Twas just 5 days before Christmas and perhaps a little hungover from a NICU cocktail party, tired from the Dance Stars Christmas Dance Recital and relieved after sending off that final gift and getting all the other gifts under The Big Top tree, I felt like celebrating because that is what the best holiday elves do.
Of course the challenge is to get these circus clowns to do it because they are at work or playing in San Francisco or shopping or just super annoyed because we are twelve turning thirteen very, very soon. Yes, they are quite certain that I am crazy. Then there is my darling husband. Yeah, he definitely didn’t any part of this silliness because he is sliding fast into get-off-my-lawn grumpy old man status.
How’s your holiday shopping/decorating/wrapping going?
Yes, we have just six (OMG!) more days to go but don’t stress…too much. Unless you haven’t started at all and plan to hit the malls on the last Saturday before Christmas.
Ask anyone in retail.
Me, I have no plans to be shopping this weekend. Perhaps then I will get the stockings hung by the chimney with care…after the Christmas recital.
Of course this means I need to finish up getting a few gifts more and stocking stuffers now.
And as I work my up and down practically every aisle, mentally ticking off my list, I pass more than a few people slumped and slouched over their carts. It’s not a good look. It makes my back hurt just looking at them.
I’m slouched and slumped over my cart too.
No wonder my back hurts.
Standing up straight as I push my shiny red cart, I continue to work my way up and down practically every aisle.
The struggle is real.
If you’re still scratching your head over what to gift me, the girl who doesn’t have everything, a massage would be perfect…absolutely perfect.
(almost) Everyone has at least one…one pair of perfect blue jeans. The pair that fits your shape perfectly in every way that you want it to. They are perfectly broken in. Perhaps they have been that way since Day 1 because you paid the extra coin for them in their perfect wearable destruction; or maybe they have been worn to perfection through the days, weeks, months and years that you have worn them. You slip them on and they hug every curve and edge exactly how you want them to. They are your old friend that you can dress up, dress down, grunge around in or just chill in.
Your favorite pair of jeans.
Your perfect pair of jeans.
Your most favorite, perfect pair of jeans.
Then today you slip them on and lo, they have become distressed and destroyed in such a way that is most certainly not fashionable, or repairable and…
Oh stop judging! I know you get it because I know you too have that pair of jeans and even if you don’t, it’s my blog and I’ll self-indulgently mourn for the jeans that I have worn perfectly for longer than my first grandbaby has been alive if I want to.
By the way, that grandbaby is 6½ years old and she STILL hasn’t lost any baby teeth.
Let us all now pause for a moment of silent meditation for the perfect pair of blue jeans lost.
Thanksgiving is just two weeks away and I have no clue what we are doing here under the Big Top. I know that I am not scheduled to work. I know that last year Thanksgiving was, well, it just was and it was enough that I declared that perhaps we should just take off Bill, Daniel and me and do anything but Thanksgiving. But now that it is fast approaching I have no idea what to do…but I do know that this wins.
From 2011, Norman Rockwell…Stefon…perfection that wins Thanksgiving, the Internet, the World and definitely answers the question “Buh-whaaa?”