Amy Cray

The wind down of 2008 for me was like getting over a week-long flu. The literal drama of the election, economy, the crush of the passage of prop 8 and a few professional crises had pinned me to the wall and fully drained my reserve of typically overflowing optimism, and I could do nothing but sit on the couch and wait for things to get better. Take a little Nyquil, prop the tissue box beside the bed and stare out the window and expect nothing more than a sunless, birdless sky with uninspiring clouds and a light haze of smog. Just let it all glaze over until something, anything, improves because there's nothing we can do until the fever subsides and the virus runs its course.

I did not literally sit and stare out the window, of course. I did what I do best; control and shape anything within my grasp. I buckled down and produced three holidays for the family, complete with a New Year's retreat vacation. With my arsenal of to-do lists I managed to re-dye the living room chair slipcovers, develop the menus and wine selections for Thanksgiving and Christmas allowing for vegan and diabetic diet restrictions, book my mother in-law's trip West, shop for wardrobe piece fill-ins for the colder season and holiday parties, ensure that the cars were washed before family trips and airport pickups, purchase carefully selected gifts well ahead of time and stack them under a reasonably sized Christmas tree, erected the night before the family arrived so as not to spread pine needles throughout the house.

The things I did not get to I can still list without reference: dyeing my hair a darker, more serious brown, frame the oversize photos I bought for the living room and my daughter's room, get the piano tuned, and fix the garbage disposal. I have since checked two off this list as well, but post-2008 it's not nearly as satisfying. I was vying for a complete holiday lock-down, where all boxes are checked, stores are filled, and we just stay the course for a week.

The holidays were anything but haphazard with all this production, and that's what we needed. Some freaking predictability, even tradition, to ease the headaches caused by the unending descent into chaos in the world around us. We don't really dig Christmas, but after coming to terms with it being a family holiday that honors the tradition and culture of older generations in our family (thereby removing our expectations for a "great" Christmas, or even a "merry" one), we worked up all the basics, even the  bacon and french toast breakfast to follow an epic present-opening session on the morning of the 25th. It wasn't the best time ever, but it was tolerable, memorable, and possibly the most sucessful event in getting both sides of the family together to date. And as all married couples know, it is not easy to blend families no matter how much Lillet you drink while you're making dinner (a little holiday stamina provider that I highly suggest). We gave loving gifts to one another, laughed and ate well. Everyone went home happy and we soon headed out to the Coast to enjoy some much needed Mom-Mom-Kid time and try to usher in the New Year with a little resolve to figure out how to take better care of ourselves, to stop and look around at the sky and the trees, to sit in the hot tub and let the simple joy of bubbles from the jets make us giggle.

In 2007 we tried so hard to make New Year's more of a personal reckoning holiday for the family. I had every intention of honoring the day with a sort of Nightwatch-Chinese New Year hybrid; where we pay our debts, thank the people who have contributed to our happiness, eat black-eye peas and clean the house, made amends, made resolutions based on true personal reflection rather than hallmark sentimentalism or standard issue self-improvement (i.e. I will be skinny and have great eyebrows, or I will be kind to people and volunteer more). But with all the fuss of travel and coordination for the other holidays, I didn't have the presence of mind to make all those amends, or even figure out what they were. I decided maybe we should start observing Passover, which is nicely placed in a holiday-free zone where one has time to pay attention to dusting without the distraction of running out to the store for more half and half for the guests.

With this year's attempt to just drop out for New Year's, I felt the reconnection I was craving, but still have yet to just, well, get started on the rest. I've got a handful of to-do lists, business concepts, projects and goals, but I've yet to put them in action. We are slipping gently into February and time just seems to be rolling along. And now I've got the flu, and it won't go away.