Okay, so I dropped the ball
Merry Christmas! Kindly ignore that this greeting is several days too late. Am I in time to wish everyone a happy Kwanza? I’m pretty sure I’m behind on the Hanukkah thing, too. So Happy Hanukkah, too. And may all your days be merry and bright. Though really, do we always want to be merry and bright? I, personally, wouldn’t mind a fair share of serious contemplation. But I’m just all deep that way. When I’m not watching reality TV.
Oooh, you didn’t know it when you started reading this, but the mere fact that I’m excessively late in addressing the holiday season will in no way exempt all of you from having to slodge your way through another of my idiotic holiday posts. It has already begun. And it’s too late to run away now. You’re firmly in my rambly clutches. Hahahaha.
We didn’t celebrate Christmas on The Day this year. We celebrated it Sunday, because Hedon and our daughter and granddaughter got stuck 100 miles away from home in the snowstorm which hit us last Thursday. They didn’t actually get here until Saturday, then we naturally needed a day of Santa anticipation before the big event, hence the whole Sunday thing.
After our granddaughter worked her way through the gift overkill (we did the best we could to control ourselves on the number of presents, but failed miserably, as you might expect), we cooked a feast and Magnus strolled down and joined us. The feasting was as out of control as the spoiling of the grandchild. A great day.
It was interesting to put up a Christmas tree this year. We haven’t had one in ages. When our daughter was growing up, we used to buy ornaments for one another to commemorate the past year. We always tried to choose ornaments which had some relevance to what each of us had done in the past year, or at the very least, some connection to what we were into at the time.
I hadn’t looked through these ornaments in forever, so it was quaintly nostalgic to revisit those tokens of past deeds. Quaint for me, anyway. I’m not generally into nostalgia. Guess I’m getting sappy and sentimental in my old age. Soon I’ll be complaining about how today’s Pop Rocks don’t taste like they used to. And shaking my feeble fist in the air to emphasize my senile outrage at the loss of tasty Pop Rocks. Excellent.
Hedon and I have tried many times to perfect the fist shake, but it’s a surprisingly difficult skill. It can’t be too hearty, or too menacing, and must convey the appropriate balance of impotent rage, rascality and general old-fartiness. Not an easy thing to do with a simple hand and arm gesture. We’re working on it, though, and plan to have it at maximum strength by the time we hit 70. However, Hedon may whip it out, perfected or not, by the time we get our first AARP mag, which is shockingly not far away.
Okay, I can’t blather on any longer. The grandkid is standing next to my chair, sucking on one of those candy ring things (which probably aren’t as tasty as they were when I was a kid), and staring at me with a “why aren’t you playing with me, Grandma” look in her adorable eyes. Works every time.
And oh yeah, Happy Holidays to you all from the Highway Hags. Hope it was all you wished for.