I hope this letter finds everyone
surrounded by love and laughter at this time of year, whether it be with family
or friends, at home or on a tropical or snowy holiday or just drunk in a bar
somewhere (I know this rings true for not a few of you). I know many of you have pined (man, am I
good at puns or what?) for this letter and don’t understand why I have left it
so many years in between letters. Well,
yes, it has been a long time indeed since I sent a Christmas letter and I know
exactly when and why the gap – in fact, it’s not been since that ill-fated BMW
Incident. Yes, friends, back in my
heyday of youth, oh those 12 years ago, I was pondering my Christmas letter,
sitting in my rented apartment, on my Roomstore bargain furniture, staring into
the duraflame log, guzzling my beloved Franzia wine-in-a-box, contemplating yet
another failed relationship with a feckless man, when I got good and fed up. (You KNOW you are picturing that sad scene in
Bridget Jones with the bottle of red wine and the cigarette, serenading herself
to “All By Myself” – you wouldn’t be far off.)
Yep, there I was opening the hundredth
Christmas card/family photo/brag-a-thon when I had had enough. I had had enough seeing color-coordinated
denim, khaki and chambray (it was the 90s after all), chubby cheeked cherubs,
dogs in antlers and santa hats, snowy landscapes, glorious fall foliage blah
blah blah. And, that was just for
starters. Unfold the letters and behold!
All the most amazing wondrous and “blessed” events that had transpired (yes,
folks, if there is one theme consistent in the Christmas letter, second only to
“Oh how great is my life” it is “Oh, how blessed am I.” Which we all know is really the same thing.) Now, I love my friends. And, I want them to be happy. And, yes, I
want them to be blessed. Notwithstanding
that we all have a little schadenfreude.
(After all, if we didn’t there wouldn’t be a word for it, right?) But, I was at a loss – what could I possibly
put in MY Christmas letter that would indicate how amazing, wondrous and
blessed I was? And, then it occurred to
me! I had the good fortune to work for
Dell at a time when the stock was multiplying at an unprecedented level, making
us all rich, rich, rich! (on paper, which
turns out isn’t the same thing. Or so, I know now, thank you student loans for
the rest of my life….) So, what did I do?
I bought myself a convertible BMW.
White with tan leather interior. A
five speed, brand new, CD changer in the trunk, heated seats, engine like a
tiger piece of German engineering genius.
It was the most amazing, wondrous and blessed thing in my life – so
natch I told people in MY Christmas letter.
Ok, so maybe I missed the point – maybe my
capitalist superficial blessing wasn’t really in the Christmas spirit, but what
was I supposed to write? Hey y’all, glad
everyone is joyously married to a gorgeous hot sack of sex, with
picture-perfect, well-behaved precocious children, living in a brand new house
with a golden retriever, having the most incredible fabulous life EVER! “Yep, Kristin here, still single since I
can’t seem to commit to anyone who is geographically, legally or emotionally
available, still renting an apartment due to said commitment issue, still can’t
balance a checkbook and oh yeah, I gained 10lbs this year. Merry Christmas, y’all!”
Yeah.
Right. BMW it was.
And, right on cue, all my closest
girlfriends made ridiculous fun of me.
Now, these are my closest girlfriends because they made fun of me TO my
face. Goodness knows what everyone else
was saying behind my back! So, scarred
for life (or just 12 years as it turns out) I swore off the Christmas
letter.
Yet, here I go again, dipping my toe in the
pool of “covet thy neighbour” again. No,
I haven’t miraculously married Channing Tatum, given birth to the next Nobel
prize winner/Miss USA/Mother Theresa or settled down to the recently inherited
manor estate a la Downton Abbey in the English countryside. Hell, I don’t even own a golden
retriever. (although, no shock
here, I DO have two adorable cats with
special needs. (Yes, only I could adopt
a mute cat and a cat with kitty cerebral palsy)). No, what prompted me to write this Christmas
Letter again was a realization that, actually, it has been a pretty good year,
all things considered. And, I do feel
blessed. Or lucky, deserving or random,
depending on whether you believe in God, Buddha, karma or chaos theory. Whatevs.
2012 didn’t start out so auspicious. Flashback to New Year’s Eve – I am on a
riverboat with my parents and best friend in New Orleans, watching some very
bad 80s dancing to what can only be described as the band the Love Boat fired,
chugging gin and tonics and grounded in flat shoes (Louboutins, natch!) thanks
to a couple of broken toes incurred after a particularly raucous evening of
pre-Christmas partying in London.
Notwithstanding the dancing and music, not a bad night, but nothing too
special. (Although, come to think of it,
is New Year’s Eve EVER really any fun?
Can any of y’all actually think of a good one? Bar my friend Paula, who got married on NYE (and, thereby in one fell swoop
screwed up everybody else’s NYE) I certainly can’t. Inevitably someone ends up puking well before
midnight (and, yes, sadly that has been me once. Ok, twice.) and then you dash around madly
looking for someone hot to end the night on with a midnight kiss, before
settling for the short slightly balding guy who tastes of olives.)
So, in hindsight, not such a bad start to
the year. And, what a year it was – not
for me personally so much, but to be in London.
We had the Queen’s Jubilee, the Olympics, the announcement of the new
royal bebe…at times it did feel like a constant party. And, then, of course, I turned 40, which was
a party (and a story) in and of itself.
I got a couple of promotions at work, I went to Greece for a week, became eligible for British citizenship, went
on a very miserable week-long boot camp in Spain, made some new friends. I didn’t fall in love, I DID gain a bunch of
weight, ended up owing a bunch of money in taxes due to an accountant issue, I still live in a rented flat with my two
special cats. My bike got stolen so I
don’t cycle to work anymore. I wrote
more, but not as much as I had hoped. I
didn’t become fluent in any language or compete in a triathalon. I didn’t cure cancer.
But, I loved. And I laughed. I experienced death and pain, learned some
hard lessons about myself and others. I
tried to be kind and understanding, generous and honourable. I was grateful, humbled and loved back.
So, maybe 2012 wasn’t remarkable, but I
wouldn’t have it any other way.
Happy Holidays to you and yours – may 2013
be as unremarkably fulfilling for you as 2012 was for me.
