One book that has unexpectedly stuck with me this year is Shonda Rhimes’ memoir Year of Yes. I’m fairly certain I’m not the target audience. I’m not a woman. I’m not black. I’m not a mother. I’ve never even seen a minute of her shows. But I am a bit introverted and increasingly my default position for a great night is reading a book on the couch. Maybe I’d let the dog in the room with me. And a bottle of wine.
So when Michelle suggested, not just adding a side trip to DC, but also to NYC during our drive to see family over Thanksgiving, my knee jerk reaction was a hardy hell no. Nothing could be further from my comfy couch than Midtown Manhattan during Thanksgiving week. It all sounded like a recipe for a stress and anxiety milkshake.
Deep breath. Say yes. Let’s do this….
If you ask Ally, her Dad doesn’t like Christmas. For the record, I do like Christmas. I am not particularly fond of Christmas music and I’m really not fond of Christmas music in early November. I’ve had a ‘No Christmas Music Until after Thanksgiving’ rule in our house dating back to ’02. I like to enjoy one holiday at a time. The girls and their enabler of a mother like to try to find opportunities to sneak carols in, but I hold the line. The turkey has to be cool and the mashed potatoes covered in foil before I let those holiday playlists ring.
Of course, we have now crossed the Rubicon and the girls are delighting in assaulting my ears at every opportunity. I can only grin and bear and occasionally threaten to write Santa about their deviant behavior.