The December Panic kicked in this morning. It's late this year - usually it starts on Thanksgiving, ha. But this morning I find myself wordlessly roaming my house, mentally curling into the fetal position. It's all the usual stuff, plus the stuff that I should care about but don't usually, plus the stuff that I should care about and never do, plus the bakery, plus the Christmas party, plus the fact that I'm leaving for St. Louis the day after Christmas and will be gone for a week... suddenly I care very much about ALL THE THINGS. All the stuff on the deck that I still haven't put away from the summer? VERY IMPORTANT! The kids not putting their things away in their assigned places and just haphazardly stashing in their rooms? PANIC INDUCING! The fact that no one has any clean socks? I HAVE FAILED AS A MOTHER! My inability to choose a Signature Cocktail for the Christmas party? A DISGRACE TO THE HUMAN RACE!
And the bakery, oh you guys. The bakery basically has two customersSug in December: our big corporate client from last December and then a tiny corporate client who ordered 59 dozen sugar cookies - FAWNCY ones at that. Yesterday we decided that we're not taking any more. We have one tiny order for late December, but that's it. I've turned down lots of orders over the last 2 weeks because we literally have no space, but now it's official. DO NOT CALL US. This is madness, the end.
I should say more about the bakery, for those two or three of you interested in this entrepreneurial mental illness, but that's a little more procrastination than I mean to have right now. (Basically if I am writing on my website I am avoiding something I really SHOULD be doing. Like dishes.)
Let's discuss something more important, like my hair appointment tomorrow. Yes, one million things I need to do, but YOU BETCHA I am going to the salon and fixing my head. The hair is in a state of way-grown-out pixie, where it's more like a slightly layered bob, with some random slicing into it since I cut it myself a few weeks ago. I curl it with a flat iron everysingleday. The layer right under the top layer is all going gray. And the fact that I can gather it into the teeniest of ponytails drives me INSANE. A short hair lady cannot abide even the minutest of ponytails. But I am wondering if I SHOULD let it grow, that maybe longer hair suits me right now (but not TOO long). Everyone I ask says, "Oh, I like it like this!" but NO, WRONG ANSWER.
So when I was wandering around Anthropologie the other day hunting for a Festive Top (this was going to be my too-fat-for-all-my-dresses-holiday-solution), instead I found the most perfect head of hair on the girl manning the dressing rooms. It helped that she was 1) tall and thin and 2) freakishly movie star beautiful. Being none of those things it's entirely possible her hair will not work on my head, but I stalked her anyway and surreptitiously took pictures... I kind of can't believe I did that. So creepy! But she had the perfect long-ish pixie, and her hair was dark like mine and came to a point at the nape of her neck like mine and appeared to be straight-but-worked-over-with-a-flat-iron the way I do mine. SO MAYBE.
Anyway. Congratulations, Me! Instead of folding the pile of laundry on your bed or doing the breakfast dishes, you wrote a pointless blog post! And now you have to go meet a friend for coffee because HELLO it's not like your priorities are COMPLETELY out of whack. When you get back you have nine million sugar cookies to box (AND YOU GUYS I LEARNED HOW TO TIE REAL BOWS!!!!!) so it's not like anything your family actually needs you to do is going to get done today. But you'll have had a good day! Throw some Xanax at that December anxiety issue and you're ALL GOOD!