Hallejulah. It’s over. Done. Finished. The holidays are past me.
I survived. Barely.
My house is de-Christmastized.
Tree down. Lights put away.
All that remains in my too tight pants, a looming Macy’s bill, and a long joyless January and February.
I need to reintroduce myself to my tread mill. Apparently 10 days off work includes an unwritten but obligatory over-indulgence rule. Egg-nog, bacon wrapped dates (heaven), roasted olives (more heaven), salted caramels, bacon wrapped tenderloin, cocktail shrimp, assorted cheeses and a deep dive into the brandy slush (no life preserver needed).
Now my pants are tight.
Or maybe they just shrunk? Yeah! That’s it. The ol’ Maytag screwed up my pants. Bastards.
Stupid brandy slush.
But it wasn’t stupid. It was oh-so-tasty and fruity brandy-slushy-liciousness that provided much needed coping mechanisms at otherwise stressful family gatherings where sedation is not only required, it’s encouraged.
Now I could take the “New Year’s Resolution” way out of the too tight pants debacle, and tape a few well articulated New Year’s Resolutions to my fridge about how I will eat, drink and spend less and, of course, exercise more.
But who’s kidding who. Haven’t you been paying attention? I’m the living example of ‘on-the-wagon-off-the-wagon’ when it comes to diet and exercise. Never mind the spending. That’s the whole other litany of blog entries I haven’t even tackled yet.
The only resolutions I have a snowballs change of successfully completing include drinking more champagne and perfecting the pork chop (mmm, I just love a good pork chop! Pigs are so tasty!)
Or spa treatments.
I could resolve to go to the spa more, get a few more massages, pop for facials or change up my toenail polish color more often while talking myself out of another round of abdominal exercises.
Perhaps the best resolution includes resolving to accept my weaknesses for what they are, work with what I have, and move on to tasting more kinds of tequila. Or I could simply resolve to do what I need to do to survive the holidays each year.
Wait. I’ve perfected that one. Brandy slush and bacon wrapped dates.
Check.
Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Commercialized Excess
I spent the better part of the weekend wrapping Christmas gifts. And when I was done, 2 days later, my living room was a practical example of Christmas commercialized excess.
I know that society has been bemoaning the commercialization of Christmas forever. But for real. It's gotten out of hand.
I am not a practicing Christian by any means, but I do buy into the whole "Peace on Earth/Goodwill to Men" angle of the holiday. The family aspect. The nice meal. The relaxing in front of the fireplace sipping a 1,000 calorie per glass of eggnog. I am past the age of 12 and while I do appreciate a nice gift, it's not that important to me. From my perspective, the magic of Christmas is for kids.
While I do like buying a few well chosen gifts for close family and friends. There is a societal perception that one must pick up "a little something" for every person we come into contact with on a yearly basis in the spirit of the season lest you be labeled a Scrooge. It's a layer of financial stress that I can't fully articulate. It has become a burden and not a joy.
This will come off as ungenerous and grinchy. So be it. I do consider myself generous and thoughtful gift giver but I'd rather do it on my own terms at any other point in the calendar year except the day when it is expected. My thoughtful well chosen gifts are replaced with the mad dash of gift cards so I have "a little something" for a laundry list of names. And frankly...all those "little somethings" along with all the other expenditures of the season, the booze, the special Christmas dinner, the hosted events, all add up to a big final total. A total that could be mistaken for a mortgage payment.
The commercialization of Christmas is real and it's exhausting. The malls start with the decorations and the music before Halloween. Then there are the ads. The doorbusters. The gazillionith rendition of White Christmas.
As I write this, it's 5 days before Christmas and I, for one, can't wait for it to be over. I am ready to settle down for a long winters nap.
I know that society has been bemoaning the commercialization of Christmas forever. But for real. It's gotten out of hand.
I am not a practicing Christian by any means, but I do buy into the whole "Peace on Earth/Goodwill to Men" angle of the holiday. The family aspect. The nice meal. The relaxing in front of the fireplace sipping a 1,000 calorie per glass of eggnog. I am past the age of 12 and while I do appreciate a nice gift, it's not that important to me. From my perspective, the magic of Christmas is for kids.
