It is December. I know, right? This means that a quick look/add session with my google calendar this morning caused a miniature anxiety attack. You know, the kind of anxiety attack that is the size of the tiny stars that erupt behind your eyelids when you like press your knuckles against your eye sockets in the face of sheer overwhelmed exhaustion at the thought of one more holiday cookie (not that I could ever feel that way about a cookie, who do you think I am?!).
So, of course, because I’m an intense guy, and like to go about things all wrong – I then spent the next 20 minutes creating two google calendars in the face of my one extremely over taxed one. One is made up of things that I absolutely must show up for, even if I’ve literally chewed off my own hands or something with stress. The other, consists of things that I can miss, grovel to the organizer about, and possibly be forgiven because I was actually princess and the pea-ing out in my bed or something.
Really, if I get all zen about this jam, I should just be damn glad that people like me and want to see my face in The Holidays. I mean, I seriously am. The Holidays (as we know) are a very strange time where everyone wants to be reallycloselikethisclose to each other because that is what we are supposed to want. Also, I have some dear sweet friends who are just about obsessed with this particular winter wonderland of feelings and that shit is contagious. I’m not going to lie, I get a little chipper with some sort of pine-smelling-sweater-wearing-spirit sometimes. Like, the weekend after Thanksgiving when I did my annual duty and spent six icicle filled hours hanging lights, pushing psychedelic light up candy canes into the yard, and making four manic trips to homo depot in the middle of the night with a home owning friend. Halfway through, his elderly neighbor walked across the street (as we took a moment to survey our work and figure out “where the holes in our design” lay) and exclaimed with wonder, “HOLY SHIT!” After she walked away, I thought that she had really just accurately explained my winter feelings. We were so hopped up on caffeine that in order to finally come down, said friend’s amazing wife took pity on us and made us a plate of nachos (thanks again). I got home at nearly one a.m. only to dream about the National Lampoon’s sized twinkle coming from his cul-de-sac. Seriously, its beautiful, and this is what the holigays are all about.
The next two weekends are packed full of teeth chattering cheer with things like snowshoeing, cookie exchange programs, and lots of hot holiday beverages. Last night a buddy and I drank one of my faves (a hot toddy) and had music nerd time. This (though not a necessarily December related activity) brings a particular warmth to my heart. In a few weeks a sweet visitor from Portland and I have a plan to connect in that external-hard-drive-full-of-music way and I cannot wait. “Happy Holigays to me!” I plan on screeching, as I pillage her fantastic collection.
So, on that note. PEACE (and feathered hair) BE WITH YOU.