Times of Giving

Short post today, folks. Lots to do. LOTS TO DO. MUST GET DOING DONE. MUST ARRANGE LOTS INTO LOTS.

Christmas (or the choose-your-own-holiday period) generally stresses me out in a very unique way. I mean, Anxiety and I know each other pretty well (there was even this night in Paris, but Anxiety and I agreed never to speak of it again), yet this particular time of year really cranks it up a few notches for me. Socially speaking, I am not High Functioning Jeff(tm). I have about the conversational skills of a Tickle-Me Elmo. But, correspondingly, my wherewithal for and interest in doing crafts is enhanced exponentially.

I can not help but wonder if the two might be related.

Anyway, Christmas comes early this year (OH MY GOD OH MY GOD) for me and mine. Jenny has to work at the hospital on the 25th, so my parents are coming into town in a matter of hours to celebrate here, now. That's the kind of parents they are. They rule. Plus, they already set a precedent for coming to see my shows in the most remote ends of the earth, so not working around Jenny's work schedule for the holidays would have sunk them in deep, deep tinsel.

I'll be traveling again, after the wrapping paper has flown and the Moliere has been seen. First down to Hagerstown, MD with my parents, then off to northern Virginia (NoVa) to see friends. There's a fairly big reunion of people I knew (and actually liked) in high school planned, and I surprise myself by my desire to attend. It's not that I am surprised to want to see old friends, exactly. It's just that reunions are another thing that fill me with anxiety.

What is this thing that makes me so wary of good possibilities? I put it to the universe. Universe, call me sometime. We never talk anymore.

I've got to run. Much wrapping and riddle-writing and packing to do yet. Avanti!