It’s the 11th of December … ack! … and it might as well be July for all the festive, criscringle, deck-dos-halls-itis I don’t have even a touch of.
Just the thought of digging out my three-foot-tall, rotating, fake Christmas tree sends my mood south and pins me to my office chair while visions of “later, maybe” dance in my head.
With the month starting off with a nasty cow canning my ass from my blog job, refusing to give any reason whatsoever, and then scurrying into her dim little hidey-hole to keep from having to account for her actions, then learning that my darling of a foster son will soon be moving far beyond any observable distance, my mood isn’t exactly in sync with any jingling bells on bob tails ringing.
(And, yes, I’m still bitter and angry over the treatment I got from Brandy and her masters at Adoption.com. If you miss reading me there … or if you’d simply like to annoy her … here’s an email address where you can mention my name, and call her a few if you like: 4802865086@cingularme.com)
Not that I have really been overcome with Christmas cheer since moving to the tropics; temperatures in the upper 80s just aren’t conducive to conjuring a feeling of walking in a winter wonderland.
It’s amazingly hard to build happy holiday traditions and memories in this heat and glaring sunshine for Sam and Cj … I have to accept that their ho-ho-hos will be all about barefoot Santas and tinsel on coconut trees … when the holiday is so loaded with me missing my other kids and the rest of my family.
I can almost capture the smell of freshly cut pine, my mother’s kitchen and the smoky frigid air of the Northern California December … well, right up until the time that I need to crank up the aircon in my office to keep the sweat pouring from my fingers from freezing up my laptop.
Like most holidays in Seychelles, for a big part of the population this one is about drinking to excess and hanging around. Attempts at wrangling up Christmas spirit are weak, at best, and I can’t help but think I’d handle the holiday a bit better with fewer stabs at decking the halls. (See photos.)
I have twelve days to pump myself up for the holiday, but quite a few less to begin, middle and finish the prep that needs doing.
Yikes! What am I doing sitting here kvetching. I need to get in gear, order some gifts for family in the US, break out the tree, find some wrapping paper somewhere on this island, put together a menu for our obligatory Christmas Eve open house, and on and on and on.
This will be a great time for Sam and Cj, and I will enjoy the holiday through their eyes. I will, however, still be glad when it’s over.
Sam with the village Christmas decor … sigh
A local shop in full Christmas mode. Yep. That’s it. Isn’t the razor wire a nice touch?
A collection of my short stories:
I'm in this one, too ...
And I'm in here, as well ...
Paradise Preoccupied 