While I do like buying a few well chosen gifts for close family and friends. There is a societal perception that one must pick up "a little something" for every person we come into contact with on a yearly basis in the spirit of the season lest you be labeled a Scrooge. It's a layer of financial stress that I can't fully articulate. It has become a burden and not a joy.
This will come off as ungenerous and grinchy. So be it. I do consider myself generous and thoughtful gift giver but I'd rather do it on my own terms at any other point in the calendar year except the day when it is expected. My thoughtful well chosen gifts are replaced with the mad dash of gift cards so I have "a little something" for a laundry list of names. And frankly...all those "little somethings" along with all the other expenditures of the season, the booze, the special Christmas dinner, the hosted events, all add up to a big final total. A total that could be mistaken for a mortgage payment.
The commercialization of Christmas is real and it's exhausting. The malls start with the decorations and the music before Halloween. Then there are the ads. The doorbusters. The gazillionith rendition of White Christmas.
As I write this, it's 5 days before Christmas and I, for one, can't wait for it to be over. I am ready to settle down for a long winters nap.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Not as simple as it looks
Just in case you haven't been paying attention. The big "Kohler" show is a few weeks away.
You can read about it here and here.
As previously mentioned Kohler booth space is at a premium. Myoverpriced 8x10 booth will be "cozy" and because clothing takes up some space, so I've been brainstorming about how to maximize my space opportinity. I can't have any "stock" visible (no boxes or tubs) so I needed to figure out how to have extra stock artfully displayed.
I found some fun litte black wire cubes from http://www.robertham.com/. Supposedly they assemble and disassemble with ease. Ease is apparently a subjective word.
2 hours and one rubber mallet later I was still assembling, along with a few choice curse words all while thinking there is no (insert choice curseword here) way I am taking these apart and putting them back together again. My car is already going to be packed full but I'll make it work with assembled cubes if it kills me.
Two weeks and counting. Tick tock.
Updates to follow...
You can read about it here and here.
As previously mentioned Kohler booth space is at a premium. My
I found some fun litte black wire cubes from http://www.robertham.com/. Supposedly they assemble and disassemble with ease. Ease is apparently a subjective word.
2 hours and one rubber mallet later I was still assembling, along with a few choice curse words all while thinking there is no (insert choice curseword here) way I am taking these apart and putting them back together again. My car is already going to be packed full but I'll make it work with assembled cubes if it kills me.
Two weeks and counting. Tick tock.
Updates to follow...
Friday, November 4, 2011
Stuff I like – Reinvented vinyl
If you are as old as me, ahem, then you remember records.
You know, albums.
Vinyl.
Those big monstrous looking black discs that played music on your parent’s stereo console with a diamond tipped record needle while you are your besties learned to disco dance in the rec room. The rec room that probably had shag carpet and wood paneling.
It’s all coming back now isn’t it?
I wish I could say that I still owned my albums. Thriller, Styx, Madonna, Saturday Night Fever, Journey, Fleetwood Mac and so on. But I am a purger by nature and my albums were long since purged at garage sales, where they were probably acquired by someone like this artist who does nifty things with old records. Upcycling I think they call it now…although it’s cooler than that. Trust me.
Reinvented Vinyl is my new favorite etsy shop. Hand to god. This artist takes old albums and magically reinvents them (hence the shop name) into fabulous purses. I know! So cool. You can also send her your favorite album and she will turn it into an fabulous purse.
So I did what any good girl would do. I bought four. Three for Christmas gifts and one for me (because I deserve a present for doing all the Christmas shopping. You can read about my thoughts on Christmas here).
You might think the best part about shopping for these four purses was sending a check to the artist and receiving a big box of purses several weeks later on my front porch. Close.
But the real fun was the tripping down memory lane part of the purchase. The part where I covertly grilled my besties about their favorite record albums in hopes it could be created into some awesome piece of fashion nostalgia that doesn’t have “Made in China” stamped on the bottom. The part where I am renounced best gift giver ever come Christmas.
Win-win for everyone!
Buy unique. Buy handmade.
You know, albums.
Vinyl.
Those big monstrous looking black discs that played music on your parent’s stereo console with a diamond tipped record needle while you are your besties learned to disco dance in the rec room. The rec room that probably had shag carpet and wood paneling.
It’s all coming back now isn’t it?
