Advent
Here I am sitting in another airport right before Christmas again, with a work laptop at my feet and my knitting sitting idly in my lap. I feel like I’ve written this blog before, and perhaps more than once.
It’s been awhile since I’ve posted. I have little excuse for myself, except that I swear it was New Year’s Eve yesterday. You too?
And I’m in the airport again, waiting for a delayed flight home, drinking a San Diego IPA and listening to “Santa Baby” in my earbuds. (Everclear does a good version, by the way.)
This the season, I guess.
As per usual, I blinked and we went from pumpkins to turkeys and now I’m scotch-taping Christmas lights to the edge of my desk. What happened to regular season, eh?
And here we are again. The tree in the living room is getting crispy and I'm back at the office. It's the fourth day of Christmas, coming up on the fifth night of Hanukah I think, and three days to go before we say goodnight to 2016.
The general sentiment of folks on the internet seems to be good riddance on that score. Truth to tell, I'm more worried about what the new year will bring us this time around. I feel my patented brand of optimism slipping.
I'm in Cost Plus on a Friday evening at 5:30 pm, nine days before Christmas. Normally, I would be playing hockey at this time. In actuality, this scene isn't that different.
I approach the counter with various Christmas purchases in my basket, which include a bottle of wine. (The wine isn't actually a gift; it's for me. I have a lot of wrapping to do tonight.)
"May I see your ID, ma'am?" asks the young clerk.
I beam at her and hand over my license for inspection. "Thank you for asking," I say, conspiratorially. "I haven't been carded in ages."
Tuesday morning. 5 a.m. Airport coffee and a plastic chair. Tinsel on the airport art. Fa-la-la-la-la.
Life's been a blur of work and Christmas. Throw in a new hockey bruise and you're up to speed.
Every time I switch on the news, my stomach turns over. I keep switching it on though. I'm starting to wonder if I do it out of social responsibility or as a rubbernecker watching a slow-motion car wreck crash into Washington.
The best I can do is take a deep breath, resist the urge to panic, and look to my local community for ways to help.
Christmas music is one of favorite parts of the season. I look forward to it every year, and over time I've curated a rock and jazz collection of holiday tunes of which I'm very fond.
I never let myself listen to Christmas music before December 1st if I can help it. (I can't forbid the grocery store from playing "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" on November 1st. Yet.)
I had my yearly festive "Oh crap it's only two weeks 'til Christmas" panic attack yesterday. Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la.
It's alright. It wouldn't be the holidays if I wasn't buying candles for the advent wreath two weeks in and then burning them down preferrentially to make it look like I had been on top of it from the beginning.
It's starting to look like Christmas around here. Not a lot. Just a little bit. We're still unpacking but we can deck the cardboard boxes.
So it's the fourth day of Christmas. We ran the Bay Area traffic gauntlet, visited friends and family, and landed back home in time to have two full days of loafing around the house. Probably the last thing I should do, full of Christmas food as I am, but, my, did it feel good.
