Die Hard and Ham

They’re about to start playing Yule music everywhere you go. Honestly, they started even before Samhain; pretty soon the consumerism ramp-up will begin in July. I despise Yule music with a passion; it partakes of my feelings around the entire holiday. Especially my feelings from when I worked retail and saw overstimulated children dragged around by tired, snappish parents. The world might be better off if we stopped this ridiculousness, but as long as there’s money to be made we won’t.

Which is pretty par for the course with humanity, really.

You can probably tell I’m in a Monday mood. I’m sure lots of people really like Yule, but it was always such a source of stress and tension growing up I am allergic to the very mention. I’ve always seen it as a great pretense–people pretending to love their family get-togethers, people pretending they have the cash to spend on unwelcome gifts, you get the idea. Add in the fact that no gift I received as a child was permanently given or free1 and you can see why I just want to cancel the whole thing.

Fortunately, my kids feel the exact opposite way. To them, Yule has always been a soft, relaxing time, full of good food and happiness. It makes me feel good to see their joy; indeed, it’s the only reason I participate in the holiday anymore. But even so, I’d really like it if the whole thing didn’t send its tentacles creeping out to strangle other holidays I like better.

…it’s over a month away and already I’m done with the bullshit, it’s going to be a long holiday season.

In any case, there is a gentle jog to accomplish on my strained ankle, possibly while a dog or two tries to re-injure me, and there’s work to be done. There’s always work to be done, and perhaps I can work straight through all the foolishness and only start decorating on the solstice.

It’s worth a shot.

At least there will be Die Hard and ham, and a ham bone means split-pea soup. Which the kids despise, even after I christened it Dragon Snot Soup, so there’s more for me. It requires fresh bread, too, and that’s always a fun task. Now that I’ve finished my yearly complaining, I’ll be turning on my “ignore” blinkers and moving ahead.

Just kidding. I’ll complain more in the weeks to come. It’s a holiday tradition, after all.

*snork* Over and out.

Notes

  1. I paid for every damn parental “gift” in emotional or physical pain.
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John Jamison
John Jamison

Yes, I too hate the yule season. I feel like the last good holiday of the year is Halloween. I have endless stories of the horrors of the holidays between my undiagnosed depressed Mom who kept Dad on the edge of annoyance. The year always culminated in a huge argument between Mom and Dad in the middle of a winter night.