Embracing the Ho Ho Hum

Well if that wasn't the sleepiest weekend in recent history ...

I can't recall any tsetse flies, and I'm reasonably certain there was no skipping thorugh the poppies-will-make-them-sleep meadow.

I guess I'l blame the the Toronto (Hamilton, actually) boys for wearing me out. They have certainly found their way onto the shortlist for most fun houseguests ever. It's not like we did anything.

• the White Swan's amateur strip on Wednesday night
• Thursday's most delightful wine-fueled (and Cowboy Cocksucker fortified) holiday soirette at Simon and Nick's
• Friday dinner at Gaucho and then a pub crawl till 1am (early night because they had a flight on Saturday morning)

How embarrassing. Shattered after only 3 nights in a row? I'm so not a professional anymore.

In between weekend naps and feedings, we managed to book a Christmas getaway. We're making our debut appearance in Cornwall for a few days. It looks like a proper quiet holiday, don't it?

I've decided that lounging about and waiting for my holiday mojo to magically appear and douse me in Christmas cheer might be a lot like waiting for the muse to come before you write. It's probably not going to happen.

So, just as I make it easy for my Muse (Geraldine is her nom du jour) to find me by wrting my daily wordcount, I shall endeavor to make myself open to Monsieur Mojo by setting out on the following this week:

• get decorations down from Anne Frank room and strew them merrily about the flat
• whip up a batch of makeshift Nuts & Bolts (I actually bought most of the ingredients on Saturday, but ended up eating all the mixed nuts and garlic bagel chips in between naps — hate when that happens)
• watch The Ref, preferably while eating Nuts & Bolts
• write and send Christmas cards (which I haven't done for eons) — if you'd like to recieve a heartfelt card from the bobzyeruncle home office, please make sure I have your address. you can email it to me, or leave it in the comments for all the world to send you a card
• dig up Christmas Wrapping and a collection of holiday CDs I have, especially Sarah McLachlan's new suicide-inducingly depressive ever-so-soothing CD, Wintersong
• take my Lexapro with eggnog
• find a copy of Barrel Fever (where is mine??) and reread The Santaland Diaries

Can't you just feel the mojo rising?

And ... but wait, there's more! ... on top of all that, it's time to dust off the New Balance trainers and get serious about running again. Applications are in and if all goes according to plan, I'll have a charity entry for the 2007 London Flora Marathon. That means, come the new year, I'll be hitting you all up to raise money for Terence Higgins Trust. So make sure to sock away some of that Christmas cash and year-end bonus money. Because, remember, it's all about giving.

That was exhausting, all that typing. I need a nap.