Let the Big Letdown Begin

Well, Christmas 2008 is finally over, and I did get a few things I wanted: a big bucket of birdseed and a case of toilet paper from Sam's Club, but the only reason I got it is my kids have learned I'll give 'em hell if I don't.

They think they ought to give me something "gifty" like perfume with matching dusting powder, but I say leave that stuff at the store or give it to somebody who wants to smell like a streetwalker. If I'm going to bother to take a bath every single day which I do, I don't want that good, clean soap smell to get confused with something that costs an arm and a leg and has a name like "Passion."

It's time for the big letdown that always comes after Christmas. After all those weeks of saying "it's around the corner," and "it's almost here," we've finally arrived at "it's all over for another year."

And I say "Hooray" to that.

Now, a lot of you feel let down because Christmas is over, but I don't because I never did build it up anyway. I tell it as I see it, and I'm telling you now: I wish we'd cut the whole thing out, all but the eating and getting together and maybe the candlelight service over at the church and the kids coming by caroling to us oldsters.

I do have some good news to report: After years of hearing people say, "I'm going to cut back a lot this year," knowing that's a lie, it really happened this year, best I can tell.

I can speak for myself, anyway: I'm tickled to say I got less stuff which means I got less stuff I didn't want.

For the first time I'm not having to clean out the the bottom drawer in the old bureau in the back room where I put almost everything they ever give me which is always something I don't need or even want or know what in the world to do with like another vinyl tablecloth that I won't even take out of the package and they know it.

I always tell my kids: "I don't want anything, but I especially don't want things I don't need or even want. I just don't." Then, depending on my mood and who all's around, I affix a cuss word at the end of it.

Penny where I get my hair fixed says, "I know what you mean, Trix. You really do wish they wouldn't do it, you appreciate it, but---" and right about then I interrupt her and tell her not to put words in my mouth: I don't appreciate it. I mean it when I tell them they ought to cut it all out and save their money. At least leave me out of it.

And for all you who say that's bad for the economy, I say well maybe we need a new economy.

So I'm sorry y'all feel let down that "it's" over for another year, but I'm tickled to death I can finally get back to sharing with y'all all the little everyday ways an old woman who's supposed to be on her last leg is taking vinegar and making vinegar pie.

So when those gray skies get to you over all the weeks before the birds start bleepin' and the blooms are all a-bustin', just remember ole Trixie's here to pass along a brand of cheer you can't buy in a box at the store.

There's some old business to get out of the way and some monkey business coming up. There's still the prize to give away for the winner in the Parade of Pans, and the Truth Revealed about the difference between a sweet potato and a yam.

Me and Delores are thinking about going somewhere New Year's Eve and tying one on, and I know you'll want to hear all about that, then I have to deal with my daughter Lou Ann who swears she sees a bug-eyed alien at the foot of her bed two to three times a week, which I owe to her going through the menopause but she don't.

So if you're down in the dumps over Christmas being over, remember that here at Trixie's playhouse, the fun has just begun.