I’m not getting excited for a new year. Bring on 2022. I guess
Lucy Van Pelt can only fool me so many goddamn times. I’m not Charlie Brown.
I am, however, Charlie Brown’s first cousin who is easily fooled over and over.
Full disclaimer: I have no cousins named Charlie Brown. But when I was a kid, there was this amusement park ride that I would ride with my dad that darted in and out and came close to other cars. You know the one, I just suck at descriptions. Anyway, when we would be at the point where it seemed we would crash into another car, we would yell “Watch out Charlie Brown”. Also, when Randy was a kid and played baseball, his mom would come to the games and yell “Hit a homer, Charlie Brown”. So it’s kind of like Randy and I are both related to Charlie Brown. Also, I am very tired. The holidays are exhausting, yo.
Don’t misunderstand me.
This is not me giving up.This is me, extending both arms as far as I can and extending my middle fingers.
This is me saying that I get to decide that I get to find joy. This is me accepting outrage is always around the corner and outrage can suck my dick. This is me deciding that I am goddamn thrilled to be alive. It is glorious to exist.
I think if that if we make that a yoga move, it should be called the “go fuck yourself” pose.
It’s been a while since I’ve been excited for Christmas. I guess having a failed game show host as president and a plague puts a damper on things.
I was excited this year though. We spent Christmas evening with my family. It may be that was our last gathering for a while. You know, omicron and all.
Anyway, it couldn’t have been more pleasant. We ate good food, played games and exchanged gifts.
My gorgeous daughter in law gave me this. I love her like frozen crazy.
You guys, I pulled something off this Christmas that I have never done before.
I surprised Randy.
We’ve shared 27 Christmases and this is the first time I surprised him.
I got him a gift and successfully kept it a complete secret. For months. I feel like I need an award for this or something.
I told you guys a few months ago that a Twitter friend gifted Randy with a guitar. There are two guitars that Randy has always wanted. He got the Telecaster a few months ago.
I got him a turquoise Epiphone Wildkat semi-hollow body.
I have no idea what any of those words mean, other that I understand turquoise as both a color and a rock and I also really want to pronounce “Epiphone” as “epiphany”. Also, I of course, get that it’s a guitar. It’s very pretty. I just don’t play any instruments or have any musical talent, so I had to guess.
I guessed right.
This secret fucking killed me. I can’t tell you how many times I just wanted to tell him what was under my mother’s bed.
I had it shipped to my mom’s house because he would have figured out what was in a guitar sized box under our tree.
On Christmas eve, when I was jumping out of my skin because I only had one more sleep to go, Randy was telling me about this site called “Reverb” where musicians sell equipment.
I was aware of that site. Because that is where I bought his guitar.
I’m not going to lie, that was kind of cruel on the part of the universe to put me through that.
I had to respond with a semi-interested “uh huh” rather than “OMFG I KNOW because I shop there”.
Also, we usually celebrate with my parents and sisters and assorted spawn and spouses on Christmas eve. That got changed to Christmas day. I had a day of waiting tacked on and I also had to get a decoy gift.
So, in addition to a guitar, Randy got a pair of cashmere gloves.
Here’s to hoping he doesn’t lose them.
Here’s to deciding that 2022 will be what we make it.
We don’t get to control much, but we can still be happy. We still get joy.
I’m not looking for bright shiny horizons or baby angels riding on unicorns. I’m just saying, let’s kick 2022 in the ass.