A Few of My Favourite 2020 Things - sans Julie Andrews
December 17, 2020
This has not been the typical December. Many of us have skidded, careened, slid, scratched and clung our way to get to December this year. That it has been “quite the year”– is an understatement of epic reality. It’s not difficult to wistfully look back at 2019 with nostalgia, or to 2021 with utter desperate hope. I am holding onto my sanity by a thread and my XXXL stretchy pants as I march into the new year. The lockdown has been hard. Ain’t gonna lie. There has been some tears. There has been some fist shaking to the sky. Nothing is as it seems- and I fear of a dystopian future if we don’t get out of lockdown. I barely have a sense of humor left. I akin this moment of my life to the dude in the desert who is hallucinating when he sees the water and he is crawling…. hands outstretched, inch by inch, sand in his face and eyes……or maybe Oliver who is begging with his hat in his hand: ” please sir…..”
Typically, December is the month I happily slide through with glee. It is typically a month of parties and boozy suppers for me. I usually start the month with house decorations, homemade baileys, sugar cookies– and the iconic “All I Need for Christmas is You” ringing through the house. I put up two trees, and dreamily sit by the fireplace upstairs with a stack of books just waiting for the holiday. Plenty of invitations fill the calendar, and the rush of finishing massages and chiro abounds before the year ends. Traditionally, I watch the older version of The Grinch somewhere in the week of my birthday. I count the days till Christmas vacation starts. I am blissfully content with a “job well done” pat on my back.
Typically, the school is buzzing with daily student union activities, stockings hung with care, treats in every department you visit. The happy chat of holiday destinations is in the air, teachers and kids alike are waiting for the final Friday bell that marks two weeks of utter rest. We are usually just as giddy as the kids as we walk the halls. The last day is typically a pancake breakfast for our school. Santa makes an appearance, the choir is singing, pancakes sizzle in abundance on the grill. The cafeteria stinks of greasy oil, but no one cares. It’s Christmas after all.
This year with nary a fireplace or tree to decorate, no rye for baileys, and The Grinch packed away in Texas, I thought, what shan’t I ever forget about the year I almost lost my mind. …..
Packing boxes. Who knew that the versatility of packing boxes could last a year. Currently I have four packing boxes stacked for my makeshift “classroom.” I also have a box for bathroom stuff, and a box for socks and undergarments. I have no dresser here in Stony Plain, or a desk. Or really much furniture to speak of. So daily I am seemingly rummaging through boxes looking for something. Or I think of a good hobby to do, or something to bake- and with a tisk I realize, nope that [pot, pan, juicer, Big Henry] is in Texas. Suffice to say, when my life finally moves on, I will be thrilled to donate all those 77 packing boxes and exchange them for a good ol drawer.
A bathtub for grown ups. And maybe a drain stopper that fits. Funny thing about trailer living. Everything is downsized for small people. Who knew. Seems ironic the year of a pandemic. With extra girth.
Mouse traps. Mouse poison. Mouse predator buzzer. Steel wool. Need I say more.
Speeding tickets. It appears that not only the highway can be adorned with photo radar, but Spruce Grove has an additional program of cameras atop just about every street light. I am learning each week just how many street lights there are.
Online learning. Can’t say enough. I have traded in many of my friends for Google extensions. One year ago Google Meet was not even in my vocabulary. Or Google Forms. Or Google Draw. Do I even need real people anymore?
Stretchy pants. One does not need to elaborate on the new uniform of 2020. I live in hope that the acquired quarantine gain of 408 lbs will be a thing of the past for December 2021. I have literally worn out most pairs. In particular one pair has gone in the trash. I know this because while walking at the dog park it seemed rather cold on my bum ….. Ah yes, the gods of thread worn pants laughed that day. Me, not so much.
Taking my spin bike to Texas. This seemed like a good idea in June. Please refer to #6 for further explanatory disappointment.
Being of legal age to buy as much alcohol as I want. Now normally, #7 takes care of #8. For fun a few of us buy a box of wine for the month of September because our last pay cheque is the end of June. That was funny up until this year. The box lasted about 2 weeks in not 4, and I was forced to take a long hard look at myself in the mirror mid September. I did. I started buying gin.
Sourdough starter. What can go wrong. While this has brought me great joy these past few months, and given me something of a project to perfect, it has not helped my stretchy pants. I lament that I could not have found a hobby that consisted of lettuce and garnishes.
And finally, the idea of the BnB. I have had quite an education in permits, septics, easements, engineering, inspectors, plumbers, AC, windows sizes, pipes and electricity wires. My boring old bachelor degree in English and drama clearly didn’t prepare me for the real world [insert eye roll here]. However, I have gained a plethora of new friends from the crusty engineer, the Fort Worth city officials, to the amicable plumber Henry, [who I am fairly certain has moved himself and his five kids into my house because he has still not finished]. It still seems like a good idea but…. oof. Renovation is not for cowards. It’s definitely not the sprint I had hoped for. It’s more like the wait of the slow crawl of the sloth around the perimeter of the football field…..
Ah 2020, you nefarious god of irony.