I wish I could say that I still owned my albums. Thriller, Styx, Madonna, Saturday Night Fever, Journey, Fleetwood Mac and so on. But I am a purger by nature and my albums were long since purged at garage sales, where they were probably acquired by someone like this artist who does nifty things with old records. Upcycling I think they call it now…although it’s cooler than that. Trust me.
Reinvented Vinyl is my new favorite etsy shop. Hand to god. This artist takes old albums and magically reinvents them (hence the shop name) into fabulous purses. I know! So cool. You can also send her your favorite album and she will turn it into an fabulous purse.
So I did what any good girl would do. I bought four. Three for Christmas gifts and one for me (because I deserve a present for doing all the Christmas shopping. You can read about my thoughts on Christmas here).
You might think the best part about shopping for these four purses was sending a check to the artist and receiving a big box of purses several weeks later on my front porch. Close.
But the real fun was the tripping down memory lane part of the purchase. The part where I covertly grilled my besties about their favorite record albums in hopes it could be created into some awesome piece of fashion nostalgia that doesn’t have “Made in China” stamped on the bottom. The part where I am renounced best gift giver ever come Christmas.
Win-win for everyone!
Buy unique. Buy handmade.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Kohler - An Update
So yeah. I was accepted to the big “Holiday Craft Market” in Kohler, Wi. You can read about that here.
Silly me. I assumed acceptance meant all artists are created equal. Not so much with the created equal. New vendors are low man on the totem pole.
Low. Very low.
Low man on the totem pole means that the 10x12 booth space I requested will not be a reality. Not unless another returning vendor befalls a non-fatal but disfiguring accident and is unable to attend this year’s event.
Low man means only 8x8 booth spaces are left. 8x8 isn’t very big when you display clothing.
Low also means you get relegated to some random banquet room, not the coveted “Grand Ball Room”.
Newbies must pay their dues.
The coordinator of the Kohler show…in my opinion has the most thankless job on the planet. I’m pretty sure coordinating the booth spaces and needs of 100+ narcissistic artists is tantamount to a hazing ritual in the events planning world. The hotel events managers of The American Club probably rub their hands in anticipation of who they can torture this year with the planning of the annual Kohler Holiday Mart….insert maniacal manager laughter here.
The coordinator has been great about trying to at least accommodate me, which I really do appreciate.
I do.
I am being 110% sincere. She could have easily dumped me in the 8x8 and left no room for discussion. So major snaps to the holiday event coordinator at the American Club for being so stand up about what I am sure is a no win situation for anyone.
I was able to use my powerful negotiation skills and wrangle my way into an 8x10 booth. I bet you didn’t think that an extra 2 feet of booth space costs $100. It does.
Booth space real estate ain’t cheap. It’s even less cheap at The American Club where a room is $300 a night.
No lie.
For the record I won't be staying at The American Club. I have 3 nights booked at the lovely La Quinta.
So – we’re off and running. Contract and check to be sent. Let the months of prepping begin.
More to follow.
Silly me. I assumed acceptance meant all artists are created equal. Not so much with the created equal. New vendors are low man on the totem pole.
Low. Very low.
Low man on the totem pole means that the 10x12 booth space I requested will not be a reality. Not unless another returning vendor befalls a non-fatal but disfiguring accident and is unable to attend this year’s event.
Low man means only 8x8 booth spaces are left. 8x8 isn’t very big when you display clothing.
Low also means you get relegated to some random banquet room, not the coveted “Grand Ball Room”.
Newbies must pay their dues.
The coordinator of the Kohler show…in my opinion has the most thankless job on the planet. I’m pretty sure coordinating the booth spaces and needs of 100+ narcissistic artists is tantamount to a hazing ritual in the events planning world. The hotel events managers of The American Club probably rub their hands in anticipation of who they can torture this year with the planning of the annual Kohler Holiday Mart….insert maniacal manager laughter here.
The coordinator has been great about trying to at least accommodate me, which I really do appreciate.
I do.
I am being 110% sincere. She could have easily dumped me in the 8x8 and left no room for discussion. So major snaps to the holiday event coordinator at the American Club for being so stand up about what I am sure is a no win situation for anyone.
I was able to use my powerful negotiation skills and wrangle my way into an 8x10 booth. I bet you didn’t think that an extra 2 feet of booth space costs $100. It does.
Booth space real estate ain’t cheap. It’s even less cheap at The American Club where a room is $300 a night.
