Christmas Blues

I will probably bitch and complain about the holidays a lot this year.  It doesn't mean I'm a total Scrooge, nor have I always been this way.  There's a big reason why I'm just not feeling it.
I had planned on spending the holidays going to parties, driving around looking at Christmas lights, snuggling up in front of a fire watching Christmas movies, attending church services, going to Longwood Gardens, and exchanging gifts (some of which are sitting in the back bedroom until I figure out what to do with them) with the man I love.  But all of those plans have gone down the shitter since he came to the realization that he can't love me back at this point and time in his life.  So being newly single during the time of year everyone is posting pictures of themselves with their significant other doing wonderful Christmas-y things really fucking sucks.
I'm lonely and down in the dumps, along with probably more than half of the population I'm sure, but I'm not friends with or related to half of the population.  I'm friends with and related to people who are not alone, people who have that someone to cuddle up to while watching Christmas Vacation.
I know, I know - wah wah wah.  Whatever.  I had it all and it slipped right through my fingers.  The first Christmas party I attended this year was fun, I met some really nice people and didn't pay for one drink.  The second party I attended, immediately following the first, was fun as well.  I participated by making my delicious beer cheese soup and providing a homemade bottle of Limoncello that was given to me at the first party.  (You could say it was a hit, because it was gone in less than an hour.)  I remember announcing my arrival - "Ladies and gentleman, Snooki is here and she is trashed!"
By the time 2 am approached, I was sober and while driving home, regardless of the fun I had, the tears came on hard.
I don't want it to be this way.  I didn't want to decorate the trees with a shitty attitude, but it has consumed me.  I don't want to finish my Christmas shopping because I had to cross him off of my list.  I don't want to bake because I just don't care, and it shows - about half of my cookies ended up burnt and now I'm even less enthusiastic about tackling the pizzelles.
I know it could be worse.  I know there are people losing their loved ones this time of year; they can join my club.  I don't have my father anymore, or my MomMom & PopPop.  But don't think for one minute that I am not thankful for those I do have in my life, the ones helping me through the mess of my life this year.  They are always there for me.
But still, I just want to crawl into bed and wait until it's all over.  It hurts to see everyone so excited and happy and having a grand ole time while I'm on the sidelines, dead inside.  At least I can put on a facade that still works on the untrained eye.

Pepperoni Purgatory

We're not even halfway through December and I'm already breaking out the Tylenol.  Although this year I might need something a little stronger.  (Horse tranquilizer maybe?)

My brother and I baked a dozen loaves of pepperoni bread last night, keeping the tradition our father started with us going.  I had insisted we do it this past Sunday but, God forbid, the Eagles were playing at 1:00.  Instead my brother and my 4-year-old nephew came over last night, a school/work night.  Big mistake, because guess who got stuck with having to finish baking, cooling and slicing half of the truckload we made?  This girl.  The one who had to get up at 4:30 this morning.  And guess who was rushing around just trying to get it done instead of enjoying our time spent together and baking this stuff with the love and care that we used to when our Pop was alive, because Nico was wired as hell and doing his 4-year-old thing while our mother is down for the count with an upper respiratory infection?  Yup, my brother.

Four burnt loaves of pepperoni bread and one small grease fire later, the chaos finally ceased and the seasonal treat our friends and family love so much was finished baking.

To keep in mind for next year,
- Buy the dough at least a day in advance.  An hour to thaw?  Bullshit.
- We need 4 pounds of sliced pepperoni - 3 doesn't cut it - and not from just any deli counter.  I believe that to be the cause of the grease fire.
- We also need to have about six pounds of mozzarella cheese on hand.  I did not appreciate having to make another grocery store run in the middle of the baking proceedings.
- It's smarter to start during Nico's nap time because then he's less apt to be a maniac while we're fighting grease fires and ending up covered in shredded mozzarella and flour.
- Ma's baking pans are shit.  Guess what she's getting for Christmas this year?

Now to brave the snow and go get chocolate chips so I can bake even more.  Because, you know, I forgot all about them the two separate times I was in the grocery store yesterday.