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I am definitely in a holiday slump. In fact, if this were baseball, I’d surely be benched for the rest of the season. What’s more, this might be the year I’m finally forced into retirement. 

Retirement from the most wonderful time of year…kind of has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? 

I swear, every year I try to escape this feeling of holiday angst. Yet, every year I seem to strike out. 

I knew this year was going to be a doozy as soon as I welcomed back our mall Santa. After an embrace and some small talk, he said to me, “Whoa…somebody’s getting gray!” And suddenly, I felt like I was 100 years old, which is quite ironic considering the source – a character that is actually 1,748 years old!

That was it. No need to go any further. You could stick a sugarplum-laced fork in me. I was done.

And the sad part was, it was only November 13th at the time. I still had 42 more days of this crap.

And so it began…

I have to admit, the gray comment wasn’t as bad as some of the other comments Santa has made to me over the years. For instance, one year he asked, “How old are you now?  And you’re still not married?  What’s wrong with you?”

With remarks like this coming out of Santa’s droll little mouth, it’s no wonder I feel so Ho-Ho-Hopeless this time of year.

In reality, Santa is the least of my problems. And I do love our mall Santa. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again – finding the right Santa is like finding the right man. Once you know he’s the one, you need to stop looking and hold on to him forever…even if he does hail all the way from Florida. (So, technically, he’s from the East Pole.)

And it is for this reason and this reason alone that I can put up with a few inappropriate comments here and there. Besides, it’s not like the comments are inaccurate. They’re just a little more honest than I prefer…and coming directly from the lips of my one-time childhood idol.

But again, and I cannot stress this enough, as long as Santa is good with the children, wearing pants, not hitting the bottle or on single moms, and doesn’t have a rap sheet, we’re good. In fact, we’re great.

At least Santa is still an acceptable symbol of the holiday season…at least, for now. I’m sure it won’t be long until he too is labeled a sexist, raciest pedophile by a scorned believer who didn’t get a Cabbage Patch doll in the eighties. I joke, but really…is it that far-fetched?    

Not only have we lost our true holiday spirit, but we’ve also lost our senses of humor, and our sense of perspective on life itself.

I was dumbfounded by the recent ban of the holiday classic, Baby, It’s Cold Outside. I have never once listened to that song and thought, “Huh, this is the anthem for date rape.” It was written in 1944, people! Why now? And where does it stop?

I could pick-a-part a ton of holiday classics. For instance, aren’t we condoning elder abuse with Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer?

Santa Baby is clearly about a women coming on to a married man – what about Mrs. Claus, Miss Eartha Kitt?  Did you ever think about her feelings when you were coming on to her husband? Did you? Did you?!?

I’m not sure whether Rudolph,the Red-Nosed Reindeer is about bullying or facial deformities…either way, it’s wrong.

Let’s face it, Frosty the Snowman is just a drawn out, graphic death march.

And don’t even get me started on White Christmas…could that song be more racist???

Seriously, where does it all end?

Yet, I think this really pinpoints what’s wrong with the world today – we’re moving backwards at a rapid pace. We’re so focused on “fixing” and “righting” the past that we’re ignoring how we can improve the future. It seems everyone is so easily offended and triggered by the smallest, most insignificant things. This creates an environment of animosity and hate, as opposed to compassion and kindness.

And isn’t compassion and kindness what this season is supposed to be about?

Don’t misinterpret what I’m saying. I’m not trying to takeaway from those who have truly struggled or suffered. I’m just asking if we could be a little less offended by a song written 74 years ago, and a little more concerned about current affairs – such as all those who have died or been displaced in the recent wildfires. You know, things that really matter.

Despite doing my best to focus on what really matters –and trust me, in my line of work, that’s really, really hard – I am still baffled as to how I am supposed to feel during this oh-so-joyous season. Right now, I don’t really feel anything, except maybe a little indigestion.

In a society where the birth of Christ is overshadowed by the birth of Kardashian offspring, it’s difficult to get wrapped up in the spirit of the season – no pun intended. On the other hand, it’s actually quite easy to get caught up in the unimportant minutia.

Speaking of which…I work at a mall. We start focusing on the holiday season in early summer. By mid-November, Santa is onsite making fun of my appearance and marital status. By Black Friday, my office phone line magically transforms into the mall complaint center, and all I can think about is how I wish I could add a little holiday “cheer” into my morning coffee.

I don’t think I’ll ever get that special feeling you’re supposed to have during the holidays while working at a mall. Yet, I’m not so sure I would feel any different if I didn’t work at a mall. I’d definitely have less content for my blog. But would I be any more cheerful if I didn’t have to deal with Santa or the elves? (And let me tell you…the elves have issues.) Didn’t have to calm angry shoppers and demanding retailers? Didn’t have to coordinate the annual holiday parade…

Oh, that effing parade.

Fifty-five minutes of crowds, chaos, lost children and every kind of scout imaginable. My absolute worst nightmare.

