In the Bleak Mid-Winter
Tonight, as we were coming home from a New Year's Day dinner, I noticed our Christmas tree laying like a cold carcass next to our curb. Earlier in the day, I undressed it and Chup hauled it outside where the Provo Christmas tree clean-up crew could find it, and take it to where all bygone Christmas trees go . . . heaven. Seeing my once-beautiful white fir tree all naked and pale on the side of the unforgiving road made for a harsh realization.
The holiday vacation is over.
It went out with a bang last night as my family gathered to shoot fireworks and eat cheese fondue at Page's. Earlier, Lucy and Ric came over to fine-tune their Rock Band skills and drink bitter not-wine. Chup and I kissed at midnight, or sometime around there, and spent the few first moments of 2008 listening to Mika's "Love Today" joined by a crowded street of related revelers.
But tonight, as we watch the Sugar Bowl (go Bulldogs!) Chup and I are quiet. We know what tomorrow means. Just like Santa comes in the night on Christmas Eve, so visits the Spirit of Back-to-Work tonight leaving only the present of a cold, long January.
Why do we all set ourselves for it?
Granted I don't work, but it pains me to see those who have to go back to the office, or school, or even the cafeteria. For me, in my life, it means that I can no longer put off my laundry and my Holiday Cash Reserve is as dry as the winter wind (do you have some good chapstick?) mingled with morning vomit breaks with simultaneous loss of bladder control. Awe-some.
But this is c jane enjoy it. Not c jane complain. And so I look to my new little mug set, the very style that I've drunk out of in European cafés, to save my cheerless soul. I like to warm up vanilla soy milk, melt a couple teaspoons of dark chocolate, pour into the blender and frappe (now a verb!) until there is a thick foam. Then drink. (P.S. I am too practical to use the word "savor" where "drink" will do.)
And there is also the fact that Chup gifted me with a shiny, tight keyboard-synth a few days before Christmas. I intend to practice every hymn in the LDS hymn book this year until I can zip them out on demand. I have a feeling one day that I'll be called as the Primary Pianist and it's never late to start practicing. Maybe tomorrow I will start with There is Sunshine in My Soul . . . with a Calypso beat! Why not? Okay!
Lastly, I also have a new calendar for the kitchen, a collection of Waterhouse's finest. Nothing stimulates romanticism like a passionate Pre-Raphaelite. Chup has had a long love affair with his Lady of Shalott.
Do you think I look like her? Be honest.
Well, it is time for bed. I retire hoping that everyone also had such a wonderful holiday vacation that it is equally hard to see tomorrow arrive. And if you live in Arizona have some fresh squeezed orange juice in a mug for me . . . and I'll raise to you a cheer for my heaven-bound Christmas tree.
