Welcome to the (Christmas) jungle.
I am your new Christmas overlord.
My lifelong yuletide conditioning has finally borne fruit (specially, Christmas oranges).
I watched “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” over the weekend… with the sound off… and quoted the whole shebang…. without missing a beat.
I even feigned a magnificent beast of an accent.
You all realize what this means, right?
This means that I am Christmas fit!
I sweat sugarplums!!I bench Santa AND his sleigh AND the reindeer!!!
Next stop: perfecting the choreography of “White Christmas.”
Nothing is impossible, people.
In other news, if you pay attention to Advent, this week is all about hope.
I’ll be honest… hope has really never been my favorite, but I suspect that’s because I’ve never had to hope for basic survival, or food to feed my children, or for ends to meet. There are, of course, things that I hope for, but when those hopes are dashed or deferred, my situation doesn’t really change. My disappointment doesn’t signal the end of anything critical. I still have shoes and a job and x-number of meals a day.
Hope has always felt rather like a pointless exercise to me, as I don’t feel that have any big, earth-shattering things to hope for, and the little things don’t come to fruition. I also don’t know that a concept such as hope is necessary for someone like me, since I tend to do better without it.
Of course, it’s possible that I don’t really understand what hope really is, SO I’m digging in this week and exploring the basic, raw definition (without the happy platitudes that make me want to buff my own skin off with a belt sander).
Updates will be forthcoming.
I don’t promise that they’ll be interesting.
A man’s got to know his limitations.