So here we are.
I should be happy. It’s my silver blog-iversary! This is blog entry number 25. (And they said we wouldn’t last...)
But my brow is furrowed.
I am in the midst of a conundrum. A conundrum that is sweetened and buzzed by this mug of creamy Williams-Sonoma hot chocolate that I am nursing, but a conundrum nonetheless.
The sun has set, the chill is deep, and Christmas Eve looms. So it begs the question: What shall I give to you, dear reader(s), on this, our first blog-iday together? I have no gift to bring, pa rum pa pum pum. And our relationship is still so new, not even four months old, and we all know how tricky that can be. A blog about my childhood is too personal, too soon. A blog about that sandwich I just ate is too superficial for the holidays.
A side note: to those dear, sweet friends of mine who know me personally and still actually read this blog, this is not new, and I apologize. You got it in your 2008 holiday card, but it is still a sentiment that endures through the ages. And if you’re lucky enough to have forgotten it, well then, bonus: it’ll seem shiny and new!
So here it is, a little holiday poem for you:
If your meat’s in a mound
And your french fries are drowned
And your chocolate fudge sundaes
Are whipped cream crowned
Then it shouldn’t astound
If you gain a pound
And a pound and a pound
Until you are round
Yes indeed. Welcome to me.