Friday, December 23, 2005

Merry Christmas!!

I had a little Christmas parable happen yesterday. It turns out someone dropped off a whole bunch of gifts for our whole family—spouses, kids, my mother, everyone, except ME. Seriously. And at first I just sort of blew it off, like, ha ha ha! Gifts do not define Christmas, silly old rabbit! We learned this yet again from watching The Grinch Who Stole Christmas the other night, wherein the true meaning of Christmas is divulged by the saintly and Biblical Boris Karloff.

Then a nasty little thud landed upon my heart and I felt: hurt. It hurt my feelings. MY FEELINGS WERE HURT! Sing muse! So I composed a series of very mean, naughty, vile and libelous notes in my head, then I thought about religion and going to church and how I had to become a better person and then slights like these wouldn’t matter so much. This is how my mind works—evil poison pen...then church…then redemption…then back to poison pen. The old get-it-out-of-my-system plea.

I got home and got the phone call. It was a mistake! There was a gift for me after all!

I think what this teaches us is, never actually send the nasty, vicious, cathartic, vilifying note UNTIL you have checked the bottom of the bag of gifts. Isn’t that a beautiful lesson? Hold it dear to your heart from now on.

Then I started thinking about Capricorns and how much I hate them—just women Capricorns, like SledDog and others. I had an interview when I was going through THAT whole drama, and I had this instant reaction to the woman who was conducting the interview that Eve (hi Eve!) calls “instant hate.” You know that reaction? Not to be confused with “instant like,” which happens more frequently (I just said that so I wouldn’t seem too negative all the time, what with it being Christmas and all).

Anyway, I walked in to the interview and the high priestess came in, all fresh Ivory scrubbed sensible frumpiness with no makeup and naturally graying hair and a plain white knit shirt and a necklace with no soul. Just a stupid adornment, an accoutrement, a meaningless bit of “flair” with no heart, no color, no imagination. GOD I HATED THAT NECKLACE. And she looked at me and I could see it. I could see that sensible little prudent mind shunning all my impracticalities and my whims and irrationality. My black tar mascara, the zany glasses, the impertinent blond streaks in my hair that are grown out and mixed with other hair colors (brown, gray, a mélange!) and I just knew I wasn’t getting that job.

SHE is the one who asked me what my best friend would say about me if they called her. AND I GOT CHOKED UP, for crying out loud, because I don’t like mixing metaphors. I have a work life and I have a home life and never the twain shall meet. And I got all confused thinking about what my best friend would say, and then I thought about what she probably would say, and I got all TEARY and goofy. It was a super weird interview moment. And here was her reaction: she got impatient. And boy HOWDY that’s when I knew things were really going south. Because that type of person, the type who just looks at you patronizingly as you leak and sputter with inefficient emotions, is not someone I am going to get along with too well. So I was mad at myself, because I REALLY wanted a new job.

As it turns out, my then company threw this gargantuan, extremely fabulous, anniversary party AT the Mandarin Oriental hotel in downtown DC (it was spectacular, seriously) and I was seated next to this beautiful woman and we started chatting and for some reason I asked her if she was a writer and she said yes and we talked some more and it turns out that I had interviewed for HER job! The sensible Capricorn frump was her boss! And she leaned over to me, in strict confidentiality, and said, “I have never had such a horrible time working with anyone, ever.” She said she got along with everyone, but for some reason they just did not hit it off. And so I asked her, “Is she a Capricorn by any chance?”

She looked at me with her eyes wide open and she said, “Yes! Why?”

I said, “Oh, I could just tell. She reminds me of several people.”

She said, “She reminds me of my stepmother!”

Then I asked, “What sign are you?”

And she said, “Cancer.”

I said, “Me too!”

You see? It never would have worked.

She asked, “But are all Capricorns bad? Because my boyfriend is a Capricorn.”

And I replied, “No! Capricorn men are fine. It’s just the women. After all, Jesus was a Capricorn!”

So I think we have learned some really valuable lessons today about revenge and spite and the true meaning of Christmas, to wit—search the bag 'til you find what you want, avoid Capricorn women if you are a Cancer, and celebrate the most famous Capricorn man in the world’s birth with love.

Merry Christmas, y’all.


Cynicism is another word for reality

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