It's over, people. Let's all do the happy dance around the sacred totem of the tripod.



Actually that's my husband and the Caker's enjoying some Christmas Morn Dixie Chicks. But the picture is also a decent representation of the feeling in my heart. When it's over. Forever. Or a year. Amen.

Writing the post-Christmas-cheer post has always been hard for me for several reasons, with the main one being that I pretty much kinda hate it. Yeah. That's what I said. I kinda hate Christmas. I realize that admitting to hating Christmas is akin to announcing an affinity for running over basketloads of puppies in parking lots.

But really, it's not as bad as it sounds. My hatred of Christmas is not pervasive. Nor is it an angry, rageful hatred (not usually anyway) targetting the holiday season. My hatred is primarily focused on the actual Day and is more of a slow burn, annoying, pepple in the shoe and sand in the 'gina and telemarketers-who-know- all-three-of-your-surnames-so-you-can't-say-"no one here by that name"-when-they-call kind of hatred.

An article about shopping the day after Christmas, on the front page of today's local newspaper had this sub heading: Invigorated by a day of rest and deals everywhere, bargain hunters fill the aisles.

Day of Rest? WTF?

Besides babies less than three hours old, teens,college students, the comatose or otherwise humanoid vegetative, who rests on Christmas Day? I want to know who these people are so I can meet them, and beat them about the head with a well heeled Bratz doll ask them how they do it?

Please Excuse This Interruption
Date: 12/27/06 You will notice that this post is dated yesterday. That is because I wrote the above portion of this post yesterday, on my laptop. About 9:00 p.m., after saving what I had so far, I got up from my computer station to perform some household tasks. My son then got on the computer and from there it all went to hell through Windows. XP. ::My son has some electrical imbalance that causes electronic devices to go crazy. We have recently concluded that he has the same impact on girls. And not in a good way. But we'll save that for the book.::

Long story short, my laptop is on the fritz, with all my un-backed-up Christmas photos on it. Except for what you see here. I really don't blame my son's misfired electrical impulses for this problem. I blame myself. For hating Christmas. So, no more hatred. From now on, I'm sticking with mild resentment. Promise.

Long post shorter, my original plans for this post included a historical chronology on the evolvement of how I came to be the Christmas Day Hater Resenter that I am. Unfortunately, there is no time for that now. The computer guy is coming here in about an hour to take a look see. So I have to clean the house. Or at least clear a path from the door to the table.

You see, part of my Christmas Day Hate Resentment Compensation Package includes my not having to lift a finger for 24 hours after the stroke of midnight on December 26. I know, Hatred Resentment is a complicated thing.

Before I sign off today, I will try to burn off a little more hater karma by sharing some lovelights from recent days.

This was taken during our Christmas Eve walk around the block.



For the record, Cheddar HATES seriously RESENTS it whenever we let Cakers hold the leash. Thus, the refusal to look at the camera.

Bad News Good News Christmas Tale
One bad thing about Christmas this year is that my son came down with a nasty intestinal virus that prevented him from being here for Christmas. He not only missed the immediate family celebration, but also my extended family party later Christmas night.

At our family party, it is a tradition that all party goers bring a small, stocking-type gift for each of the other party goers. These gifts then go into a huge stocking which is dumped at the end of the night and the gifts distributed to their rightful recipients. Each party goer is also supplied with a labelled gift bag in which to store said treasures.

We stayed at the party pretty late, so it was about 11:00 when a very tired Cakers was in bed. By the time we got through a quick Christmas story and hugs and kisses, her eyelids were barely staying afloat. Before I left her side, I asked "What was your favorite thing today?" Hardly awake, she immediately responded,"Holding my brother's bag of presents and keeping them safe."

This is a five year-old who spent entire day being showered ::spoiled rotten:: with gifts and attention, from a couple dozen immediate and extended family members.

This is a five year-old who, after all that center-of-the-worldliness, identified the best part of Christmas as a simple and selfless act of love.

I wish you all such magic.
And it's out there.
In spades.
Of love.

Labels: Christmas, Now You're Whining