No lie.
For the record I won't be staying at The American Club. I have 3 nights booked at the lovely La Quinta.
So – we’re off and running. Contract and check to be sent. Let the months of prepping begin.
More to follow.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
My Most Favorite Day of the Year!
For the last 9 years my BFF and I plan a Christmas shopping trip to Mayfair Mall in Milwaukee. We generally go around the first week of December – always mid-week.
The intent is to shop for others, but in honesty, we do a lot of shopping for us. Two full-time working moms responsible for the near flawless execution of Christmas wizardry clearly deserve a little retail compensation. It’s a big fat juicy rationalization at its finest and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
In all of our years planning the Mayfair Holiday Shopping Extravaganza we’ve only been foiled once by bad weather. Otherwise, our drill is the same. By way of Starbucks I head to my friends house where we compare coupons for various stores, pile in the car and arrive promptly at Mayfair by 8:30am. Macys typically has a sale every other day so the odds are pretty good they are already open which means lolling about and acquiring several pairs of shoes in an hour’s time while waiting for the rest of the mall to open. This is not uncommon. My BFF understands and appreciates the value (and need) to own multiple pairs of black shiny shoes (or boots). It is strongly encouraged. It is not atypical to make multiple shoe purchases with said BFF, which of course receive affirmation of the buyer’s good style and taste. A successful first hour in the shoe department will result in one trip back to the car to unload packages.
And then it’s time to hit the mall, making various stops, lulled by sparkly holiday attire in store windows and the aroma of delicious treats from William Sonoma.
And just like that (insert finger snap here)…its 2:00. Not kidding. It’s the world’s fastest day…which means it’s time for lunch and cocktails. Is there anything better than lettuce wraps and Mai Tais from PF Changs while the rest of the world is having a workday? I think not.
Now I will admit that one Mai Tai slips down the gullet pretty quickly. Ordering a 2nd has been done on more than one occasion. There a few risks associated with the Mai Tai lunch; first there is that there are two, happily buzzed females roaming the mall wielding Visa cards. The other risk is that eventually the Mai Tai the buzz wears off, but one chemical can be replaced with another. Hurray for the White Mocha Peppermint Latte, a 500 calorie orgasm in a cup. Brilliant! The benefit of said lunch is that everything looks better through Mai Tai colored glasses (it’s the dark rum float) including me half naked in a three way mirror, which is why the lingerie shopping is after lunch. Many a sexy bra has been acquired at Soma while delicately buzzed on fruity rum drinks. It really should be a law to serve cocktails to women while shopping for intimates, jeans or bathing suits.
More roaming of the mall ensues including a trip to Crate and Barrel. And then just like that (insert finger snap here) the world’s best grown up girl day is over and it’s time to head back home…two ladies all the happier with several new pairs of shiny shiny shoes.
The intent is to shop for others, but in honesty, we do a lot of shopping for us. Two full-time working moms responsible for the near flawless execution of Christmas wizardry clearly deserve a little retail compensation. It’s a big fat juicy rationalization at its finest and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
In all of our years planning the Mayfair Holiday Shopping Extravaganza we’ve only been foiled once by bad weather. Otherwise, our drill is the same. By way of Starbucks I head to my friends house where we compare coupons for various stores, pile in the car and arrive promptly at Mayfair by 8:30am. Macys typically has a sale every other day so the odds are pretty good they are already open which means lolling about and acquiring several pairs of shoes in an hour’s time while waiting for the rest of the mall to open. This is not uncommon. My BFF understands and appreciates the value (and need) to own multiple pairs of black shiny shoes (or boots). It is strongly encouraged. It is not atypical to make multiple shoe purchases with said BFF, which of course receive affirmation of the buyer’s good style and taste. A successful first hour in the shoe department will result in one trip back to the car to unload packages.
And then it’s time to hit the mall, making various stops, lulled by sparkly holiday attire in store windows and the aroma of delicious treats from William Sonoma.
And just like that (insert finger snap here)…its 2:00. Not kidding. It’s the world’s fastest day…which means it’s time for lunch and cocktails. Is there anything better than lettuce wraps and Mai Tais from PF Changs while the rest of the world is having a workday? I think not.
