Humbuggery

Life happens.  Ready or not hear it comes.  This past year has been a doozy in the realm(s) of family dynamics, emotional stressors, and  physical and mental weaknesses. I’m not better than a year ago, or still the same. I’ve declined a bit.  And then, a few days before a great family weekend, I get sick.  Laryngitis presented as the first symptom, followed by days of chills and fever, disorientation and the blahs.

I hate the blahs. There they are, in my face. For ‘blahs’ they certainly are mobile.  No matter which way I turn my head, there they are, blocking my view of the good stuff, the fun stuff, the merry-go-round full of people laughing and having a great time together.  Humbug. I hate merry-go-rounds.

The great family weekend was a great family weekend. Twenty-two adults and children in a great house in a great area. I loved the noise of them playing and cooking together. I loved the quick wits. I loved when I got to go into a cool bedroom and sleep while twenty-one people went into town. I loved when they came back and watched a movie while I went back into that bedroom with two sleeping young ones. When  I was back at home I hit the bed and slept most of the next thirty-six hours.

Getting rested up has brought more of the events and activities back into my poor stuffy head, and will probably be a complete picture after Christmas, which I may have slept through… HUMBUG!

Enjoy the holidays. Take pictures. Good-night.

 

 

PCDD

It was the day after Christmas and all through my house

Not a creature was stirring, not a cat, not a mouse

The dog was all settled with me in my bed

And visions of family danced in my head.

The house had been full, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day,

Adults sharing gifts, children at play.

Then came the next day, all quiet and calm

Which to my twitchy soul should have been a great balm.

Instead a great weight fell, rimmed with a dark border

I call the Post Christmas Depressive Disorder.

I’m better today, though, I’m pleased to say.

Two beautiful children are coming to stay.

TV and popcorn and a kiss and a hug

We snuggle together like bugs in rug.

And then tomorrow all through this bright house

Adults and children, maybe even a mouse.

After they leave there returns the dark border

I call the Post Children Depressive Disorder.

Denise A. Carr