I''m Getting Cynical About the Holidays

I'm getting cynical about the holidays and it isn't my fault. I've been duped. Every year January is here after another failed holiday season. In January the year is pristine. Every opportunity awaits. Time is no object. Next December is quite a while away and I can put the Christmas cards that didn't get sent out this year back in the drawer and they'll be there, ready to charge out into the mail this next December. When I have more time to write them out with all the cheery news and season's greetings.

Then July comes, hot weather. I'm singing Christmas carols under my breath to remember what cold weather was like and that hope springs eternal that it will show up again. I feel cooler in the hot weather doing that. It beats darkie songs. Occasionally I sing those as I feel slavish, but I really prefer the Christmas carols for temperature control. (Hey, they're both a part of my heritage, so if you have strong political feelings on the matter, tell someone else.) The fourth of July works out pretty well. How can you miss with the sounds of explosives echoing off the grain elevators? Besides, everyone else is in the fields, I've sneaked off with my sister to enjoy the fireworks. We have iced tea or wine and lay on a blanket under the explosions. We can smell the burned powder. We can feel the concussions as they echo.

Then comes Labor Day. So what, we have to prepare for harvest and are still planting and selling seed. No traveling anywhere that weekend.

Christmas is coming. I can feel it. The spooks are out and October is mellowing everyone, if we can only get the last crop in the bin. Maybe I can quit cooking for a while. I don't like to cook. As soon as harvest is over can put the big pots back into storage. Oh, the bread contest? No one has time? Yes. I'll be there. Where's the stuff from last year? Why did we start hosting a yearly bread contest? Oh, yea, that's right. We sell wheat. Seems a natural thing to do. Yea, I know you can't get off a combine to take care of it.

No one is coming for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year. Thank God. I've found a new author. I'll order in some books and Thanksgiving will just be me and he and the books. Maybe I'll make a fruitcake. I've always wondered if there was a way to make one edible. My darling likes them. I like gingersnaps. Maybe I'll make some of them. I should be on schedule for the holidays. We'll have something simple, like soup. The Christmas cards should be ready to go by the first of December. I'll have all Thanksgiving weekend to write them out.

I went to the store and the turkeys looked good, so why not bring one home and make leftovers out of it. We can then snack on good stuff and have the turkey anytime. And then I got caught bringing home the turkey. The holidays exploded in my face. My darling wants a feast and, hey, let's invite a crowd. Whatever people can't make it on Thanksgiving can come ANY of the rest of the days. The quote was, 'you'd be a hermit if our social life was left up to YOU!' You can't really want to read over having company?

It looks like the Christmas cards may not make it out again this year.