Close Your Eyes and Blow!

December 31st is hardly an appropriate day for starting something new, although my mental to-do list for tomorrow continues to grow. Today is a day for looking back and reflecting, certainly not for making headway on that book I keep meaning to write or for settling into that new healthy lifestyle.

It has been a slow year for my blog, which may or may not mean that the past year has been uneventful but most definitely means I did not have to scroll down very far to see what I was up to last year at this time. As it turns out, I was pretty much up to the same things at the end of last December that I am up to now: missing the kids who have already come and gone, enjoying the one who is still in town, worrying over a lethargic dog, experimenting with various odor and stain removers for carpet and upholstery. And, of course, looking ahead optimistically to a clean slate for the year to come. Plus ca change. 

An overabundance of senior moments makes it difficult for me to identify any particularly memorable moments from the last twelve months, but I am certain there had to be at least a few. I hate to think I spent 365 days doing nothing but wait for some annual comings and goings and mysterious canine ailments and stain removal and air freshening, but for the life of me I am struggling to come up with anything more interesting. I decided to flip on a morning news show, which I rarely do anymore because there never seems to be any news going on. As luck would have it, the year in pictures montage was about to begin.

Wow, what a year. "Polar vortex" actually sounds exciting when you don't have to hear about it and you cannot even recall where you left your shovel. ISIS, ebola, the Ukraine, the thaw with Cuba, football players abusing women, Bill Cosby abusing women, medal controversies at the Olympics, police shooting citizens, citizens shooting police, racial tensions, politicians barking across the aisle, airplanes dropping into the ocean -- it's difficult to believe the morning news shows had time for so many segments about hair and makeup. It's the "In Memoriam" piece that really knocks the wind out of me, though. So many people who seemed to live enviable lives are, suddenly, gone. If you had told me last year that there would be no more Robin Williams, no more Philip Seymour Hoffman, no more Joan Rivers, no more Lauren Bacall, no more Shirley Temple, no more Maya Angelou (who will balance out Beyonce at the next presidential inauguration?) I would not have believed you. If you had told me that countless other people I haven't really thought about for a long time but just assumed would live forever would be gone I would have been skeptical. If you had told me that Mickey Rooney had died this year I would have sworn that he had already died a long time ago. Maybe that was Mickey Mantle.

It gives one pause. I look forward each year to the final New York Times Magazine, filled with remembrances of not-so-famous people who did or said or endured extraordinary things. It is, in large part, a celebration of unsung heroes, and a reminder of how much of a mark mere mortals can leave in such a short period of time.

Today, as I look ahead, I reflect upon the unsung heroes and the unsung moments of my daily existence. Lots of things have happened between December of last year and now, even though I am still spending an inordinate amount of time worrying about my kids and cleaning up after my dog and planning to finish that book and start that healthy lifestyle.

I may not be able to articulate why, but my life this year has been pretty darn exciting. And if you don't believe me, just close your eyes and blow.

Seeing the Light

At a holiday party recently, I resisted taking a turn on Santa's lap for many reasons. For starters, I thought it a bit unseemly for a fifty-five year old woman to sit in the lap of an unsmiling grown man dressed up in a bright red suit, particularly since Mrs. Claus was standing right there next to him and she did not appear to be in a particularly good mood. Factor in the long line, the tantalizingly close do-it-yourself bloody Mary bar, and the little girl who had boldly announced her intention to taint a perfectly lovely chocolate fountain with her next helping of chicken nuggets and the jolly lap pretty much lost its allure.

Bah humbug. I totally get why Mrs. Claus was looking a bit sour. If I have to drag myself out for one more minute of forced merriment I could be forced to emerge from my funk and, well, I just don't feel like it. A well meaning acquaintance who also happens to be a highly trained professional in matters of the mood made the mistake of asking me the other day how I was doing. He didn't seem horrified when I unloaded my sorry tale of woe about nothing in particular, and he didn't even suggest I pop in for an official hour on the couch. He simply suggested I go on line and order myself a special light. It would cost a few hundred dollars, but if I stared at it for forty-five minutes every morning the results would be obvious and amazing within two weeks. In fact he asked that I call him with a report after he returns from his sunny beach vacation. I wondered why he would bother with a beach vacation when he could just get his own light and stay home and watch endless reruns of Criminal Minds and Blue Bloods but he's the expert so I just let it pass.

Seasonal Affective Disorder. S.A.D. It's all about the lack of sunlight and vitamin D3, and it's too cold to go out even if I were inclined to so the indoor miracle light seemed like a reasonable idea. I even paid for an expedited delivery so I can reap the full benefits during the months when the sun don't shine pretty much at all. Sugar plum fairies danced in my head; I thought about calling some friends; I even imagined walking the dog for more than a block. Goodbye S.A.D.

The package arrived as quickly as promised, and I could hardly wait to open it and let the happiness begin. Well, hardly, but I am more patient than I thought because I was perfectly content to wait and finish watching one of my favorite episodes of Criminal Minds as it built to a climax. So I tucked the box under my desk and made a mental note to open it as soon as I began to feel sad. Or S.A.D. Which did not happen until hours later, when I thought the light might interfere with some good sleep.

It has been a couple of days now, and I have caught up on several more episodes of Criminal Minds and Blue Bloods and have even had more than a few wild mood swings but I have still not gotten around to opening the box. I have come close, but every time I think about slicing through the tape I feel S.A.D. (and more than a little bit S.T.U.P.I.D.). I think about what it might feel like to sit in front of a big blank screen of imaginary sunlight for forty-five minutes every day and I know in my heart I would much rather be sitting in front of the television watching a screen filled with imaginary serial killers and other bad guys working their own special brand of magic. I also know in my heart that I wouldn't last more than five minutes before running to the pantry for some chocolate, which is on the list of things that exacerbate S.A.D., and that would just be counterproductive. I suppose if I switched over from my stash of Reese's to a bowl full of leafy greens the light might make better economic sense, but I'm a realist, and the thought of replacing hours of crime shows and lethal carbs with overpriced fake sunlight and tasteless leafy greens just makes me sadder and sadder.

Yes, it's sad and a little bit wasteful that I am now about to pay another shipping fee to return the unopened promise of happiness, but ultimately the refund of over two hundred dollars will ease the pain. And in a few months, Santa and the bitter Mrs. Claus will be back home on the North Pole and holiday parties and sunny beach vacations and chicken nugget infused chocolate fountains will be a distant memory, and maybe everybody will stop being so S.A.D. At the very least we'll tire of it and find countless other reasons to be in a bad mood.

As for me, I am planning to use my fake sunlight refund to make sure my cable bill is always paid on time and to purchase enough chocolate to keep me from coming down from my very real sugar high before the next vernal equinox.