Wednesday, November 28, 2007

It's Bleak, Folks

I can't help but notice that we finally blew off NaBloMe in a big way. I know I keep waiting for Ev to have some bolt of inspiration and blog something, and I suspect she might be hoping I'll pick up the ball and run with it for a few yards, but I'm afraid we're in a slump here in Nowhere, IL.

We kicked it into high gear to get through Thanksgiving, and then ... we tanked. Maybe it was the tryptophan. You see, we thought we were going to have several out-of-town guests for the holiday, so Ev roasted a 25 pound turkey. It turned out to be just us and our veggie-eating girls, so we've been working our way through that Big Bird ever since. Yesterday we finally had to throw out the remains of the pies that had begun to get moldy. No matter how much you love pie it just isn't possible for two women to eat six pies in five days when they have to spend part of every day at work.

Now we're heading into our official Holiday Slump. It's cold and drizzly outside, the leaves have all fallen, the grass is crunchy with frost every morning, the dog has decided it's too fucking cold to go outside to pee, we're burning through our woodpile like (you should pardon the expression) a house afire, we need to whack down another dead tree for more fire wood but the chainsaw is in the repair shop and there are tubs of Christmas decorations in the shed taunting me. I can feel Ev psychologically holding her breath hoping against hope that this year it just won't happen. We won't hang the stockings by the chimney with care. We won't deck the halls with boughs of holly. We won't hear any Christmas music. We won't shop. We won't don our gay apparel. (Well, okay, we'll have to don our gay apparel because the only alternative would be going naked and NO ONE want's that.)

But on the upside, we're going to be visited by our missing sons this Christmas, so there's that to look forward to.

Deep in the innermost reaches of my subconscious I've been dangling "December 1st" in front of my medulla oblongata as a sort of semi-goal for putting away the Thanksgiving decorations and considering the remote possibility of starting to unpack Christmas, but I know that's the first step on the slippery slope that will plunge us into the black hole of despair that only this time of year can bring, so I'm dragging my feet.

And neither of us want to blog. Sorry, but we suck in December, and for all intents and purposes, the last half of November, too.


Anonymous said...

Since I was one of the out-of-town guests who failed to show - I'm sorry, and thanks for eating my share of the bird. Now, to beat the Nov/Dec blues, grab your skates, skis, snowshoes, or whatever, and COME ON UP! Robin

Ev said...

You must have forgotten who you're talking to. We don't skate, ski OR snowshoe, but we're Olympic-level sitter-arounders, readers, and watchers of crime shows on tv.

I'd still like to come up, but not until you promise me that there'll be no exercise beyond a few 12 ounce curls.

Anonymous said...

We're partial to the 40 ozers around here. We call em "road sodies" and toss them out on the highway as we're speeding past. Along with our meth refuse that we toss into the river. So come on up, teeth are optional. Robin

Suzanne said...

I didn't make NaBloPoMo either, which is funny because I post almost every day of the year anyway. It's good when life gets in the way of blogging because we are eating and hanging out.