These Holidays Won’t Be Wonderful

So. The Christmas. I am trying to love the Christmas this year. I really am. Apparently my family didn't get the fucking memo that Christmas is going to be awesome this year, though.

Three weeks ago we started talking about when we were all available to get together for our Christmas festivities. Two weeks ago we decided on a 1pm Christmas brunch (my mom insists on calling it brunch to make it sound more fancy, even though 1pm is totally lunch.) Last week Bow (my younger sister who consistently makes my head melt) mentioned that the Christmas dinner she's going to is "kind of an all day thing." What the fuck? First of all, we all worked our schedules (and the schedules of our significant others, and the schedules of the parents of our significant others) around Bow's fucking Christmas dinner with her husband's family. Secondly, when you specify that you have a Christmas dinner to go to but don't specify that it's an "all day thing," people will assume that you are available during the day. Especially when you don't fucking say anything when everyone else in the family decides on a 1pm brunch.

So now my mom (who is kind of sick right now and won't be feeling better until after her surgery ... in March) is having three family celebrations. Appetizers on Christmas Eve, brunch on Christmas Day, and dinner on Boxing Day. Three separate celebrations because my family of six people can't get it together enough to spend one fucking day with each other. Though really it's just the one person who can't get it together. This is why I hate the holidays. I can quite happily ignore the pathetic relationship I have with my younger sister during the rest of the year. At Christmas, though, I feel like a failure for not liking her. I'm just so sick of her being a selfish brat and my parents excusing her behaviour. Christmas is going to be extra fun this year is what I'm saying.

And I Feel Anxious Sleeping Inches From Me

I spent the entire trip to my doctor's office feeling more and more surly, composing withering monologues in my head. I arrived for my appointment five minutes early and then sat in the exam room for twenty minutes, my resolve fading every time I heard footsteps outside the closed door. By the time my doctor entered the room any desire to confront her had been suppressed by my extreme anxiety at seeing her again. I spent the first five minutes of the appointment reminding myself to breathe.

Everything turned out to be fine. My doctor didn't mention what happened the last time I saw her so neither did I. It was rather anticlimactic, actually. I was so affected by her words and spent so much time and energy worrying about my situation with disliking my doctor so strongly and not being able to find a new doctor, and in the end it was completely unnecessary. I am so neurotic sometimes, it's ridiculous.

Who's Getting Scared Now

I'm going to see my doctor today. The same doctor who I swore I would never see again.

My search for a new doctor has been completely unsuccessful. After whittling away at my list of deal breakers, I was left with just one: I will not travel for more than half an hour to see my doctor. I cannot find a doctor within half an hour's travel time from either my home or my office, so I'm left with my doctor who made me cry.

I'm trying to be positive. I haven't seen her in over a year. Maybe she won't remember our last appointment.

I'm putting this on the internet for accountability. I've spent the morning trying to come up with valid reasons why I should not go to this appointment. I need the internet to kick my ass if I don't go.

We Have One Chance One Chance To Get Everything Right

I'm feeling a bit random today.

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Robin gave Burt another chance and ... it went well. So well that they've got another date planned for this weekend. I reckon that Robin should start her own blog so she can keep us updated on the story (hint hint, Robin.)

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I am excited for the Christmas card swap! I ordered some kickass Christmas cards in my attempt to love Christmas this year. They feature my puppies because, well, what else would I buy when it comes to Christmas cards? Peeps who left a comment saying they want to participate in the swap should email me their address at ninjahills at gmail dot com. I'll mix up the addresses and get them out the first week of December.

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I love So You Think You Can Dance (though Mary Murphy's voice and the shrieking and the "woooooo"ing make my head melt.) Ryan and Ellenore's routine this week made me extra happy because they danced to a song by one of my favourite bands, Stars.

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After months of having an assortment of red, orange, green, brown, and taupe paint chips taped to our bedroom walls, I have finally decided that I want to paint the bedroom blue and grey. Maybe.

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Wolfgang is a fan of the facebook.

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What bits of randomness are floating around your brain?

Help

(shamelessly stolen from Cat)

Don't Give Up The Fight I Saw You Dance Tonight

My adorable puppies, having a cuddle:

The cuddle lasted for approximately 2.3 seconds before this happened:

And then Wolfgang was all "you want on my couch? I don't think so!"

My life is never quiet.

Just Beat It Beat It Beat It Beat It No One Wants To Be Defeated - Take 11

Random Tuesday Tidbits

Robin loved all of your comments. Miel et Cannelle brought up the point that we don't know Burt's financial situation, which is true and totally valid. It's possible that I'm being an insensitive douche (it's been known to happen.) The thing is, he chose the restaurant for their first date. He took her to a trendy oyster bar in one of the fancier downtown neighbourhoods. He set the tone. Anyway, Robin hasn't fully decided what to do about Burt yet but I will keep you posted.

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My family got together on Sunday to celebrate my mom's birthday. We were all in charge of bringing something to contribute to dinner. They should have been suspicious when I offered to bring the salad course.


Why yes, those are my November beets atop the salads. Suckers!

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We have had nothing but rain for days. I try to walk the pups but it only takes a few minutes of precipitation before Wolfgang decides he has had enough and starts to cry. He is such a delicate flower. He'd much rather curl up in bed and hibernate until it's sunny and warm again. I don't blame him.