It’s New Year’s Eve. We have eaten our roasted pepper soup, enjoyed a cheese plate and look forward to our pal Jan’s shortbread, as we toast a CNN New Year’s. In San Diego, this means we can go to bed shortly after 9:00. I have to admit, I will be ready for an early bedtime. This has been a difficult season, to be sure.
Despite some party invites, we are staying at home, mostly because I feel emotionally pooped. I never know when the holiday gremlins will show up, but they did this year, in force.
My first hint of their arrival was when I burst into tears a week ago Monday, looking for red tulips to honor my folks. I used to take them to the cemetery, but in recent years they decorate a nice photo of my parents. After two visits to reliable florists, I fell on the florist at our local supermarket, who sold me two bunches of perfect tulips for a bargain.
I plodded through Christmas Eve and Day, thankful for support from Larry and the arrival of our friend for two nights. George lost his beloved wife last February, yet was such a charming and easy guest – everything worked. Jan was a delightful addition to the day, sharing stockings and treats.
But shortly thereafter, Larry dropped something and chipped our sink in the new bathroom of 35 years. I fell apart and I am still apologizing for the tantrum that ensued. A new sink sits in the garage, awaiting the (expensive) installation by our reliable contractor.
OK, the tree is down and recycled, the roses are pruned and we will celebrate the New Year at a huge gathering tomorrow at Jan’s mid-day. Larry and I will walk the beach at Coronado in the morning.
The kitties are aging – here is Buddy, arthritic at 13, but ever my loving boy. I celebrate them every day, the heart of our household. Who knows who long any of us will last?
As my mother would say, “Pull yourself together, Elizabeth Ann!”
I’m trying, Mama.