Do I sound Christmas-bitter? I am, a little. It’s my classic holiday m.o.: get bitter and resentful in the lead-up, and wake up the day of as if I never felt cross or swore emphatically about all the damn errands and preparations. You can imagine how much fun this is for my husband.
But… I’m also having a really good time (antibiotics and all). I was in my son’s second grade class for a couple of hours the other day, helping 22 seven and eight-year-olds build gingerbread houses. It was fantastic. Exhausting, but really fun. My boy’s teacher put on music from their winter concert (which was, as children’s concerts always are, both sweet and unintentionally hilarious), and all of a sudden, 22 kids were spontaneously, sweetly, singing along as they worked. And, of course, getting frosting everywhere.2nd graders are not minimalists. It’s hysterical how baroque-o-rama they all are, packing on as much decoration as is humanly possible. It’s as if inside, they’re all crazed Neopolitan church decorators of the 18th century- if that lovely austere lily can be gilded, encrusted and enameled, then, dammit, it will be. The top picture is my boy’s gingerbread house. It was more austere than some of the other creations. Seriously. The other image is of the Capella S. Severo in Naples, and I omitted the creepy shrouded Christ in there, which a triumph of sculptural mastery, easily rivaling the way Bernini showed Pluto’s finger’s digging into poor Persephone’s thigh, but… well, creepy. And that’s compared to something titled “The Rape of Persephone.”
Anyway, it’s what holiday food looks like. It’s not… food. It’s butter and sugar and lard and quite often, stuff you just don't want to eat.
Also: Christmas sweaters continue to get on my nerves. Although, as it’s been fairly well documented, my nerves are easily jangled.