Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Pajama Party.

Now that my gig at the book publishing office is over, I'm finding it exceedingly difficult to take off my pajamas and put on, well, real clothes.

I admit that i may be saying this prematurely. After all, it's still technically the holiday season, and a lot o' folks are not working this week. But it's not like I don't have work--I'm swamped with writing and editing that needs to get done. I'm just doing it from the comfort of my own sofa. Thus, I'm spending most of the week wearing cloth pants and sporting no particular hairdo.

I did get dressed for a time today, to drive my roomies and myself to lunch. But when we returned from the outing, I put my pj's right back on!

"Geez Denise, I see you have your pajamas back on," noted my roommate Dana, who's the type to never leave her bedroom without a shower.

"Yes indeed," I replied. "I'm feeling lazy."

And it's true. I'm lazy. The holidays wore me out, and damn it, I deserve a couple of days to recoup. I'm just worried that I'm getting a little spoiled. I even went to the neighbor's house tonight without changing. I did put on a bra, but that's about all. My neighbor said he wasn't offended by my lack of street clothes.

What about the rest of you? Do you get dressed to work from home? Or is life one big pajama party?

Christmas in Florence.

Christmas Eve with my friend Gayden and her beau.

Enjoying grandma's tree with my cousins, Isabella and Gabrielle.

My grandma's tree, decked out with gifts. 

Fabulously delicious cupcakes from Sweet, the new bakery in Flo-Town!
Christmas in Florence was spectacular as usual. I spent a whole week there without killing myself or any other family members. I also saw a multitude of golden friends and got a slew of fabulous gifts, including a new camera from my sweetie, fluffy bath towels, luxe bath products and good ole cash. I'm basking in the afterglow of all the festivities this week...a post-holiday high, if you will.

Monday, December 12, 2011

That Freelance Freedom.

This week is the my last week of working at the book publishing office. That's right--after this week, I'm strictly freelance writing and teaching adjunct composition classes, but that's practically freelancing too, as everyone knows.

Today is a rainy, cozy Monday. I'd love nothing more than to check out the books I bought at Goodwill over the weekend and lie around gazing at our Christmas lights.

Alas, duty calls and I'm going to have to get better at answering it. With all this newly-unstructured time on my hands, it might be tough on days like today, when reading and napping sounds better. But as the old saying goes, time is money.

On the agenda for today: write my article about Mayor Riley, interview a couple of bartenders for more of the holiday cocktails story, make appointments regarding a kid I'm tutoring in reading comprehension, and email folks to make sure we're on the same page.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

The Christmas Cliff

Now that it's the first week of December, the Christmas Cliff has begun. Sometimes it starts even earlier like the week of Thanksgiving--or before!

What is the Christmas Cliff, you ask?

It's that special time of year when everyone you speak to--coworkers, vague acquaintances, relatives--wants to make sure that you "get together before Christmas."

It's as if once December 25th hits, everyone falls off the face of the earth.

I started noticing the Christmas Cliff once I became an adult with a busy life. I suppose as a kid it didn't matter so much, because A. I didn't know as many people and B. I had plenty of free time.

Nowadays, everyone is super-concerned with getting that last drink in before the holidays are over. We all know what comes next: January, the most miserable of all months. Surely we must see each other before that!

But the thing is, we will survive January. And we'll see each other in February for my birthday. And we'll drink beer on the beach in the spring. So if we don't see each other for one more festive cocktail with a holly sprig, our friendship won't wither and die, and we won't fall off the Christmas Cliff.

 There's another year coming.