Now I will admit that one Mai Tai slips down the gullet pretty quickly. Ordering a 2nd has been done on more than one occasion. There a few risks associated with the Mai Tai lunch; first there is that there are two, happily buzzed females roaming the mall wielding Visa cards. The other risk is that eventually the Mai Tai the buzz wears off, but one chemical can be replaced with another. Hurray for the White Mocha Peppermint Latte, a 500 calorie orgasm in a cup. Brilliant! The benefit of said lunch is that everything looks better through Mai Tai colored glasses (it’s the dark rum float) including me half naked in a three way mirror, which is why the lingerie shopping is after lunch. Many a sexy bra has been acquired at Soma while delicately buzzed on fruity rum drinks. It really should be a law to serve cocktails to women while shopping for intimates, jeans or bathing suits.
More roaming of the mall ensues including a trip to Crate and Barrel. And then just like that (insert finger snap here) the world’s best grown up girl day is over and it’s time to head back home…two ladies all the happier with several new pairs of shiny shiny shoes.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Putting the Jolly Back into the Holidays: Update #1
I took that first step to a jollier holiday season the weekend before Thanksgiving. Actually it was one step + 252 round trip miles. Go me.
The ulterior motive was largely driven by the craft show circuit but the end result was surprisingly positive.
My craft show circuitude yielded a tip on a potential show location for 2011…The Holiday Craft Market at The American Club in Kohler, Wisconsin. I’ve never been to The American Club but I have heard it’s lovely. I have had the good fortune to stay at The Sundara Inn and Spa which has all Kohler fixtures, like the shower tower haven system and the overflow soak tub. I figured anything linked to both The American Club and Kohler was worth a looksy.
As luck would have it the Holiday Craft Market was within the week of acquiring the tip. I made plans to meet my two sister-in-laws for a morning of crafting and scoping out the venue, all in the name of holiday cheer.
Of course this all seemed like a good idea when I made plans on Tuesday, but to be perfectly honest by Saturday, after a full week of my corporate desk job and a moderately lucrative show in Waunakee I was tired. Dog tired. My enthusiasm for hopping in the car at 6:30am on a Sunday morning had dwindled to record lows. But my BFF told me I would have fun and to press on.
So I did.
And it was.
I hate when my BFF is smarter than me. Curses.
The show itself is very lovely. I will definitely apply for 2011.
But the very act of walking the show and stopping to chat with vendors and buy a few trifles for myself (and a few for some other people) while simultaneously chatting with my sister-in-laws was really fun. And then we did brunch. Not just a regular brunch but The American Club Sunday Champagne brunch; the kind of brunch in which one tosses out all eating rules like “eating in moderation” and “no sugar” because the food is so decadent.
For two solid hours we sat in tufted chairs at a linen covered table listening to classical music and ate fresh omelet’s, cold seafood and sipped coffee from delicate china. Time was inconsequential. It was just a lovely morning of ladies who brunch. Decadent, relaxing and wholly enjoyable.
And that is how I kicked off my holiday season. Perhaps there is hope for me yet this holiday season.
The ulterior motive was largely driven by the craft show circuit but the end result was surprisingly positive.
My craft show circuitude yielded a tip on a potential show location for 2011…The Holiday Craft Market at The American Club in Kohler, Wisconsin. I’ve never been to The American Club but I have heard it’s lovely. I have had the good fortune to stay at The Sundara Inn and Spa which has all Kohler fixtures, like the shower tower haven system and the overflow soak tub. I figured anything linked to both The American Club and Kohler was worth a looksy.
As luck would have it the Holiday Craft Market was within the week of acquiring the tip. I made plans to meet my two sister-in-laws for a morning of crafting and scoping out the venue, all in the name of holiday cheer.
Of course this all seemed like a good idea when I made plans on Tuesday, but to be perfectly honest by Saturday, after a full week of my corporate desk job and a moderately lucrative show in Waunakee I was tired. Dog tired. My enthusiasm for hopping in the car at 6:30am on a Sunday morning had dwindled to record lows. But my BFF told me I would have fun and to press on.
So I did.
And it was.
I hate when my BFF is smarter than me. Curses.
The show itself is very lovely. I will definitely apply for 2011.
But the very act of walking the show and stopping to chat with vendors and buy a few trifles for myself (and a few for some other people) while simultaneously chatting with my sister-in-laws was really fun. And then we did brunch. Not just a regular brunch but The American Club Sunday Champagne brunch; the kind of brunch in which one tosses out all eating rules like “eating in moderation” and “no sugar” because the food is so decadent.
