Zuzu's petals!

For the past several days, I've had the Eagles' recent top forty hit "How Long" running on an endless loop through my head. Which is sort of weird. Love the Eagles, but generally it's "Little Drummer Boy" that gets stuck this time of year. So last night, I sat down and listened to the lyrics. Apparently, my subconscious has been telling me to get a grip, already.

See, me and Christmas have never been the best of buds. For years, I blamed my distaste for the season on a difficult childhood that made Christmas a crapshoot from one year to the next. Too many presents under the tree invariably meant that somebody, somewhere had cut corners on the light bill, the rent, the necessary amount of fuel oil for the furnace, and we’d be paying the price sooner than later. Add to that the added layer of excitement that celebrating the holidays with an alcoholic in the house always lends to the proceedings, and...well. I used to figure I had a good reason to be Grinchy on a regular basis.

And every year, something happens. Usually it’s something small. Inconsequential. Nothing more than the merest excuse to ruin my mood and churn up a whole butt-load of “Bah! Humbug” in my wretched little soul. Next thing you know, I’m drowning in a toxic brew of eggnog and self-pity.


Like a bluebird with his heart removed
Lonely as a train
I've run just as far as I can run
If I never see the good old days
Shinin' in the sun
I'll be doin' fine and then some

How long, how long
Woman, will you weep?
How long, how long
Rock yourself to sleep


Last year? It was the fully-decorated tree crashing down TWICE into the center of our living room and smashing ornaments right and left that ruined Christmas for me. It made me ANGRY. And part of me STAYED angry, although it was nobody’s fault and like I said...just an excuse.


I've been doin' time in a lonesome prison
Where the sun don't shine
And just outside the freedom river runs
Out there in that shiny night
With bloodhounds on your mind
Don't you know it's the same sad situation?

How long, how long
Woman, will you weep?
How long, how long
Rock yourself to sleep


This year? Not such a little thing. Darling Daughter has come down with a painful illness. Until yesterday, said painful illness stumped the local medical community – including her sainted and hardworking father – and had her mother (that would be moi) scared shitless and courting nightmares of flesh-eating bacteria.

There were puzzled frowns, and long recitations of health history, and threatened tests that involved needles and CAT scans of her skull, while Mama Bear tried to drown her stress in raw cookie dough and neglected her writing, her domestic duties, and most everything but Darling Daughter and the obsessive playing of online Solitaire to quiet the demons that whispered of evil, face-consuming microscopic bugs.


Everybody feels all right
You know, I heard some poor fool sing...
(Somebody oooh...)
Everyone is out there on the loose
Well, I wish I lived in the land of fools
Where no one knew my name
But what you get is not quite what you choose

Tell me, how long, how long
Woman, will you weep?
How long, how long
Rock yourself to sleep


But today? Dawned new and bright and shiny. Modern medicine prevails, Darling Daughter is nearly back to her charming self, and that cookie dough is about to meet a hot oven by way of a greased pan. There are presents to be bought and other presents to be wrapped, clothes to be laundered and meals to be cooked, homework to be checked and writing to be done. And seriously...how long can one woman weep over stuff that happened thirty years ago?

I’ve decided that just as I can choose to be happy on a daily basis no matter what circumstances serve up, I can choose to enjoy Christmas.

Well...it's a work in progress. But I'm really, really trying.

And this I know for sure: Self-pity is for suckers, and it is, in fact, a Wonderful Life.


How long, how long
Muddy river runs so deep

How long, how long
Goodnight baby, rock yourself to sleep
Sleep tight, baby, rock yourself to sleep
Buh-buh-buh bye bye, baby, rock yourself to sleep

SelahMarch.com – Romance of Dubious Virtue