Butternut Woolens

My dad called last night and we agreed we hate Christmas. We do this every year and it's such a relief. It's like a ritual cleansing and has become my favorite Christmas tradition.

"Hi Honey, how are you?"

"It's Christmas Dad, I hate it."

"By God, so do I. So. Do. I."

I wish it was over already so well-meaning eye doctors and dentists and cashiers would just stop asking me if I'm "ready for Christmas". Today I very much wanted to say to these people, "Damn! I forgot to get the gin, thanks for reminding me, gotta do that today before the likker store closes." But I just gritted my teeth and told a bald-faced lie each time, "Yep." Which maybe isn't so much of a lie, I'm ready for it like my old grandpa was ready for the bear that kept breaking into the barn--with a lawn chair, a thermos of coffee and a shotgun full of pellets.

The earnest doctor can't be a year out of high school and he has a poster of the ten commandments in the office window, so I guess he really likes Christmas. He asked me last month if I had all my Christmas shopping done and I looked him right in the eye and said, "Doc, I don't have a job, there's not gonna be any shopping." Which isn't entirely true, I bought the usual stuff. I was using hyperbole to make a point, so please don't feel sorry for me. I inherited Grandpa's shotgun and it's still loaded for bear. Just sayin.

I can't think of a stupider thing to say in this town than to ask people if they've spent a lot of money on dumb plastic stuff made on the other side of the globe. Ah, the transgressions of youth. I've done it, too, but Jesus, the unemployment rate has to be at least 20%, it was 17% before they laid off the last 90 workers at the aluminum plant a few weeks ago. There were 1200 workers at the plant when we came to Rural. I think a lot of people are using the current economic climate to scale back and even change how they do the holidays. It's been a long time coming in my opinion.

The children are at their dad's in another state, so I'm free to do whatever I want and I was planning to go skiing after burning the Christmas tree in the backyard while dancing around it in my long underwear with a bottle of gin in one hand and a skein of yarn draped around my neck, but my brother insisted I come to their house and for extra good measure my sis-in-law assigned me to bring a bit of food. I could have still gotten out of it, but she said the teenagers specifically asked for my dinner rolls and pies and I wavered, a tiny fissure opened in my airtight and firm "No thanks". Teenagers specifically want my food? Damn. Caught.

Oh. All. Right. But then it's right back to my regularly scheduled Christmas curmudgeonliness.