Monday, December 13, 2010

Wake me when it's over

For this post, I'm breaking my own rule about keeping it short. There's no way to be brief when you're talking about the holidays, and almost getting beaten up by a pissed off crazy guy, so here you go...

I'm not exactly at my best this time of year. It would help if I were an organized type of person, but I'm only half-assed organized on a good day, and that doesn't feed the bulldog during the holidays. From about the middle of November on, clean underwear is about the best it's going to get. I know this about me. And if I get through the holiday season without a mental breakdown, it's all good.

Still, every year I do the same thing--I make these grandiose plans: to shop and mail early; make my own holiday cards and actually mail them before Groundhog Day; bake lots of cookies; craft multitudes of handmade gifts; host a holiday party or two; make donations to the charities I support. I have accomplished exactly one of these things. Happily, the donations have been made and that makes me feel somewhat better. Somewhat.

I did manage some hand-knitted gifts for the most special people on my list--my kids and my mom. Actually, I was surprised at how many I did manage to knit, but I have a couple more I really want to make--some booties and a sweater for Tilly, and a hat for DH. At least I got some gifts in the mail today. Tomorrow, I'll tackle the cards. Yeah, I crack myself up. I'm hoping they don't raise the postage rates before I actually mail the cards. Higher postage rates would put a serious dent in the Etsy shop I just opened. I have actually made a sale, by the way, and I'm thrilled about that, but there's a lot more work to be done. Why I chose to do it now, I have no clue. Like I need more pressure during the damn holiday.

Don't get me wrong, I have some holiday spirit in me and I don't mean chardonnay. Last week a guy on a bike called me a f*cking bitch and I'm pretty sure he was going to pound me into the sidewalk had we not been next to a street with lots of traffic and witnesses, all because I reminded him that bikers are supposed to give pedestrians a warning when they pass them, especially when it's on a sidewalk. Especially when there's a perfectly good bike lane right next to that sidewalk. I'm guessing I was pretty close to a pounding because of all the screaming and spitting he was doing, but when he threw his bike down and stomped toward me, my main concern was the three dogs I was walking and my new sunglasses. See, I really like these sunglasses, and two of the dogs belong to my bff (the other was Sophie), so as he came closer, I widened my stance, pushed the sunglasses firmly onto my face, and looked to see if there were any cars coming that I could flag down. And here's the odd part--I was not scared at all. I've never seen a grown sober man spit so much while screaming and this absolutely fascinated me. Was he aware that he spewing spit like a freakin' volcano? Was he embarrassed about it? How did he know that I actually am a bitch? A lot of crazy stuff was going through my head but fear wasn't one of them. 

Maybe it was my new HRT patch making me stupid brave. (That is a whole other post, I promise.) At any rate, the guy took one look at this middle aged woman wearing a hot pair of sunglasses and a look of resolve, turned around, picked up his bike and left. As he rode off I told him to be careful not to fall, since he wasn't wearing a helmet. When he yelled "f*ck you lady," I yelled back, "Merry Christmas!" then I walked home. And really, I was mad for about a minute, and the holiday spirit I was bound and determined to hang on to lasted until today, when I finally had to pull up my clean big girl underwear and mail my Christmas gifts before I ended up having to call them New Year's gifts. Or Valentines. Or April Fools gifts. Apparently, I've got the ignore-crazy-bikers strength patch. I'm thinking I need to step up to the get-through-the-holiday-season-without-getting-committed strength patch.

Happy holidays, everybody!