This year I also had to deal with King Walnut’s dementia, battling auto dealerships, complaints about the rain, (because apparently, precipitation is now MY fault), and middle-aged singing elves who kept asking me if I’d seen the Children of the Damned. (Don’t ask because I have NO IDEA why.)

The parade would have only been a half hour of torture if it wasn’t for the darn ARF Mobile…the slowest vehicle to come down a parade route since EVER. I saw my life flash before my eyes as I was waiting for it to make its way down the street. And then, I watched my life replay six more times, as the van was moving that slow! Once the mobile did finally pass us, one of my co-workers asked the driver, “Is there a gas pedal in that thing?”

Eventually, Santa took to the event stage – (we had to use the riot gear to get him through the mob-like crowd) – to light the mall’s 40-ft Christmas tree. I could hardly wait. Once that sucker is lit, Tracy can get lit! (Bring on the Jingle Juice!)

Ironically, that dream too was stalled as I had to wait for the geriatric elves to sing fifteen effing verses of Jingle Bells. Fifteen verses! Who knew that song had so many verses? Oh the humanity!!! And those effing bells!

But, that’s my season in a nutshell, and I’m not talking about King Walnut’s massive paper-mache head. This event that is oh-so-enchanting to all the children in attendance, has absolutely no effect on me. Well, that’s not true. It gives me anxiety, heart palpitations and a mean case of acid reflux.

Since then, the anxiety has settled into my bloodstream and left me with mind-numbing headaches and the nervous habit of gnawing on my fingernails as if they were Corn Nuts. I’ve also put on an ample share of winter weight, (yes, that’s a thing and I can no longer button my pants), and my face looks like it should be featured on the TLC hit, Dr. Pimple Popper. 

I also recently decided to part ways with my trainer, which has been putting a damper on my workout schedule. While her regimen usually consisted of weights and cardio, my routine is more wine and couch-o. In fact, I don’t want to brag, but I’ve been hitting the couch pretty hard lately…and the wine too! Both my momentum and creativity has been depleted, making it really hard to muster up the energy to do anything…accept pick up a wine glass…or lay in the fetal position on the couch!

Merry Groundhog’s Day!

I think a more proper salutation for the season would be Merry Groundhog’s Day, because, let’s face it, I’ve lived it all before – I was just wearing different (smaller) clothes. The thing that annoys me about my Groundhog’s movie – which I’ve cleverly title It’s a Ho-Hum Life and would still like Bill Murray to costar in – is that the scenes are repeating themselves and flashing by at a much swifter speed. It’s like my finger is stuck on the fast-forward button on the remote, and I can’t seem to press STOP or PAUSE.

I know it may sound hypocritical of me, but as much as I want this season to fly by – I wouldn’t mind life itself slowing down a bit. It really is a no-win situation.

Oddly enough, as much as I anticipate the season being over, there is a small part of me that wishes I could find more enjoyment in it all. Don’t get me wrong, there are things I like about the holidays, such as giving gifts, helping those in need and looking at the beautiful Christmas lights throughout the neighborhood.

However, despite the brightness of the season, a lot of what is important gets lost in the noise, and I so long for some peace and understanding. I blame myself for allowing this negativity to take over my being, and at this point – 19 years at the mall – I feel completely helpless against it.

Look, I’m not asking for a miracle, just a subtle reminder of what Christmas is all about. I wish Linus, from Peanuts, would walk into my office, blanket in hand, and say the same words to me that he said to a clueless Charlie Brown.

Lights Please…

“And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by night, and lo the angel of the Lord came upon them and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid, and the angel said unto them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a savior, tis Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you. You shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly hosts, praising God and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.”

And that’s what Christmas is all about, Tracy Lynn.

Peace on earth and goodwill towards men. Sounds likes something we could use year-round instead of a mere six weeks out of the year. In fact, maybe peace on earth and goodwill towards men is the actual meaning of life.

HOWEVER, with that said, in the era of #metoo, I am strongly offended by that little bastard Linus saying “goodwill towards men.” Uh, what the hell, Linus? Where’s the women in that statement, you chauvinistic pig!?!? You think the savior just popped out of an Easy Bake Oven? What a slap in the face to Mary! To women everywhere!!! I want A Charlie Brown Christmas banned from every TV in the nation! I want to OWN you Linus, and you’re little blanket too! I’m suing Charles Schulz for millions – I don’t care if he’s dead.

And that sums up the ridiculous times we live in.

But, there does appear to be a small Christmas miracle after all. Apparently, I do still have a sense of humor. Perspective on life…I’m working on it. 

And, believe it or not, there is one thing I truly do love about this season– New Years! Time to move FORWARD! Time for renewed hope.

It’s my chance for a do-over. Sure it’s Groundhog’s Day 45.0, but it’s also my opportunity to try to do things a little better than the year before. And being that I don’t like to move backwards, I’m totally up for the challenge.

Bring on 2019! I’m soooo ready for it!

To all my family, friends, and Forty Tale Fans (the both of you) – Happy Holidays to all, and to all an amazing 2019! 🙂

And she lived Ho-Ho-Hopefully Ever After.