For two solid hours we sat in tufted chairs at a linen covered table listening to classical music and ate fresh omelet’s, cold seafood and sipped coffee from delicate china. Time was inconsequential. It was just a lovely morning of ladies who brunch. Decadent, relaxing and wholly enjoyable.
And that is how I kicked off my holiday season. Perhaps there is hope for me yet this holiday season.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Trying to put the jolly back into the Holidays
In recent years, I fear I have become a glorified bah-humbug. In my youth (youth being defined as pre mortgage, children and in-laws) I loved Christmas. I loved all of it; the music, the decorations, the buzz of the mall, the wrapping, the baking. Unfortunately family responsibilities and unreasonable self expectations for pulling off a Frank Capra Christmas have left me scarred and jaded. Christmas has become an exercise in survival. Can I mire through yet another season of shopping, baking, decorating, cooking, wrapping and entertaining reasonably unscathed?
Every year Christmas approaches with the ferocity and speed of freight train. A fast and furious commercialized beast with the possibility to do great bodily harm and significant credit card damage. What was once the 12 days of Christmas has morphed into the 3 months and 12 days of Christmas. Macys had their Christmas decorations up before Halloween. I am 100% serious. Full blown decorations and merchandising; tables stocked with coin counters, mini golf sets and Godiva gift boxes. By the time there are only 12 days until Christmas I am so sick of Christmas music I could run screaming from yet another rendition of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.
I find this early bird gets the worm approach to Christmas to be both a blessing and curse. My twisted logic rationalizes that getting my shopping done early, say before December 1st, will afford me the opportunity to actually enjoy a season I’ve come to dread with the same intensity as a root canal. The curse is obvious. I have to start thinking and planning in September. That’s too early.
Common sense would say to forgo all the fluffery of the baking, elaborate decorations and neatly wrapped packages. I am not sure my family would notice. Or maybe they would. I’m too much of a chicken to find out. Let’s face it, the combination of unreasonable self expectations and mom guilt would probably send me right into therapy. Or into the Betty Ford center. Hard to say.
I am trying very hard to carve out some special holiday-esque events so I can actually enjoy what the season has to offer. So far I’ve planned two shopping trips, a girl’s only cocktail party and a dinner reservation at a nice steakhouse as a surprise for my family. I also have this little ritual of watching every Christmas movie I own (and I own many of them) between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Many times a movie classic is playing while I’m multitasking with other things because if there is one thing that December is short on, it’s time to sit and relax.
My favorite holiday event is ringing bells for the Salvation Army. It is an annual Christmas Eve event and those who sign up early (like September) get the choice ringing spot (like right outside Macys which is in an indoor shopping mall). On Christmas Eve people are generally cheerful and generous. I hypothesize that’s because they are secretly glad (like me) that the season is coming to a close.
So with Thanksgiving a mere few days away, I’m going to take a deep breath, a gulp of wine and ask for patience from the universe to shed some of my bah-humbug ways in an attempt to enjoy the next month. Updates to follow…
Every year Christmas approaches with the ferocity and speed of freight train. A fast and furious commercialized beast with the possibility to do great bodily harm and significant credit card damage. What was once the 12 days of Christmas has morphed into the 3 months and 12 days of Christmas. Macys had their Christmas decorations up before Halloween. I am 100% serious. Full blown decorations and merchandising; tables stocked with coin counters, mini golf sets and Godiva gift boxes. By the time there are only 12 days until Christmas I am so sick of Christmas music I could run screaming from yet another rendition of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.
I find this early bird gets the worm approach to Christmas to be both a blessing and curse. My twisted logic rationalizes that getting my shopping done early, say before December 1st, will afford me the opportunity to actually enjoy a season I’ve come to dread with the same intensity as a root canal. The curse is obvious. I have to start thinking and planning in September. That’s too early.
Common sense would say to forgo all the fluffery of the baking, elaborate decorations and neatly wrapped packages. I am not sure my family would notice. Or maybe they would. I’m too much of a chicken to find out. Let’s face it, the combination of unreasonable self expectations and mom guilt would probably send me right into therapy. Or into the Betty Ford center. Hard to say.
