year manages to feel old fashioned. And I like it. I secretly long for fireplaces bedecked with stockings, evergreens dressed to the nines, and marshmallows lounging in steaming mugs of cocoa.
And in spite of myself, I want to wrap this veritable blanket of festivitiy around my shoulders, take a nap, and dream of sugar plums cutting a rug.
At the end of the holiday season I'm always so exhausted. And it's not from shopping or caroling, I can tell you that much. No, I think most of the time I'm exhausted from actively going against the grain and hating on Christmas so much.
My friend Kelli loves Christmas more than Saint Nicholas himself (it's almost pathological, actually), but at the end of the Christmas season is she wiped out and miserable? No! Because she's spent an entire month being overjoyed that it's Christmas time. She's operating off a natural high (albeit one supplemented by all the drinking and carbohydrate loading one gets to do around the holidays) that carries her well into the new year.
And you know what they say -- it takes a lot less energy to be positive about something than it does to be negative. Now, I'm never one to listen to "them," but I think they might just have a point this time.
So why fight it? This year I'm reveling with the best of them. I'm going to take part in every piece of institutionalized Christmas merrymaking I can stomach (except for trimming a tree; there's already not enough room for me and my shoe collection in my apartment, so you'll just have to believe me when I tell you that there's no room even for Charlie Brown's sad little reject Christmas tree) in the hopes of creating a fun old-fashioned Christmas for myself.
And in the spirit of all this new giddy pre-holiday anticipation I'm feeling, for the next few weeks of this most joyous of seasons I shall present a sprinkling of seasonal vignettes for your reading pleasure chronicling my festive adventures in the hopes of helping you remember how merry and bright you feel now so that when January's $3000 Visa bill arrives it'll all seem worth it.
Coming soon: Part I: City Sidewalks, Smelly Sidewalks
Send me pictures of ugly people wearing reindeer sweaters: [email protected]
And if I'm being quite honest, I like it.
Now, let's slow down just a minute, here. I'm not saying I'm in love with Christmas. In fact, for the past 15 years or so I have been of the firm belief that people who busy themselves with maxing out credit cards, humming Jingle Bells 24 hours a day in a mall-soundtrack-induced fit, chugging eggnog (seriously -- drinking creamy liquid eggs voluntarily? I don't care how much bourbon is in it), donning snowman sweatshirts, and pretending all of this red-and-green twinkly bullshit makes them happy are Grade A homogenized lunatics.
I just don't see what all the Silver Bells and whistles are about. Christmas has always been an epic anticlimax for me.
But even in all my bah-humbugging, I have to admit that deep down inside my tiny black heart, I do love a lot of things about Christmas time. Eggnog? Not so much. But there are some things I can't help but love about the Christmas.
It's cinematic and it's quaint. Even in our high-tech world, this time of the year manages to feel old fashioned. And I like it. I secretly long for fireplaces bedecked with stockings, evergreens dressed to the nines, and marshmallows lounging in steaming mugs of cocoa.
And in spite of myself, I want to wrap this veritable blanket of festivitiy around my shoulders, take a nap, and dream of sugar plums cutting a rug.
At the end of the holiday season I'm always so exhausted. And it's not from shopping or caroling, I can tell you that much. No, I think most of the time I'm exhausted from actively going against the grain and hating on Christmas so much.
My friend Kelli loves Christmas more than Saint Nicholas himself (it's almost pathological, actually), but at the end of the Christmas season is she wiped out and miserable? No! Because she's spent an entire month being overjoyed that it's Christmas time. She's operating off a natural high (albeit one supplemented by all the drinking and carbohydrate loading one gets to do around the holidays) that carries her well into the new year.
And you know what they say -- it takes a lot less energy to be positive about something than it does to be negative. Now, I'm never one to listen to "them," but I think they might just have a point this time.
So why fight it? This year I'm reveling with the best of them. I'm going to take part in every piece of institutionalized Christmas merrymaking I can stomach (except for trimming a tree; there's already not enough room for me and my shoe collection in my apartment, so you'll just have to believe me when I tell you that there's no room even for Charlie Brown's sad little reject Christmas tree) in the hopes of creating a fun old-fashioned Christmas for myself.
And in the spirit of all this new giddy pre-holiday anticipation I'm feeling, for the next few weeks of this most joyous of seasons I shall present a sprinkling of seasonal vignettes for your reading pleasure chronicling my festive adventures in the hopes of helping you remember how merry and bright you feel now so that when January's $3000 Visa bill arrives it'll all seem worth it.
Coming soon: Part I: City Sidewalks, Smelly Sidewalks
Send me pictures of ugly people wearing reindeer sweaters: [email protected]
