I’m struggling with this Christmas thing. I’m really sorry, but if you’re making any kind of Christmas craft, or baking your gifts and wrapping them in cellophane while you sing carols, I won’t be able to read your posts. It’s not you, it’s me. I just feel a bit… bah humbug.
First I thought it was because it was October and there were carols and mince pies in the shops, and I was still fighting my inner battle over Halloween. But now it’s only a week out, and I still haven’t bought any presents. Uh-oh. We have a tree, and it smells great, but this year I’m not going and sticking my nose into it for great big whiffs like I’ve done in the past. Underneath are some sad, empty floorboards. Each night I go to sleep with my hands over my eyes while the Christmas lights epileptically flash through the blinds over my windows.
I am becoming a little bit afraid of going to sleep, hiding under the covers in my white nightcap and billowing white nightgown, waiting for that dude to turn up and drag me back through my Christmases past and future until we have to go and look in on poor dead Tiny Tim’s sad family.
I’m not hiding completely though. We had our Christmas lunch with our wonderful friends at Manly on Saturday, as we do each year. This year was fabulous, as nobody was pregnant. Finally!! We had our Shit Kringle, with a max $10 spend, and unlimited steals. By far the most coveted were the honking horn beer mug and the Crocodile pool float, which I can proudly claim to have purchased myself. So I do at least still have my gift-buying skills. I am now the proud owner of a beautiful set of man-care products for the face, which would be lovely, if I had a man-face. Well, perhaps I do, when I’m angry, but I generally don’t feel like facial grooming at such times. I got a little spirited, it’s true, but not particularly in a Christmas kind of way.
I will enthrall you now with a brief pictorial run-down of the day’s events, so you can capture all the excitement as each Shit Kringle gift unfolded from our dizzy blindfolded hands. (I should mention – the dizziness was not purely alcohol-induced… prior to our selection we were spun around pin-the-tail on the donkey style about 15 times).
So … since Christmas is about kids, and I have some, I’m going to have to get my Christmas on somehow. I’m going to work on some kind of military-style three-pronged attack, I think. There will be holes in this approach, because there always are in my plans, and I have no army training. My training is legal, so I’m good at poking holes in stuff.
Step 1) Listen to the carols. I will not discriminate. There will be Mariah in there. In fact, quite a lot of her, because despite the fact she’s shrill and wobbly, my brother loved her when he was 14, and listened to her Christmas CD on loop, so she kinda brings back happy family Christmas childhood memories, in a weird and annoying kind of way.
Step 2) Go to the bloody shops, and buy the bloody presents. All that tinsel and towers of Danish biscuits in tins and Santa and howling children will surely have to touch me deep inside, won’t it?
Step 3) Find some real carols, and go to them. Take children, and wine. And more wine. Dripping candle wax down your arm and watching your children wiggle their butts to jingle bells has to be a little bit like Christmas, doesn’t it? I’m just scared I’ll get picnic blanket rage at all the place-holding/complaining/pushing/jostling that goes on at that stuff. Where’s their Christmas spirit? Oh yeah. They’re probably like me.
Considering these things may not be enough, please send me your best Christmassy spirity type tips that work for you (that do NOT involve baking or craftificating) and I will be eternally grateful. So will my poor girls who are clutching on to their advent calendars for dear life.
xx Merry Something.