jujube
SF VIP
Sitting today in the RV park laundry room, with nothing to do but watch the clothes go round-and-round in the dryer and read seven-year-old National Geographics and last year's Ladies Home Journal, Redbook, and other old and well-thumbed issues of such mags as "Gracious Homes That You'll Never Attain" and "Southern Living That 1/100th of One Percent Live Like", which led me to ruminate on what self-esteem damage these mags do to the average woman.
For instance, Christmas: I'm lucky if I can get a wreath on the door and a tree up every three years or so. I might bake cookies. I might even put them in a cute tin from the dollar store if I have to take them to a party. Some years, everyone will be lucky to get a tin of peppermint bark from Walmart. However, according to the magazines, I am seriously falling down on my holiday duties, i.e. I have never knitted stockings for my chair and table legs to match my favorite Christmas sweater. My adult kids don't come to stay for a week of merry-making, culminating in a Christmas morning joyfest that involves wearing matching pj's that I've magnanimously whipped up for them on my antique Singer treadle sewing machine. I have yet to make felted Christmas ornaments for my tree using wool from vintage sweaters. I've never sought out old Barrel of Monkey Game monkeys, sprayed them silver and gold and painstakingly covered them with glitter and calligraphy to make a "one-of-a-kind tree garland". My mantel does not have a collection of antique crystal candlesticks with candles hand-dipped by Tibetan nuns and a garland of exotic fruit gilded with 14-carat foil. It might have a couple of mismatched Christmas candles and some cards left over from last year. It might not.
If presents get wrapped, it's a miracle. Usually they get dropped in a bag. Hopefully, the bag will be of the Christmas variety. It might or might not have ribbon on the handle. I have never custom-designed wrapping paper to match each recipient's personal interests. I'm not even sure if I know each recipient's personal interests.
I do not freeze large ice balls to put lights into and line my sidewalk with......not that they'd last long in a Florida Christmas anyway. I do not invite my friends over for an afternoon of holly and greenery cutting and then decorator wreath-making. They'd laugh at me. I definitely do not serve them hot chocolate using organic cocoa beans custom-picked for me by campesinos in Uruguay and served in clever personalized cups I have made on my pottery wheel. If somebody comes by, they get beer or wine-in-a-box served in red and green Solo cups. That's my concession to the holidays.
Christmas morning, there are no adorable, well-behaved and exquisitely groomed grandchildren sitting politely (also dressed in matching sleepwear that I carefully created on my trusty above-mentioned treadle sewing machine) and waiting their turns to open presents, pausing between each one to read the Letter of Ten Thanks for What The Year Has Brought that each one has thoughtfully written.
Christmas dinner is eaten at the table (which is not covered with a tablecloth that my great-great-grandmother hand wove in 1859), at the counter, on the floor, on the porch and in front of the TV. There are not 18 happy faces gathered around the antique tablecloth. Nobody is wearing a smoking jacket or an ascot. The centerpiece will be the platter the turkey would have been on if I had defrosted it in time. It will have fried chicken on it.....the drumsticks will not be wearing festive stockings.
Honest to Gawd......I found all of these "suggestions" in a pile of Christmas edition magazines this morning. Christmas is still seven months away and I already feel inadequate. I'm making my New Years Resolution early......I will NOT read any more Christmas magazines. I will have a nice glass of wine. I'll bring my own reading materials to the laundry room next time (along with a nice glass of wine).
For instance, Christmas: I'm lucky if I can get a wreath on the door and a tree up every three years or so. I might bake cookies. I might even put them in a cute tin from the dollar store if I have to take them to a party. Some years, everyone will be lucky to get a tin of peppermint bark from Walmart. However, according to the magazines, I am seriously falling down on my holiday duties, i.e. I have never knitted stockings for my chair and table legs to match my favorite Christmas sweater. My adult kids don't come to stay for a week of merry-making, culminating in a Christmas morning joyfest that involves wearing matching pj's that I've magnanimously whipped up for them on my antique Singer treadle sewing machine. I have yet to make felted Christmas ornaments for my tree using wool from vintage sweaters. I've never sought out old Barrel of Monkey Game monkeys, sprayed them silver and gold and painstakingly covered them with glitter and calligraphy to make a "one-of-a-kind tree garland". My mantel does not have a collection of antique crystal candlesticks with candles hand-dipped by Tibetan nuns and a garland of exotic fruit gilded with 14-carat foil. It might have a couple of mismatched Christmas candles and some cards left over from last year. It might not.
If presents get wrapped, it's a miracle. Usually they get dropped in a bag. Hopefully, the bag will be of the Christmas variety. It might or might not have ribbon on the handle. I have never custom-designed wrapping paper to match each recipient's personal interests. I'm not even sure if I know each recipient's personal interests.
I do not freeze large ice balls to put lights into and line my sidewalk with......not that they'd last long in a Florida Christmas anyway. I do not invite my friends over for an afternoon of holly and greenery cutting and then decorator wreath-making. They'd laugh at me. I definitely do not serve them hot chocolate using organic cocoa beans custom-picked for me by campesinos in Uruguay and served in clever personalized cups I have made on my pottery wheel. If somebody comes by, they get beer or wine-in-a-box served in red and green Solo cups. That's my concession to the holidays.
Christmas morning, there are no adorable, well-behaved and exquisitely groomed grandchildren sitting politely (also dressed in matching sleepwear that I carefully created on my trusty above-mentioned treadle sewing machine) and waiting their turns to open presents, pausing between each one to read the Letter of Ten Thanks for What The Year Has Brought that each one has thoughtfully written.
Christmas dinner is eaten at the table (which is not covered with a tablecloth that my great-great-grandmother hand wove in 1859), at the counter, on the floor, on the porch and in front of the TV. There are not 18 happy faces gathered around the antique tablecloth. Nobody is wearing a smoking jacket or an ascot. The centerpiece will be the platter the turkey would have been on if I had defrosted it in time. It will have fried chicken on it.....the drumsticks will not be wearing festive stockings.
Honest to Gawd......I found all of these "suggestions" in a pile of Christmas edition magazines this morning. Christmas is still seven months away and I already feel inadequate. I'm making my New Years Resolution early......I will NOT read any more Christmas magazines. I will have a nice glass of wine. I'll bring my own reading materials to the laundry room next time (along with a nice glass of wine).
And the times I've gone to Illinois they didn't get any.
