It is not safe even in the privacy of one's own home to avoid the harrassment and emotional blackmail that is the Christmas season. And it has not had the decency of even waiting for the greiving to pass over Dead Bird Day. Already, the demonspawn device in the living room is airing Holiday adverts complete with snow, blinking lights, and guilt-laden rosy-cheeked nymphs hawking anything from new cars to expensive jewelry to cellular phones and torturuous family dinners postively ruined because someone could not use the right spice! I have enough worries of my own. I do not need any diamonds that look like pieces of ice to remind of the horror that is the winter holiday season. I do not need to worry about my spice rack. I have grown my own herbs for years, and if the local cats do not destroy them in their natural habits, I can do very well without buying any of them. Even when out shopping -- Why I was just admiring Halloween costumes to the tune of Jingle Bells. I was primed for disappointment to find a Mr. and Mrs. Claus costumes. In fact, I rather think anyone showing up at a party for Halloween so attired should be drawn and quartered. But it is an appropriate costume to hand out candy in for the little blighters with the temerity to even knock on my door. After all, Mrs. Claus is very giving, and even I can pretend to be generous once a year.

But I digress.

Even the radio is full of hints and guilt trips and threats of the joy to come as the family must gather. Frank is already pestering me about whose family shall expect us and when and what to bring. Truly I have no idea. His mother is a terrible cook, and will not permit me to help her in the kitchen. I must bite my tongue the entire time in politeness and it is plainly exhausting. Her home is so slovenly, the last time we stayed over, I brought my own sheets. Frank has insisted on hotels since then, and I am not sure if that is worse. And if we go to my mothers, she natters on and on about puppies and kitties and duckies, that I am made physically ill. I cannot bear that any easier. It is better with my brother there, for she will focus on him and I may fade into the kitchen, and cook for everyone.

What I truly would love would be to just stay home. Oh what a joy it would be to just be home for the holidays! Just Frank and myself underneath the tree. No stress. No worries. No need really for presents- most of the time he forgets anyway. And I could cook all day in all of the colors and no one, not one person, would dare object to guacamole with the turkey. Bliss.
  ¶ 7:42 AM