A Very Lovely Special Christmas Day At Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

The Husband & I survived Christmas Day the only way we could & not fall to pieces. The Husband put the presents for Michael out of sight. I settled in to a day of heavy TV viewing that would be distracting & possibly make us laugh a bit. I made room on the DVR storage by watching a marathon of the Sundance Channel's Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys, Beverly Hills Houswives, Chelsea Lately, & Top Chef Masters. I self-medicated. I called the parents & thanked them for all the warm & warm hearted holidays & the thoughtful, tender, tasteful gifts of books, albums, bicycles (5,8,11), trip to Europe (15), 1955 Jeep Willis Stationwagon (16), 1959 T-Bird, black on black (18), & the Etch-A-Sketch (54).

The Husband & I did our best to not slip deeper into deeper melancholia. I got a bit messed up. The Husband napped. Warm & wedded to each other; our 31st Christmas & worse for the wear.

Whenever life hands you a lemon, make it into lemon flavored vodka, I always say, huh?
You know, there’s a certain point in life where you either move forward & try to participate in a way that is interesting & hopefully useful, or else disappear. I chose the former, & that is just how I am. There are huge chasms along the way. I suffer from serious suffocating depression, but that doesn't accomplish anything. I try to change anything & have a bit of fun. How I react to setbacks is the fundamental choice I have to make each day. I wake up in the morning and say, “Oh well, a new day, let’s get it going, what’s ahead?” & just go do it one more time.