Well, here we are.
Less than two weeks from Christmas and I have done nothing.
Repeat: Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero.
The house is not decorated, the tree isn’t up, no cards have been mailed.
No cookies have been baked, no special foods prepared. No Christmas carols are playing.
What has happened are things like: my healthcare premium went up 1,100%. Then they had the audacity to deny a claim. Pants I ordered in a 10 long arrived in a size 6 short. While trying to figure out how to print out the return label (because I’m suspicious of putting a QR code on my phone–do you trust those dots?) a paper jam in the printer caused an hour of teeth gnashing and unladylike behavior.
However, the one holiday thing I have been doing is overeating, especially sugar, causing certain parts of my body to migrate, pack up and leave the land of middle age and cross the border straight into old lady territory without so much as a goodbye. Nope. No adios, thanks for putting moisturizer and sunscreen on me all these years. They don’t even put up a fight. They just let gravity take over and pull them straight into Senior-Ville never to be seen or heard from again. I believe the only part of me that hasn’t defected is my elbow.
Despite my aging, sagging appearance this is the time of year people love to comment on how I resemble Cindy Lou Who. Remember Cindy from the movie How the Grinch Stole Christmas? In case you don’t, here’s a picture.
I might be walking the dog or bumbling my way through the crowded grocery store when a little person will look at me and shriek, “You look just like Cindy Lou Who.”
Great. Probably it’s my big eyes and baby fine hair. One thing for sure is no one will ever mistake me for Angelina Jolie, which is probably okay.
But I am not worried. Not the least bit stressed or even a tad perturbed. Nope. I did not utter so much as a Bah Humbug or Pfft! I realize these are first world problems and minor ones at that. And except for the body parts all solvable, (even those can be fixed but are not in the budget). Anyway, I’m just sharing these tiny annoyances so you might empathize with my solution.
I am getting an Emotional Support Chicken, (ESC).
Yup. ESCs are having a moment. Remember when Pet Rocks and Cabbage Patch Dolls were the rage? Well now it’s ESCs. In one 24-hr period I read three on-line stories about these adorable chickens and knew immediately I had to have one.
Take a look:
Cute, right? Even cuter than Cindy Lou Who. Who could resist those sympathetic little eyes? And the name. The one pictured above is Yolko Ono. She was knitted with love by another writer, Linda Gallalee.
Apparently a knitting store in L.A. put together an Emotional Support Chicken Kit™ and it took off. Good to know I’m not the only one that needs something to hold onto.
As I don’t knit or crochet, I fired off an SOS text to my very talented friend and fellow scribe, LA Bourgeois and she offered to knit one just for me. Check out her Substack by clicking on her name—guaranteed to delight.
If you don’t knit or have a generous friend you can look for your own ESC on Etsy.
My very own plump, Zen master chicken. Unflappable. When the going gets tough, the tough may have to cluck. I might take my chicken everywhere. Or save her just for stressful occasions like getting on the bathroom scale. I have to wait for her to get here but already I’m considering the name, “Wilma” for her. Next year instead of being mistaken for Cindy Lou Who, I might be called a crazy chicken lady instead.
Works for me.
And now time to decorate the tree.
Thanks for your support in 2024. See you back here in 2025.
Wilma is on the way! Cluck-cluck!
Get in the sleigh and just cry, "mush!" and see what happens. 🛷