A Smithsonian-Worthy Yule Navel Gaze

 We stubborn hillbillies never forget a slight. When the Smithsonian said this page wasn't worthy of inclusion in its ranks, it rankled. Take this holiday, for instance. It screams, bleats, shouts, and roars "pandemic diary."

People are getting tired of observing pandemic guidelines, and the case numbers are rising again. I'm not an ordinary person, though. I'm a stubborn hillbilly. So when my school deemed it unsafe for small cohorts of students to walk in the door, I flung them a doctor's note so I didn't have to either. I've been working at home ever since. I don't like it, but it beats getting the virus. I gerry-rigged the home office I used for so long as a writer, which is weird in the extreme. 

The worst part is having virtual teachers' meetings at home. All those administrators you can't stand? Suddenly they're in your living room. Makes my skin crawl.

The pandemic has put a lot of time on my hands with nothing to write about, so I have returned to the teenage hobby of cross stitch and embroidery. Look at this Xmas gift I made for The Fair! 

She says everyone will ask where she got it!

I've never been apart from my daughters during the Xmas holidays, and like everyone else in America, I wanted to observe traditions. But ... stubborn hillbilly. Luckily, both daughters live in Philadelphia, so on Xmas morning early (between the period of driving rain and the period of plunging temperatures) we convened on the porch of The Heir's West Philly rowhouse. Heir lives on the third floor. We used the porch.

Heloooo? Smithsonian????? How many pandemic photos do you have of ordinary families following the goddamn CDC guidelines?

The other thing I have never done without on the holidays is a Yule tree. About two weeks before the winter break, I bought a little tabletop "fresh" tree from a supermarket. By Xmas Eve it looked gray as a ghost. So I got in my old car (which needed a spin) and drove to where I knew there was a vacant lot with some pine saplings, and I ethically sourced an organic, free range tree. Third time I've done this, and although it's mean to maim a tree, it certainly cheers things up here.

These New Jersey pines aren't fragrant, but I like the long needles.

Here I am, another American affected by the pandemic, but not nearly or even remotely as dreadfully as a lot of people. Now it's just a countdown until the day the USA is rid of Donald Trump (cross fingers) forever. He's bent upon ruining the nation the way he tanked all his other businesses. What a train wreck.

The Light returns, we'll get through this mess, and the next time you hear from me it'll be from a bottomless pool of self-pity. But I'll leave that for later.