Another year is here, at least for some of the planet. I’m thinking about all the people waking up to new resolutions and having none myself this year – other than to enjoy enjoy enjoy – I’m wondering if we put too much pressure on the January 1st.
If January 1st were a person I imagine it to be an neurotic elderly lady who wears a rather ostentatious red hat and one the other days avoid. She’s under a lot of pressure, they say to each other as she walks down the street. Some may even cross the road to avoid her. They wouldn’t want to get into a conversation after a harmless “how are you, January 1st?” was uttered politely. They remember the morning March 15th was trapped in the bakery for two hours listening to the outrageous resolutions that fell on her shoulders in 2008. It was a particularly difficult year and she still has a small eye twitch.
This year I will not add to January 1st’s load.
Instead I have hopes, and they are hopes because they are out of my hands. My hopes are that my family remain well and happy, that my two boys at university enjoy each day even though the work load is heavy. I hope my husband is not too stressed with work this year and that my youngest son stays as sweet and funny that the age of thirteen allows him to be.
What I have of myself are expectations. I expect that I will continue writing and continue loving life each and every day.
I wish, readers, that your hopes and expectations that you place on yourself remain solid through out 2015, and that January 1st can put her feet up and get some group therapy with February 14th and December 31.
This seems to be the question of the moment. I’ve been asked a dozen times in the lift by neighbours trying not to peer into my shopping bags.
For the first time in my life, I am hosting Christmas for the whole family. That means 22 people in my apartment, one new Christmas tree, three hired tables, 14 hired chairs, one tired old dining table with her tired old chairs, four different kinds of meats, vegetables Maggie Beer would be proud to grow, wine, and a husband who is sick of “just pop out and get me some figs will you honey?”
What are figs? Really, he asked that.
Normally Christmas is held at my mother-in-laws, but now that we are firmly ensconced in the area once again, it’s now mine. Had you asked me yesterday how the preparations for Christmas are going I’d have fallen to the floor with a dramatic faint, but today I am in control. It’s amazing what setting the table will do for you. Oh, and wine. Lots of wine.
I am having a relaxing moment watching Kirstie Allsop teach me how to decorate a tree after shopping for groceries with every other Christmas host on the planet – yes I forgot the figs.
So I ask. Where are you having Christmas?
Before the family descends on me in the morning, I am enjoying a quiet moment with a glass of wine and a quiet table.