Last weekend, Diana and the dogs and I went to my mother’s house to make Christmas cookies. This is a tradition that’s been in my family for as long as I’ve been alive: one day in December we gather an industrious team and start cutting cookies out and baking them and then decorating them with icing my mother mixes up in bowls and then tints with food coloring. The cast changes from year to year based on who of the family is in town and which friends dear to us that we’ve gathered near to us, but it is a family ritual that marks the apex of the holiday season and the steep decline towards New Years.
Tonight we went to my friend Betsy’s Christmas / Birthday party. It is both kinds of party because she is one of those people with a latter December birthday that seems like a curse when you are a kid. Her parties are always fun because she has surrounded herself with a great variety of friends that love her. It is obvious that we are all crazy about Betsy and that she represents something special in all of our lives. We all think she deserves every happiness because she is wonderful. That sounds like hyperbole but it is not. If I could draw a direct analogy between Betsy and mythology to describe what kind of person she is, I would say without hesitation that she is the human version of a unicorn.
Over the years, the running joke about me driving anywhere has been that I was born without a sense of direction. I get lost very easily and, as a potential remedy to that shortcoming, Diana’s big Christmas present to me last year was a GPS navigator. It made driving a joy as I could finally focus on driving rather than wondering where the hell I was. Tonight we loaded into the car and Diana punched in Betsy’s new address and we took off for a simple and pleasant drive.
However, just as we were zeroing in on the house in The Colony, the Tom Tom turned on me. Without any notice, the suction cup gave way and the whole apparatus crashed directly from the windshield into my lap. When I pulled over to collect my thoughts and stop crying after the direct hit on my business, I put on the hazards. It is, after all, the season to think of other people.
Your first mistake was going to The Colony. Tom Tom just had the good sense to try and get as far away as possible.
This isn’t a rip on your friends so much as an indictment of The Colony.
Actually, the neighborhood was wicked Christmasy. We’ve ended up on yet another block full of cheerless bastards who can’t be bothered to put up lights, so seeing the overblown displays was sort of nice. Your indictment of The Colony is understandable, but only seeing it out the window of the car at night made it sort of nice.
I know how you are with Christmas, so I totally understand. I’m waiting for the day when you guys get the 30 footer for the backyard that triples your electric bill for the month and requires a zoning variance.