I cannot believe that it is November. In fact, I cannot even believe that it is actually autumn. I do not know how Halloween happened. In fact, it barely happened. I have two bins of Halloween decorations, one that remained untouched and the other cracked open moments before trick-or-treaters rang the bell. Somehow we had some decorations, and the kids had costumes, and the trick-or-treaters happened ... and then today, someone mentioned Thanksgiving.
Huh?
Maybe it's being back to work that has me so uninspired ... but that has barely started. Maybe it's the knowledge that we're alone for Thanksgiving, and alone for Christmas, and not travelling for either, that has made me this chill about the holidays. Yeah, that's it, I'm chill.
Which is code for denial.
Friends are posting "pinterests" of skittle-flavored vodka gifts and holiday decor projects. Family members have called to declare their shopping complete. Complete!
Which is code for: "Rox, you'd better get on that."
I'm thinking that this year, we need to wake up on Christmas morning with one thing in each stocking: a plane ticket to someplace unexpected -- someplace warm, someplace where our tiny dog is welcome, someplace where we'll all be happy to be.
But there are still a gazillion relatives to buy gifts for, and hundreds of cards that won't make or address themselves, and, and, and.
It's not that I'm all "bah, humbug," but, well, I kind of am. I don't care for turkey -- none of us do -- and I try to express gratitude regularly, so Thanksgiving? Contrived, to me. And Christmas? I believe in the Reason for the Season, and I really love picking special gifts for people -- really, really love making people happy. But if I have to go to one more store where I already hear Christmas music playing before Thanksgiving is even here, I'm going to scream. I shopping on-line this year, Macy's; leave me alone.
And just when I thought: okay, I have an action plan: start the photobooks next week, take the annual picture on the next sunny day, have gifts ordered by the end of the month, I get a message in my inbox:
"What are your kids doing for summer camp?"
In November.
Rox, you'd better get on that.
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