"i'll have a booze, booze christmas."

my family has been known to enjoy our booze from time to time. there have been entire vermont family reunions that are lost to my memory all because of my aunt's vodka slush. it starts with a large plastic bucket (because we like to keep it classy) into which you toss some frozen lemonade, some coco lopez, some pineapple juice, and then as much vodka as you can fit into the container. plop this into your freezer and once it's frozen and slushy, scoop some into a glass and top it off with sprite or 7up… you know, to "cut the sweetness". nothing is better on a hot summer day than burying your face in frosty glass of vodka slush.

christmas bit me in the ass.

The pressure that is put upon us during the holiday season is stunning. I used to love Christmas. I would host a cocktail party or two, and then attend a cocktail party (or four). I would savor my shopping experiences by strolling leisurely through any number of malls while sipping a peppermint mocha, purchasing only the most heart-felt of presents which I would take my sweet, delicate time wrapping in the prettiest of papers and curviest of bows. Come Christmas day, my only worries were what I would drink before noon as I noshed and sloshed my way through the holiday. I would then get to sit down to a fabulous meal crafted by my mother, my only concerns being if the red wine I picked out would complement the meal, and if my Parker House Rolls had properly risen.

But now that I’m a mom? I’m expected to bake at least four or five different varieties of sweet Christmas goodies and cookies; decorate my house; pick out and then trim a tree; buy and wrap presents; take the kids to a tree farm, to a Christmas parade, to the mall to see Santa… all the while keeping a holiday-spirit-has-snuck-up-and-bit-me-in-the-ass-and-I’m-LOVIN’-it smile on my face (shortened henceforth as Christmas Bit Me in the Ass, or CBMA) to set a good example for my children and make lasting happy memories for them, proving that the generous and merry spirit that is in the air at Christmastime is what makes it all possible.

always wear your underpants (or, viral meningitis part II)

my apologies that it has taken me over a month to compose myself enough to write part two. (if you would like to hear all about part one of my meningitis saga, please click here. thank you, kindly.)

now, where were we? oh yes. i had been medically discharged from work by the onsite doctor at headquarters, and told to go to the emergency room with the words “i think you may have meningitis…”. upon hearing those words, i imagined myself touching the face of god Herself (i.e., dying) and decided that if this was the last time i’d be at my desk, i should probably tidy up a bit. i threw away a 2-day old yogurt cup sitting on my desk, and crossed off at least half of the items on my “to do” list.