As I type listening to my twin boys racing their newly acquired remote control flippy-car things…a noise bordering on “run-headfirst-into-the-wall” or “something’s-going-through-the-window-soon!”…I reflect on the holiday season that was…
First, I note that there are two lessons I’ve learned in my life. One, you get what you pay for. Two, if you’re chronically afflicted, you’re going to fricken pay for it, no matter what, when or where.
‘Twas the season that was, because I damn well made the season.
This year, as previously posted, I made EVERYYYYYYYYYthing…I made teachers’ gifts. I made grandparents’ gifts. I made the cards. I made gift card holders. I made the damn TAGS (I stamped out 96 of the sum-bitches…huzzah!)
And, to continue the merriment…I made the chocolate macaroons…I made the shortbread cookies (well, the icing sugar ones…the melty-in-mouth yumminess ones)…I made fudge like my Grandmother used to make…and I made the #$#%$ Turtle-candy wanna-be’s called, “Pecan Clusters.”
$32 mo-fo bucks laid out on pecans.
PECANS. What. THE. #$%$?!?!!?
Life lessons. Learned. This morning, at the cumulative hour of 2:50 a.m…until that time as just before you need to get up and fall into a gloriously needed REM sleep. 4 a.m….at which point Shane had to get up, go downstairs and gather pain medication, water and a heating pad. Back upstairs to a bawling mess of a human being crumpled into herself.
So, ya. I kinda, sorta, maybe, perhaps pushed it.
I kinda, sorta, maybe, perhaps need to figure out how to find a bloody balance before I damn well keel over from pushing my heart-already-punished-by-swollen-lining-pericarditis at Mock 9 for weeks.
$32 didn’t bloody well help, either, I tell you that much.
Neither did hearing how, “Oh! Those things are easy to make…just go to the Bulk Barn, get caramels, stick a pecan on top and drizzle with melted chocolate.” (o.O)
A recipe with a candy thermometer (that didn’t fricken work)…a wooden spoon (read: to beat the shit out of the candy)…melt-y, burn-y, sugar-y diabetic-coma-inducing GLORYYYYYYYYYYYYY of a candy…with a pound and a half of pecans. Bulk Barn, right? RIGHT!?!?!
$32. Sweet mother of all things holy I think I would’ve loved to have seen my own face at that dandy of a register receipt.
I wonder if I blinked.
The candy was divine…esteem heightened ten-fold from having pulled off a more-than-stellar Yule dinner for my father and stepmum…a travel to Shane’s parents house for the weekend (a total anxiety pill-popping holy-crap-on-a-cracker experience because I was out of my “sanctuary”…my home)…a total success.
So why, then, does my body collapse at the most inopportune moments?
Because I’m chronically afflicted.
So, ya. I kinda, sorta, maybe, perhaps need to keep this in mind for next holiday season.
Truly. I MUST MUST MUST acquiesce to the knowledge that I simply cannot function at Mock 9. My quest, then…is to better plan in advance crucial holiday season activities. Bake earlier. Stamp often. That kind of thing. Small things to you, perhaps…but a major step in maintaining manageable pain levels and limb and joint function….managing chest pains and stress blisters…managing tears and meltdowns…
And still be around to enjoy beating the snot out of melt-y sugar-y goodness that contains $32 worth of fricken pecans.
Because pecans are just badass like that. 😉