Yesterday I made the mistake of trying to walk down 42nd Street right as the calm was edging closer towards a confetti frenzied storm. Suffice to say, I did not make the same mistake twice tonight. I've mixed so many kir royales for myself since 9:00 that the cassis is oozing out my pores, so I won't run the risk of lapsing into my usual bout of word nazi-isms since I'm hitting the keyboard like a letter a minute as it is. Just like the blinking stars say, happy 2007 everyone!

Labels: celebration, holiday

I hardly ever do random picture posts, but I can't help but be suckered into taking the trusty Sony Cybershot out of storage to get click happy around this time of year. Take for example these gorgeous poinsettias from my office lobby. Hell, half the time I don't even stop to notice whether the poor squeegie cleaners are in my way as I barrel through Starbucks in one hand, handbag & two newspapers in the other. But sometimes it pays to stop and smell the holly & ivy.

Of course the Christmas tree in the middle of South Street Seaport is no Rockefeller Center, but considering the utter death wish Midtown is looking like, I'll take downtown Manhattan for $200, Alex. The roving photog will be adding more editions to this as the 12 days of Xmas tick down to the final days. Stay tuned...

Labels: Christmas, holiday, Lower Manhattan, New York City, photos

Who knows how to push your buttons as well as your relatives do? The airtight bubble of tranquility that comforted me since late November was sufficiently punctured this Christmas. If you haven't guessed already, I'm not big on family gatherings or being around them for longer than an hour at a time, so the news that we were still going to have a full house threw me in a tailspin of epic proportions. My great-aunt from Baltimore was supposed to come and spend the latter portion of this week up here, but with the MTA/TWU tug-of-war that was at the time, still brewing, she opted out of making the trip on Amtrak. Inwardly, my disappointment lasted for oh, about 2 minutes. But the rug was pulled out from under me when I was told cousins from my mom's side of the clan along with assorted family friends would be making their guest star appearance in a very special episode of Hell for the Holidays.

Initial promises that our dinner would be small and tasteful went in one ear and out the other as the proposed menu tripled in a span of minutes with the last minute additions. Making the situation an even bigger comedy of errors was the fact is my kitchen is the size of a shoe closet, so struggling to keep the oven door open as my mom and I shoveled endless baking pans of meats, casseroles and pies in and out and over to the table in rapid succession like a madwoman. See why I keep my culinary forays limited to recipes for one?

Complicating matters was the fact that not only were our lives scheduled around CP time, so was our cooking. And even though our guests were still 20 minutes late, our Iron Chef tandem was running a full 45 minutes behind. It was only after hearing the first car pull up to the house that I had to pull myself from the stove to sprint into the shower to freshen up and get out of a football tee and boxers to appear "presentable" as the designated singleton mascot.

A few body splash spritzes and an ensemble change later, we finally rearranged silverware and the centerpiece to make room from a full spread. Turkey, a smaller roasted chicken, pelau (which is translated as rice & peas for the Yankee crew), callaloo, macaroni pie, pastelles, cornbread stuffing, green bean casserole, scalloped potatoes, candied yams, glazed ham along with two jugs of ponche á creme (think egg nog with a stronger kick) on a dining table that was swollen and overstuffed.

In walked the assortment of tanties, uncles and people I just didn't know from a can of paint but apparently remembered me "from small." Why do old folks think that jabbing you in the belly a la the Pillsbury dough boy while sizing up the pounds you've put on since they've seen you last is an acceptable practice? And of course when I shoot the death glance instead of the uncomfortable giggle they were expecting, I'm called rude. Whatever.

Trying to smooth things over from my obvious distance from the ladies making chit chat about distant relatives back home whom I'd never met, much less were familiar with was Mommy Dearest, and I couldn't decide whether I was proud or embarrassed that she still felt the need to brag about my minor triumphs, however few and far between they were now outside the confines of a classroom. The maternal instinct never wavers, does it?

And just when I'd resigned myself to slapping on the rubber gloves and Dawn ready to bat cleanup at the sink after the dessert dishes came back empty with just crumbs of black cake left, the doorbell rang and at the door was my mother's "cousin's" nephew summoned over to drop them home and also as an ulterior motive I sniffed a mile away — fraternizing with moi. One look at his LED lit belt and Akademiks jeans slipping off his ass guaranteed that I wasn't interested in small talk.

Next year, I'm booking a reservation out of town.

Labels: celebration, Christmas, family, holiday, rants

While my turkey day was laid back and quiet, this one promises to be a pendulum swing in the other direction. Last minute racing around at 3 grocery stores late yesterday evening already ensured that I'll be reaching for the Molotov cocktail of Tums, Pepto Bismol and Stolichnaya frequently as the clock ticks away ever so slowly.

The season of bad Santas, credit card orgies and an over-commercialized assault on what used to be a reason to celebrate family (blood or chosen/acquired) and embracing the little things that make life worthwhile have now left me more than a bit jaded, but watching reruns It's A Wonderful Life & Miracle On 34th Street always find a way to thaw the hardened shell on the surface.

So regardless of whether you're a Jew, Gentile, Buddhist, Muslim or whether you've been naughty or nice, I'd like to wish all my regular contributors, lurkers and fellow writers in the blogosphere a merry Christmas, a happy Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Diwali and everything in between. Stay safe out there.

Labels: celebration, Christmas, holiday