Oh, right. I have a blog. Hi, there! Y'all haven't been waiting here long, have you?
See, here's the thing: I write for a living, more or less, and for the last... let's say, month or so, I've been ridiculously behind on my work. It's kind of hard for me to write recreationally when I have not yet done the writing that people actually pay me to do. My little internal editor tells me, "Listen, bub, if you're gonna be turning out copy, how about those drafts that were due two weeks ago?" (My little internal editor wears shirtsleeves and a green eye-shade and is always chomping on a cigar, because apparently my subconscious is a Warner Brothers picture from the '40s.)
But, with the help of a bunch of people, combined with the Christmas miracle of lowered expectations, I managed to get pretty much caught up, which is to say that I'm back up to an acceptable level of behindness.
So tomorrow I'm heading across the state, out to my ancestral mountain home (but not Mountain Home), where the people are wise and pure of heart and time stands still. It used to stand still in the '50s, then lurched forward a few years, and now it's standing still in the late '70s, I think, or thereabouts.
Since this is one of the big home-going holidays, I tend to expect it to be a conduit to the past, a perfect vessel in which continuity with years gone by is maintained and preserved. This is not the case, which isn't really that surprising, if you think about it. Mainly because the past that I'm seeking a connection to happened thirty-odd years ago, and stuff changes. For one, a lot of the people in that past are dead now. Also, new households and families have been established, with their own traditions. People (not me, so much, but, you know, people in general) grow and change.
And it's not like we had that many beloved yuletide traditions in the Savant home when I was a tot. Pretty standard stuff, just like everybody does -- get up in the morning, open presents, eat something, then in the afternoon, maybe go see an elderly, frail, odd-smelling relative. All that stuff still happens (although now the EFO-SRs are only one generation removed from me). Really, the only thing I miss is having a stocking filled up with little miscellaneous stuff. Not surprising, perhaps, since one could argue that my adult life is pretty much a sock full of little miscellaneous stuff (jobs, relationships, apartments, goals, etc.) rather than a grand epic with large attachments and major themes coursing throughout.
As an adult, I have tried, to the extent that I'm able, to establish my own Christmas traditions, as an alternative to always riding shotgun on others'. The major one, of course, is the Christmas CD, which has an ever-widening, almost viral sphere of influence as more and more friends and friends of friends have incorporated it into their own holidays over the years. It's usually the creative apex of my year. I'm not bragging; I'm just saying that everything else I do during the year isn't that great.
Honestly, though, I think I was a bit off this year. Maybe because of the aforementioned agita and tsuris over work, I wasn't able to throw myself into it with as much joyful abandon as has been my wont. Maybe my capacity for joyful abandon is shrinking. There's nothing really wrong with the CD, I guess; it just doesn't make me as happy to listen to as in past years.
Still, though. I'm fond of the elf picture. Took that myself, you know.
Another tradition I like to inflict upon others is gathering a group to watch the annual Christmas parade in my little town. As with most things, the expectation of it usually far exceeds the reality. It's never not fun, though.
And I somehow seem to have acquired the tradition of having to have at least one Starbucks Eggnog Latte before the 25th. I have no idea how this happened. They're not even all that good, but every year I will drink one.
Which I suppose is kind of the point, isn't it? That's why we observe traditions. Not because the activity is pleasurable in and of itself (although it might be), but because there's joy just in the maintaining and observation of traditions. Interesting that this holiday, which usually comes fraught with each family's traditions, is also so kid-centered, seeing as how kids tend to prefer "instant gratification" over "that ineffable warm feeling you may get in preserving continuity with the past, that you may not fully appreciate until you're a wistful, introspective adult." I guess there's enough of both for everyone, though.
So, you know. Merry Christmas to everyone reading this. Or, to be inclusive: I hope everyone reading this has a good day on Monday the 25th, regardless of whatever holiday you may or may not be observing. That also goes for the days immediately surrounding the 25th, by the way. Likewise, if you recently celebrated (or will soon celebrate) a holiday that does not happen to take place on the 25th, the aforementioned felicitation should be considered applicable to that, as well. And an angry, vengeful, patriarchal, white Christian Old Testament God bless us, every one!
Q #1: How was the traffic?
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