Another Christmas in the books. When Kate was younger, I used to think of the Three Hurdles of Autumn — Halloween, birthdays and the holidays. By this point, with Christmas behind us and only the new year and tree-dismantling ahead, I’d feel like a racehorse halfway down the stretch.
It’s not as grueling anymore, so I’m enjoying these last few days. It helps that I don’t have to work, that the past year was a good one, that 2015 brought only the normal wear and tear to me and mine. Still, I have this pipe dream of organizing the house before 1/1/16. We’ll see if I can at least get a couple of rooms done.
Meanwhile, I hope you all got the presents you wanted, and a few you didn’t know you wanted. We all did just fine here.
With the 30 Days of Abstention ahead, I’m wondering if I should go whole-hog and try a Whole 30 in January, too. A friend of mine posted about it on Facebook, saying it got his pre diabetic blood-sugar numbers down in a shockingly short period of time, but I dunno — a whole month without bread, pasta, rice, sugar, dairy AND alcohol? Talk about a shock to the system. On the other hand, if I’m already going to be booze-free… What’s the harm of trying?
Never mind the self-improvement for now. How about the weekend’s pleasures?
Alan got stuck working Christmas Day, so Kate and I took ourselves to “The Big Short,” which I can’t recommend highly enough. Hide all the weaponry in the house, however, lest you be tempted to go out and knife random investment bankers afterward. It’s very entertaining and does a tremendous job explaining some frankly impenetrable financial instruments, although there were moments when I was at sea. It didn’t matter — the narrative carries you through the rough parts, and the fourth-wall breaking is a stroke of genius. Go. You won’t regret it.
Then we came home and watched “Inside Out” on iTunes, and that was equally fine, although in an entirely different kind of way.
This is pretty much all I want to do on this break — lie on the couch, let entertainment wash over me and clean closets.
A little bloggage to start the week, whether you’re working or not:
The worst and stupidest health claims of the year, kicking off with none other than Gwinnie Paltrow:
Gwyneth Paltrow told women to steam clean their vaginas. Don’t do this.
OK, I won’t!
For you Michiganians, a particularly harsh take on the legislature’s year.
And in the Freep, a lovely farewell from one columnist to another, who happens to be his wife. (And isn’t leaving anything other than her job.)
More laziness in the week ahead. Enjoy yours, eh?