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12-18-09 // 8:09 pm season's greetings I sorted out my mopey seasonal shit, faced up to the fact that this same garbage happens every year, took steps to address it, and in the meantime got down to business. Last weekend I hit the reset button a bit. Took a mental health day on Friday (well, I had a doctor's appointment in the AM but I parlayed that and a scheduled half day into a full day off), went out to Pho Grand with super awesome friends, wandered back to my place for beers, exchanged a few Christmas presents, that sort of thing. Fantastic. Saturday I was mildly, pleasantly hungover, walked like 6 miles around the city, then went out again with mas friends that night. Sunday I was feeling it a bit but I was smiling. So I fueled up on coffee, the Sunday Times, tunes & cereal and eventually got dressed and walked 8+ miles. Brilliant. I was already feeling back on track, but socialization, brews, rest, and sunlight went a long way towards shaking me by the proverbial lapels. This week's been a grueling one, full of 2-3 concurrent projects at work, finishing up Xmas shopping, wrapping, and card writing, and attempting to cram in time to write (with the gusto and attention I'd like to give it) my Top 10 albums of 2009 list for Playback. Hot damn! I'm absolutely spent. It's Friday night, and I've got a pint of Sam Smiths brown ale, I'm wrapping, I'm writing out cards, I'm cranking the tunes, and I might have another beer. Make that "will have another beer." Tomorrow's my mom's side of the family's "Christmas Eve," traditionally what I think of as Christmas Proper. For many, many years it was on Christmas Eve itself, no matter if it was a weekday, if people had been working all day, whatever. That night, you bundled up, and that's where you were. My grandma, grandpa, my mom, my dad, my mom's 5 siblings, and associated significant others and kids. On the best years, my aunts and uncles were even in from southern California. There were stories and treats and songs on the stereo, and this indescribably wondrous glowing warmth that I still think of to this day. So we do the family Xmas Eve on the Saturday before Xmas these days, now that my grandparents are too frail to host and cook, and so to accommodate extended families, getting older, and well, the fact that the world moves at a different, weirder pace than it did 20 years ago. But this is it, it's still it. Traditions like my grandpa in some gloriously awful holiday sweater, breaking the oplatek and blessing/giving thanks for our family; that ancient red pot full of roast beef and gravy; the '60s style three-tiered silver tray thing stuffed with Christmas cookies; the obligatory pickle and olive tray; glasses of wine, colored lights, and a steamy kitchen, hustle, bustle, a half dozen conversations going at once, togetherness, peace, and love. It sounds cheesy but it's beautiful. I absolutely adore that the traditions have hung together, albeit in slightly modified forms, all these years. It's too important to let it fall by the wayside; "time marches on" shouldn't be an excuse. So, cheers. Raise a glass to friends, family, good fortune, best laid plans, hard work, and the fruits of your labor. Again, it's my inner hippie talking, but let the peace and love flow. Screw the mad, commercial, capitalist rush that our society wants you to buy into -- the spiritual warmth is what this time of year's really about. NB - This entry accompanied by singing and air guitaring along with Marillion's The Great Escape.
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