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December 2013

The Christmas card

 (Thank you for your comments on the Address Book Of Doom.  You're so nice. Mine awaits its conversion to digital format any day now before it finally gets consigned to a dark box in the attic.)

Not a great week chez Pearl. Betty is back, making me fumble the simplest decisions. The Betty-headed stupidity included:

  • Asking my fellow alto in the choir, in a panic: "Music, where's my music?"  
    "In your hand."  

(Turns out she is an actual psychiatrist, which is good or bad, according to your point of view.

I earned myself another entry in her log book later. We were talking about going running. "I  have to go first thing in the morning, before the voices start," I told her. "I don't have any voices in my head" she responded. I was torn between a sort of Pfft! No voices - no imagination! attitude and a craven need to reassure her that they don't tell me to do anything really bad. Small potatoes, really, of the might as well finish the cake now since I've been "even-ing it up" for so long that it's nearly gone order.)

  • Then I actually bit my tongue so it bled for ages. DUH.
  • Committed the fatal reply-instead-of-forward email error when anwering an email from my service provider. RE-DUH. This one is too boring to explain. Just trust me: embarrassing.


Meanwhile I was slowly and dimly producing some cartoons for the market on Sunday. It snowed. It froze. There were very few visitors. We stall-holders traded stuff between ourselves which was really nice, if not exactly the point. Then we went home.

I am scheduling an existential crisis for later in the week. Career, personal, family, adoption stuff: no stone will remain unturned as I try to work out what the blazes to do next. So there's that to look forward to. HOWEVER. Let us attempt a little good cheer, shall we? It is, after all, the day afore Christmas and in that spirit, I offer you this:

Card
Wherever you are, and whatever the 25th December means to you, I wish you much peace and good cheer - peaceful cheer, if you will.  Thank you for persisting with me through 2013.

"See" you before New Year.  Be well, all.

T


c'est le bummeur

Maybe I missed that day in school when they explained how to break it off with or (even, Merciful Hour) just let go of old friends, because I have always been completely at sea with all that. I wish there was some sort of convention you could follow, as with romantic relationships:

Look, it's not you, it's me. You're a lovely person. I'm just not in the right place. Let's be fr-

-- oh, no, wait. Let's not be friends, actually. Let's not. 
So there's that scenario: the old friend from whom you have grown apart.

Then, even more demoralising, are the friends with whom you share whole meaningful chunks of your life, but from whom you were forced apart by life or experience; these are often lovely people, but life or experience has somehow divided you. The one who married the fellow who failed to see your charms (THE CHEEK) or the one who gave birth on your due date, (such a kind, deep person. Sigh.), the Italians who you left behind in Italy, and seem to take this as a personal affront. The school friends who just seem uber conventional. The college friends who have emigrated.

This crisis is an annual thing, brought about by The Christmas. The Christmas means you send The Christmas Cards, and since my memory is a sieve, not a rolodex, I must consult this book of obsolescence, doom and melancholy:

Address_book

Do you have such a thing? It is about 15 years old, which is old for an address book. Isn't it? Lifetimes have gone by. Divergent paths have been chosen. People have moved, died. It's full of crossed out dead addresses.

But. What should I do with the blinking thing? Put it out to grass? Hide it in a library? Slip it down the back of the radiator? Burn it in a midnight ceremony? After all, my now-friends reside in digital format now on my pc, that being the way of the world. So, out with the old? 

Advice welcome. Have a good weekend, all.
T