I can remember when my husband and I (and even before he was my husband) used to go to Store 24 (member those?!), or a particular New York Korean Market on 63rd & 1st, late on a Saturday night and buy the Sunday New York Times, so we’d have it in the morning. It was like gaming the system, somehow. It felt a little decadent and I loved it.
Now, it’s delivered to my door. And if it’s not here quickly enough for my reading desires, I can always open up my computer and just read it there, in the middle of the night, if the spirit moves me, in fact. While there is something fun about this, I also miss that trip to the store for the paper. That was an activity filled with anticipation and sometimes bacon, too. And let’s face it, BACON.
Anyway, I have a Times Style Section sized amount of gratitude for those days, and these, when I get my paper any way I want it. Today, it’s in bed with a giant cuppa joe, wishing an unfond farewell to one of the country’s shittiest years.
It’s 23 degrees and I am watching the sunrise. This is a common occurrence, the sun getting up each day, but what amazes me, and this morning is mesmerizing me, is the flourish with which it answers its alarm. If you’re lucky and up at the right time, and near a window, or outside (which I am not, because did I mention that it’s 23), you get to glory in the sun’s debut, and it’s often a colorful one. Today it’s a strip of pink atop a baby blue background. Imagine hoisting yourself out of bed with such a lovely attitude?
I am too lazy to move from under my fuzzy blanket on the couch to take a picture outside, so what I am witnessing is through my window’s gauzy curtains, and even that’s inspiring. I mean, nature, all by itself, without help from man (in fact, we are so not helping nature these days–because remember there is no climate change) just does its thing, and so damn beautifully.
Maybe because I’m getting old, or because the earth is in peril, or because I try hard to notice the world around me, but there is a lot of beauty out there when we look for it. Not plasticized, manufactured, to purchase on Amazon, but just found in nature. And gratitude for that.
I must tell you that even Santa could not deliver the mood-boosting news that’s befalling the the accidental president of the United States. The Teflon Don seems to have lost his luster and is being haunted by something so alien to him, I’m sure he doesn’t even know what it is–the truth.
You know how you like to see the bully/murderer/bad guy/monster get punished in a movie–that good feeling you get inside when evil gets a hard smack upside the head? That’s how I’m feeling. I do believe I have a little extra pep in my step that has nothing to do with holiday cheer.
So, gratitude to Saint Robert Mueller, to Michael “lap dog” Cohen, Nancy “Power” Pelosi and to all the people who are coming forward to tell the fucking truth. You are making my holidays bright.
It’s that time of year. And depending on the tone you use to say that sentence, it can mean drastically different things. Like, if you’re all enthusiastic and bubbly and jumping out of your pale winter skin when you say it, it means you probably kill at a holiday party, you have all your gifts wrapped by August and you actually like fruitcake. But, if you say it with an Eyore cadence, and an eye-roll, you probably aren’t not ok with all the ho, ho, ho.
The holidays are a mixed bag (and we’re not talking Santa’s sack). On the one hand, there are plenty of parties and lots of family together time. But what if your dance card is empty and you don’t have family, or you’ve lost family, or are just going through a bad time in general, or you’re having money problems, or you’ve got Instagram envy, or you think you’re about to be impeached? Well, then the holidays can be one of the worst times of the year.
So, while I’m super grateful for the holiday love around me, this time of year really makes me miss my mom (because it’s when she was diagnosed and when, many years later, she died) and so some days I am singing the Hallelujah chorus during December and sometimes I feel like Charlie Brown’s sad sack Christmas tree.
So, be extra nice to people this time of year. Because there are lots of reasons that the holidays can be hard. And you don’t want to be one of them.