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!