I am trying very hard to carve out some special holiday-esque events so I can actually enjoy what the season has to offer. So far I’ve planned two shopping trips, a girl’s only cocktail party and a dinner reservation at a nice steakhouse as a surprise for my family. I also have this little ritual of watching every Christmas movie I own (and I own many of them) between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Many times a movie classic is playing while I’m multitasking with other things because if there is one thing that December is short on, it’s time to sit and relax.
My favorite holiday event is ringing bells for the Salvation Army. It is an annual Christmas Eve event and those who sign up early (like September) get the choice ringing spot (like right outside Macys which is in an indoor shopping mall). On Christmas Eve people are generally cheerful and generous. I hypothesize that’s because they are secretly glad (like me) that the season is coming to a close.
So with Thanksgiving a mere few days away, I’m going to take a deep breath, a gulp of wine and ask for patience from the universe to shed some of my bah-humbug ways in an attempt to enjoy the next month. Updates to follow…
Friday, November 12, 2010
The Birthday Octave
Sigh.
Another candle on the cake. Technically, I’ve officially stopped counting. This makes the whole aging process seemingly less horrific then it truly is. And it is horrific. Whoever says “it’s just a number” hasn’t hit the magical age of 40 where parts of the body break, sag and atrophy at a rate that is staggering. I am not making this up. There is a reason trips to the plastic surgeon have increased for the 40-50 demographic.
Despite my disdain for counting the actual birthday candles, I am a big fan of maximizing birthday celebration opportunities. And I like cake.
My brilliant BFF taught me all about the “birthday octave” wherein the birthday girl is allowed to partake in any and all celebratory occasions, gifts (either received by friends or self purchased), outings, special lunches, dinners, extra trips to Starbucks, new boots, any treats involving chocolate, wine, happy hours or spa services of any kind for a full 8 days before and after the actual birth date. Boys of course can take advantage of the octave, although I’ve never met one who does.
My husband thought he was being cute and witty when he hooked up the new washer and proclaimed “Happy Birthday”. He got the stink eye, a frosty response and a general proclamation that I wanted new dishes for my birthday. Go me.
So far my birthday octave includes one vacation day, 3 dates for cocktails/appetizers, 1 dinner out and a pedicure.
Clearly there is capacity for other Happy Birthday to me type of events. I definitely envision a new pair of boots folded into the mix, especially after the washing machine jab. And they are so richly deserved after the multiple treks to the Park Town Laundry during the 2 longs weeks that I was without a washer.
I think platform boot with the mega heel will look especially fabulous dangling off a barstool whilst sipping a Happy Birthday to me martini. The birthday octave is a stroke of pure genius!
Another candle on the cake. Technically, I’ve officially stopped counting. This makes the whole aging process seemingly less horrific then it truly is. And it is horrific. Whoever says “it’s just a number” hasn’t hit the magical age of 40 where parts of the body break, sag and atrophy at a rate that is staggering. I am not making this up. There is a reason trips to the plastic surgeon have increased for the 40-50 demographic.
Despite my disdain for counting the actual birthday candles, I am a big fan of maximizing birthday celebration opportunities. And I like cake.
My brilliant BFF taught me all about the “birthday octave” wherein the birthday girl is allowed to partake in any and all celebratory occasions, gifts (either received by friends or self purchased), outings, special lunches, dinners, extra trips to Starbucks, new boots, any treats involving chocolate, wine, happy hours or spa services of any kind for a full 8 days before and after the actual birth date. Boys of course can take advantage of the octave, although I’ve never met one who does.
My husband thought he was being cute and witty when he hooked up the new washer and proclaimed “Happy Birthday”. He got the stink eye, a frosty response and a general proclamation that I wanted new dishes for my birthday. Go me.
So far my birthday octave includes one vacation day, 3 dates for cocktails/appetizers, 1 dinner out and a pedicure.
Clearly there is capacity for other Happy Birthday to me type of events. I definitely envision a new pair of boots folded into the mix, especially after the washing machine jab. And they are so richly deserved after the multiple treks to the Park Town Laundry during the 2 longs weeks that I was without a washer.
I think platform boot with the mega heel will look especially fabulous dangling off a barstool whilst sipping a Happy Birthday to me martini. The birthday octave is a stroke of pure genius!
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