Solonor's Inkwell

…I was an 18-year-old attendee of the University of Maine, sharing a dorm room with some jock I had no interest in talking to about much of anything (a feeling that was reciprocated in kind). I had only just set foot into the grown-up world, flung mercilessly from the heights of high school senior-ism to the depths of college freshman-ism. I was enrolled to study civil engineering, but I really had no interest in that, either. I thought I wanted to be an architect and go to the Rhode Island School of Design. But, somehow, I wound up at UMO, where there were more people in my freshman English class than were enrolled in my entire high school.

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Why is it that when I come to the end of a vacation all I have is a pile of regrets? “I shoulda done this. I shoulda done that.” Why can’t I just be happy that I sat on my rotund posterior and played City of Heroes all week?

Actually, I’m not too much into the “crap, vacation’s over” mood. It’s Christmastime, fer Flying Spaghetti Monster’s sake! We gots parties and singing and shopping to do!

Last night, we went to our church Christmas party and sang carols and listened to the handbell choir (which both of my uber-talented kids are in). It was tons of fun, especially watching the little kids sing their hearts out on Rudolph and his reindeer games (“like Monopoly!”) and getting prezzies from Santa Claus (or a reasonable facsimile thereof).

I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday season. Don’t stress out over everything you feel like you have to do (half of which you really don’t). And remember to take the time to stop and listen to little kids singing. OK?

My God. It’s only the 2nd day of my after-Thanksgiving vacation (the 1st with nobody else at home), and I have already resorted to eating lunch in my jammies while watching Jerry Springer.

What a piece of work is man.

There. I have done my patriotic duty. Because nothing says, “Hi! I’m a rich, overindulgent, ‘mericun” like eating 10 tons of food and collapsing onto the couch into a snoring ball of fat. Thanksgiving rawks!

In the morning, I got my kids back for the first time in a while, as we made fun of watched the Macy’s parade together (all three hours of it). There was kind of a “parade blackout” there for the last 5 years or so, as it is apparently not the coolest thing for teens to watch (who knew?). But this year, they were back with me for the holiday traditions (all three of us even gave up the PC’s for about 90% of the day!).

It was really a great day, as we listened to the godawful puns roll from the teleprompter via the lips of Katie Couric and Matt Lauer (I think Al Roker makes up his own bad jokes). Then, for some reason, we watched Bring It On until the food was ready. We stuffed our faces to the great sounds of Garrison Keilor’s A Prairie Home Thanksgiving, and retired to afternoon snoozing. Later, we gathered ’round the altar for A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.

Thanks be given.

My little angel turns sweet 16 today. That’s hard to believe, isn’t it? Meaning the angel part, of course…