When I started this post it was not quite the New Year. However, by the time you are able to read this post, most of us will be almost several hours one day into it. And I swear on my treasured stash of Playtex Pearl Super Plus Tampons (nearly impossible to find, anywhere), that I started this post on December 31. Hence, this is the last post of 2008, for me.

I'm not really sure why this delineation would matter to you, or me. In fact, I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter to you at all, except that you wish I would just get on with it, already.

But it does matter. To me.

You see, over the next few days I hope to clean out my Thought Stash by blogging from it. Directly. And that above-mentioned, seemingly banal boundary of time plays an important role in this plan; as a marker for my time/space/relevance-challenged brain. Like a You Are Here sign, for my noggin.

But before we delve into the heavily burdened, dark recesses of my cognitive playground (a la Abyss and Costello), I believe some lighter post foreplay is in order. ::Confession: I have no idea when my New Year's Day post will be posted, what it will be about, or how much it will weigh. [Remember, it's still just New Year's Eve. Just play along. k?]::

Holiday Re-Wrap



Christmas was good. I'll save you the dramatic blow-by-blows, but through the magic of familial dysfunction and with the assistance of my intra-family persona (she sits low, on the sidelines, watching, mouth shut.), I hosted NO Christmas parties in my home. I know.

This means there were no Christmas meltdowns. Seriously.

No. Really.

In fact, the only angsty moments I recall were related to putting up the Christmas tree. I always feel sad when I put up the Christmas tree. This is not necessarily a bad thing. And it's not as though I'm sobbing over broken balls or dripping snot wads on the popsicle stick Star of David. I just get a little wistful.

Besides putting up the tree, shopping and baking a pie, I had no other significant holiday responsibilities, so was free to enjoy the gaiety of the season in the following ways...

(Watch Intervention much?)

You and Me and a Game Named Wii
A huge hit with The Cakers.

I kind of like it too.

However, after watching Mii get the shit repeatedly racked/pummeled/bowled out of Mii-self in tennis/boxing/bowling, my delicate sensibilities are indelicately dictating the decision to watch from the sidelines, until they come out with a upgraded downgraded program, along the lines of Wii for the Pii Brain.

Favorite Wii Moment to date: Nearly piiing my pants from laughing during a boxing training session, called Dodging (or Dogging, as Cakers says.). In this exercise, the opponent throws balls at your head, at close range. The idea is to duck and dodge the balls, without being hit. Yeah. Right.

My head, somehow, ended up in precise sync with the balls. But not in a good way. What I found so funny/sad/sad/funny, was that I perceived myself doing a really good job, getting all bobbing and ducking and dodging and shit. Yet, somehow, I managed to place my noggin directly in the line of fire for almost every toss. Ball after ball. After ball.

Least Favorite Wii Moment to date: On the Pets Sportz game I could not figure out how to open the hand icon, so I could pet my new German Shepard puppy, Tater. I could only poke him in the eye with the pointer finger, while poor Tater whined and whimpered in confusion.

Overtaken by the raw exposure to her mother's apparently significant limitations, Cakers finally said "Mom. I'm not trying to mean or anything, but you're not very good at this."

That's right honey. Your lame ass momma can't fuckin' fake pet a fuckin' fake puppy.

I'm kind of afraid to check on Tater. Without a mother's love and nurturance, chances are he's gone feral. Or worse...Oh Gawd. I hope I wasn't supposed to feed him.

In the meantime, I may need to see someone about the sudden and irrepressible urges to hit miiself about the face with a ball racquet. This likely stems from a traumatic event in college, where I smacked myself in the face with a racquetball racquet, nearly knocking myself down. I think the recent exposure the violent Wii imagery has aggravated the traumatic memories.

I See a Couch Lumpectomy in My Future.
The College Boy, he surprised me a couple times. To the good.

The first pleasant surprise was that he bought me a Christmas present into which he appeared to put special thought. Not that his selection of gifts for me has ever been bad or disappointing, but he usually sticks close to the list, and asks me directions for the shortest, easiest path to getting it done.

Anyway. I asked for a medium sized serving dish, for veggies or side dishes. The specs included smaller than a casserole, bigger than a soup bowl.

Expecting something in white or clear glass from the Pyrex family, I was mightily amazed to feast my eyes upon this:



Here's a close-up of my favorite part:



He gave me two of them. It was so cute how excited he was about this present and beamed with pride at my surprise and glee upon opening the box. I've used them for every prepared meal since Christmas Day. I Lurve Them. Very Much.

Other odd behavioral occurrences include his making a date with Cakers to watch Wall-E and following through. After the movie, we all played a round of Yahtzee, on his idea.

But the biggest event of wonder is that he spent $20.00 on a ticket to a big New Year's Eve bash that is taking place right now (snort) in downtown My Town. ::Hey, it's yesterday somewhere, right?::

I realize this may sound a bit confusing, as to why a mother would be excited at what appears to be fiscal irresponsibility on the part of her adult offspring. You see, my son is not like the other boys in that when it comes to getting out and doing things, he prefers to get his getting out right at home. In this way he is a lot like his father, who is, putting it nicely, a saver. I have a few other ways of putting it, one of which involves doing a physical impression of a puckery orifice reluctantly expressing a beloved object. It's actually pretty funny...but I guess you had to be there.

Of course, saving is good. But not, I believe, at the expense of a life void of spontaneity, healthy recreation and satisfying relationships. Over the past couple of years, I have worried about my son slipping into some of his father's more rigid principles for living. ::Live small. Exercise in between.:: And not only did he spend the money on something fun and frivolous, he did not utter a peep of financial concern or complain of any, ahem, physical symptoms.

On all those positive notes, I'm going to let this annual shot of College Boy Wearing Shorts under Arctic Conditions go, without further comment.



I Can't Believe I'm Not Done With This Post. Yet.
Oh, but I am. Done.

So I leave you with a shot of my little Sugar Cakers, in full winter regalia.



In the meantime, you're just going to have to wait until tomorrow (Whenever that is. Heh.), for the rest of the story. And hey, as soon as you get that story, could you do me a favor and let me know what it is?

thanks.

Wishing you a big, fat, happy, well-hung holiday.


...See you on the other side of the tree.

M.