'Tis the Season

Wednesday, Dec. 4, 2002 -
Ap�sl�min ida corbalanyrtne 'ls�o rohl'daathi�m v� nen�a iroyss�rd.

I suffered an ignominious defeat by NaNoWriMo, writing only 10,495 words (approximately) of my nascent novel before the midnight deadline on November 30th. Which didn't bother me one whit because it was a foregone conclusion, almost from the start, that I would not finish in time. I knew, verily, that I would be too busy to make a serious attempt at fulfilling the 50,000 word quota. (The holiday season, which for me began on the second weekend in November--hanging lights, garland, and plastic snowmen on a shopping center in Glendale--is always a little hectic. Well, more than a little.) I allowed myself just enough time to make a perfectly unserious attempt at writing a perfectly unserious novel, and I have to admit, I'm pleased with the thing so far. I'll continue to add to it as long as I remain pleased.

But for the past four days I've been trying to write a diary entry about our Thanksgiving. So far, I've got nothing except a big snarly mess, but that's rather appropriate, because our Thanksgiving very nearly devolved into a big snarly mess, emphasis on the snarly. Certain members of my family decided to make Jer the center of a family controversy, which was, any way you look at it, a thoroughly rotten thing to do to the boy. I'm finding it hard to forgive them--hell, I'm finding it hard to understand them. Fer crissakes, they like Jer! But now, suddenly, they don't like him hooking up with the Fiend and me in a m�nage � trois. Bunch of bloody-minded monogamistical humbugs... I came so close, soooo close to saying something unforgivable to my sisters...

Oh, fuck. Fuckitall.

I don't want to write about this right now. I'm too close to it. I have no perspective. I'll give it a few more days. Or months. Or a year.

Anyway, to make a non-story short, it was the mater who saved Thanksgiving. She sided with the minority opinion (mine) and issued one of her rare ultimatums, and saved us all from the Great Holiday Meltdown. Boy, I'm sure glad I didn't kill her.

Oh, right. I have to tell you that story. About how I almost killed my mom.

Stay tuned.

~

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Ap�sl�min ida corbalan� 'lse nesgla ugar�-cham sa cru ogrulho bat�oltha al�mv�sde.

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