It’s been a long time. Much longer than I would have liked, trust me. First, though, let me say Happy New Year!
Every time I write a year that starts with “201…” I think to myself, I’m living in the future. Then I check the weather and my email while downloading the latest edition of National Geographic and playing my turn in a game with a friend who lives hundreds of miles away all on a device not much bigger than the palm of my hand. It’s usually in that moment that I have to remind myself that I am living in the future.
I say something similar every year, and maybe that’s just the old part of me. You know, the part of me who wanted to scream “Get off my lawn!” every time someone walked past last night at midnight, the part of me that growled “Damn kids!” every time a firework exploded over my backyard and those kids (the ones with kids of their own) whooped and banged their tartookas, and even the part of me that turned on Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve Party to discover the only face I recognized was Jennie McCarthy who looks the same as she did fifteen years ago. Clearly she’s dipped into Dick Clark, Casey Kasem, and Vanna White’s stash from the Fountain of Youth. Dudes, bottle and share, please.
In any event. It is 2013. The future is now…and…the future..and..okay, this could go on forever, so perhaps I should just let it go for now. Let…it…go.
I can tell you that we (boy, the husband, and I– girl was in bed a-snooze) toasted this New Year with Gatorade. That’s right. We toasted with the delightfully refreshing electrolyte containing concoction of Lemon-Lime Gatorade–the only thing we’d been able to keep down (for the most part) in more than a week. Cheers to us!
Can’t believe it? Well…the dishwasher that I loaded yesterday for the first time since December 25th looked like this:
And these were the only dishes that there were to wash. These were the only dishes for five and a half days. The…only…dishes.
I bought a bottle of laundry detergent the day before Christmas. Three quarters of it is gone. An entire bottle of carpet cleaner– gone. Two boxes of crackers. Six bottles of Gatorade. Five rolls of paper towels. A bottle of Clorox spray cleaner and two cans of Lysol disinfectant. We could write our own “Twelve Days of Christmas” here– one I hope we never sing again. Ever.
Fortunately, despite our extremely miserable mind-numbing, fever dream hallucinating, bone-breaking post-Christmas delirium, the few unpleasant issues prior to Christmas that caused us to cancel our holiday celebration with the extended family on Christmas day did not keep us from enjoying the company of each other. Santa sent the elves ahead, and on Christmas eve, the kids found a package on the doorstep from the Elves themselves containing a care package replete with everything a family needs when they’re stuck inside quarantined from the rest of the world.
The big guy himself wasn’t averse to showing up in his hazmat suit to deliver some gifts.
And he wasn’t even offended when we didn’t make him a snack. The letter left for him indicated that he should feel free to help himself to whatever he wanted in the kitchen. So he did.
And from there we had a subdued, but enjoyably relaxed day.
See that. There’s light outside. That’s how you know everyone was off of their A game. Light outside on Christmas morning = tired everybody.
This year was the year of simplicity. Most of the gifts from us and the guy in the big red hazmat suit consisted of things that were needed: warm and fuzzy blankets, soccer clothes, a jacket, pajamas, a few books– and a few things that were wanted: a telescope with a star chart for Boy, a cd player to replace the ten-year-old worn out one for Girl, and a Lego set for each. Nothing fancy or overboard.
While I could– and do– wish that we’d been able to spend the day with our parents enjoying each other’s company and eating all of the deliciousness that we’d planned for, but subsequently had to throw out, I must admit that we did enjoy the company of just each other. It was a calm, restful, and laid back day. And that, it turns out is what we needed to prepare for the following week.
And here we are on the first day of 2013.
I cooked breakfast this morning: simple, easy scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.
And we ate it.
And it was delicious.
I didn’t get to the store. I honestly don’t know that I’m even up to going today, so no champagne or ham for that traditional New Year’s dinner. But I’ve got a can of black-eyed peas and a bag of rice in the pantry and there’s bacon and baby spinach in the ‘fridge, so we ought to be covered here. And that’s enough for now.
Happy New Year to you and yours.
Love, luck, and lollipops.