December, Remembered

For the past several years, December—arguably my favorite month of the year—has disappeared in a disconcerting flurry of shopping, cooking, inevitable colds, social obligations, card-sending, and all-around stress. By the time it's over, I have little memory of what occurred; all I know for sure is that the person looking back at me in the mirror needs a vacation and several spa treatments. But this year, I'm making a change. This year, I am reclaiming December! How, Ver? How are you reclaiming December? Please tell me so that I too may recapture the glory that once was. I'm doing it by adding yet another thing to my to-do list. Oh, but Ver, that sounds so antithetical to your stated purpose. Please explain.

[Aside: can anyone pinpoint the exact moment I started to talk to myself on this blog? I'm turning into one of those women with 400 cats who applies blush too liberally and wears a tinfoil visor so nobody can steal my thoughts...]

Anyways, this task that I've decided to undertake will leave behind a record of at least one thing that happened each day of the month. Every night so far, I've plunked my personage down somewhere and decorated these chipboard thingies. Here are the fronts of days one thru three:


And this is what's on the back. I haven't filled in the text blocks yet, but that's the least of my worries:



I guess it's kind of a twist on an advent calendar? I'm not sure. If I actually end up with thirty-one of these at the end of the month, I'm gonna do a little dance, videotape it, upload it to You Tube, and post it here.

You wish.

***

Writer's group was so excellent last night. I was in a goofy mood, probably because I hadn't eaten and had made the drive into the city with my heat seater turned all the way up while singing along at the top of my lungs to John Legend. I also double-dosed on Claritin because there's a dog at S's home. S's wife, who teaches in the writing program at USF, was holding her final class of the semester at the house, too, so in my deranged mind I set up this faux war between the groups and encouraged my fellow members to engage in some mayhem. "Let's fight them," I whispered. "Come on. I can totally take that guy in the argyle sweater."

But enough about my nonsense. I had my work-in-progress up for discussion and was so energized and encouraged by the conversation that I shirked today's errands and slipped into the library for some uninterrupted writing time. And then I was so pleased with my output that I took myself to lunch before rushing home to host a playdate for Lea. Now the girls are building some sort of Lego kingdom, there's a pot of picadillio simmering on the stove, the Christmas lights are on, and nobody is yelling, "Mama! Mama! Mama!" You know what that's called? A very good day. Plus, we're forcing bulbs and the first one has just opened:


[insert lame smiley face emoticon—possibly sporting a Santa Claus hat—here]