Musings from a guest blogger

Miss Mellowsky is a little under the weather, so today’s Spew will be led by a substitute writer, Dan (her husband, for those of you who need an explanation). Please be nice to the substitute. No spit balls. No abusing lavatory privileges. No tacks on my chair. Don’t make me call the Principal!

Now, before I take on this assignment, I must admit that I will not be tackling any of the tough women issues that are normally so dear to Lola’s heart and blog. I am confident that I know less about women than I do about quantum physics and any discussion of these issues by me would begin to sound not unlike a Jerry Seinfeld routine (i.e., What’s the deal with all the toilet paper women use in the bathroom?).

Lola has a bad cough and she has been up all night. Her voice is slowly disappearing which is always the sign that Lola is sick. Right now, she sounds like Marcie from the Peanuts cartoon, so I keep having her call me “sir”, much to my own amusement. Here it is Christmas Eve, and we are looking for a very Brady Christmas miracle. Will she be able to sing “O’ Come All Ye Faithful” tomorrow at the Christmas Pageant? One hopes.

However, not only is Lola sick, but she is caught up in a typhoon of pre-holiday things to do. I’m beginning to think Christmas is not a pleasant time of year for someone who tends to be a bit anxiety prone. Let me paint this image for you:

Two days before Christmas, I wake up and walk out into our living room and find Lola sitting at her writing table, head down and immersed in her thoughts as she writes quickly to capture them all on her composition notebook paper. This is her ritual – what she does everyday to get her creative juices flowing. There is usually a bowl of oatmeal with flaxseed next to her.

So that’s what I come out to every morning. It’s taken me a long time to learn it (and I still push my luck) but Lola in this spot is the sleeping bear. Don’t wake her. Don’t interrupt. Don’t say hi. Don’t whistle. It just pulls her out of the zone. So, and again this has taken me a long time to figure out, I do what I can to leave her be, although I always look in her direction to see if she wants to say hi. Often she gives me the warmest of smiles, which starts the day out right.

Two days before Christmas, I pop out of our room, look in Lola’s direction, and she looks up and yells, “WEEDS!”(as in “I am in the weeds” or “I have too much to do.”) I knew we were in for trouble.

We’re doing our best to make it through the holidays, but I am glad I have Lola around to keep me laughing, even though, I must admit, I am laughing at her holiday craziness. Last night we wrapped presents and watched “Love, Actually” (she fell asleep the first time around) in front of our Christmas tree. And even with the weight of all that needs to get done firmly resting on her shoulders (and a mouth full of hacking phlegm), Lola found some peace in the simplicity and joy of a cozy night. A Christmas miracle indeed.

She’s in the shower now. The cycle starts again. We are about to take a three hour car drive only to come three hours back. She is stressed about what we still need to do. She is still thinking about cooking. She is still thinking about shopping. She is still coughing like a 97-year-old man with emphysema. But I know that at the end of the day, we will have survived this holiday once again. Hopefully she’ll have lots to write about tomorrow and she’ll give me a smile too.