Uber Spies Don't Put Up Stockings

There are too many distractions in December ;-). I mean, how can I write with Christmas shopping calling my name? I still haven't put up the festive Christmas decor. I'm getting worse every year. One day I'll be doing it the night before Christmas, out of guilt, because everyone's celebrating Christmas and I feel like a scrooge without any wrapped presents, twinkly tree, and the smell of holly and pies in my house.

Like an uber-spy, it's tough living alone during Christmas and events like Thanksgiving and 4th of July. No, I don't get the holiday blues, but I feel guilty because I'm working ;-). worse, I have a business partner who's a workaholic too.

I've watched fireworks from the rooftop of a house I was working on on the 4th of July. I've peeked at 4th of July cookouts and family backyard antics from 20 feet in the air. I won't tell you about the Christmas morning when we decided to fire up the compressor at 9 a.m....boy, that was workaholicism to the extreme!

We've mellowed a bit. We only work half a day now. LOL. We've even taken Christmases off the last couple of years.

It's not like I don't celebrate the wonderful holidays; it's just that I'm not truly a part of it because I've lived alone most of my life. I do send the gifts and cards, partake of the dinners with friends, open the bottle of wine, etc., but I suppose it's not quite the same as waking up to the screams of kids wanting to check out the presents under the tree, you know? It's been years since those nights when I gathered with a family around a fireplace and chitchatted Christmas stories while drinking Irish coffee. Sometimes I miss it and sometimes I don't.

And being a writer takes away even more of my time from my friends and family. I have to sit at the puter instead of shop (of course, I procrastinate by shopping online!) and I rush from house chore back to puter to bills to puter to 101 other things to puter. But it doesn't stop the guilt. I need to take out that box of Christmas decor soon....

Speaking of Christmas decorations, there is this house near mine which has at least five million Christmas yard ornaments. At least. There is no place to walk in that yard--all the green is either covered by candy cane, Christmas lights, Mary and Joseph and barn animal dolls, and glowing snowflakes. My question is--where do these people put these things in between Christmases? Floridians don't have basements and our attic is just a small little space above the garage. This isn't a particularly big house either, so I keep wanting to yell to them when I drive by: "where do you put away all these ornaments, yo?!"

I used to put up lights all round the eaves of my roof, just like everyone, until I realize that it's hard work to come home and climb up on a roof to string lights. So I made a promise to myself one day--if it becomes a chore, then it's no longer fun, and if it's no longer fun, then why do it? So, no more strung lights around the eaves.

In case you feel sorry for me, don't. I live life to the fullest and I do celebrate wonderful Christmases whenever I get the opportunity. I just don't quite do it in a traditional way. For example, the strangest Christmas-New Year I ever had was a family reunion of Lows in Las Vegas a while back. 400 Lows doing the macarena IS NOT PRETTY. The experience still haunts me ;-). Worse, for New Year, the band entertaining us was...Huey Lewis and The News. I kid you not. This was in 1999, I think. I thought the Twilight Zone had transported me back to the 80s when it was "hip to be square," except that my grand-aunt was standing in front of me singing along in a loud off-key Chinese-ised version, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry hysterically. Then they all did the Macarena again.

When I sold Into Danger, I went to New York City to celebrate the new year. I watched the crystal ball drop and did the countdown with half a dozen NYC policemen standing in front of me and barricades all around. Very bizarre. But I got to kiss a cutie cop ;-). Shhh.

There's a big difference in being lonely and being lonesome. Just ask the uber spy. He knows.

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