Saturday 1 January 2011

The long dark tea-time of the year

I witnessed a good omen at the crack of midnight. As London fireworks freckled the perennial cloud cover orange, a neighbor set loose four little fire balloons into the night. The sky rose up to meet them as they glided, hopeful, unashamed, brilliant, out into the big world. I watched in childish wonder, having never seen such a thing before. After a pause, my neighbor unleashed a fifth balloon. This left me a bit worried.

At first light. 
As we enter the year of the skint rabbit, and in keeping with the general mood of austerity and blerg, I'd like to raise a modest sidecar toast to your coming 365 days in an appropriately downbeat but affordably hopeful manner:
May the pot-holey road rise up to meet you and may fowl economic winds always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face when you dream, while in reality the rain falls soft upon your cramped bedsit. May your year not suffer excessively for the excesses of years past. And until we meet again, may you hold your dear ones in the palm of your heart, and never tire of eating tinned beans together by candlelight. 
Christmas is long unwrapped. Crackers cracked. Turkeys gobbled. Household alcohol, sugar and butter reserves are at record lows. But in the silver linings department, waistlines remain plentiful. This may be the case for some time to come, as New Year resolutions were axed in an effort to incur savings at the Department of Introspective Affairs.

Midwinter is so very bleak. January actually means 'a month-long graveyard shift'. Seriouslycheck the Dictionary of Mañana. But complainers like me have been complaining thus for at least as long as women have been having children. And I know that spring will ultimately bloom again, and my sense of optimism will simultaneously emerge from the dark. In the meantime, winter takes advance payment for those finite, perfect sunny days ahead at the height of summer.
The cure for the blergs. 
Now I understand why my Scandinavian ancestors braved all manner of adversity to migrate a little closer to the equator. I suspect they are laughing at me through time and space for doing just the opposite. That said, I have high hopes that this year will be brighter and sail higher than the last one, for all four of us here at Chaos HQ.

Humbug. Happy New Year.

12 comments:

  1. Happy new year to you too!

    I saw my first candle lanterns last night too. At first I had no idea what they were, then they gently wafted closer and I worked it out. You'd NEVER find these in Australia! No sooner would you launch it, that you've started a major fire and subsequently found yourself in gaol. So I'm enjoying them while I'm here in the UK.

    x

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks Mid30s! You'd never find 'em in New Mexico for the same wildfire/resulting incarceration reasons. A perk of living in a swamp I suppose-here you are free to launch beautiful, flaming balloons at will. How cool!

    ReplyDelete
  3. What a great post! Am looking forward to more in the new year!
    XxX
    ps how do I subscribe?

    ReplyDelete
  4. Thank you GWM, how kind!

    You can click 'follow' if you have a gmail, or subscribe to posts via rss, or join the facebook page which is updated with every post--all three options are over on the upper right-hand side of the page. I try to put most links into twitter too...subscription a good plan as my posting/mental state is by nature very sporadic!

    Happy New Year to you and yours!
    ~M

    ReplyDelete
  5. its really nice post thanks for sharing with us!

    ReplyDelete
  6. Thanks Mid30s! You'd never find 'em in New Mexico for the same wildfire/resulting incarceration reasons. A perk of living in a swamp I suppose-here you are free to launch beautiful, flaming balloons at will. How cool!

    ReplyDelete
  7. But did your wishes come true? (over from the Fibro)

    ReplyDelete
  8. Still a work in progress, but they did actually :)

    ReplyDelete
  9. Rachel - I love your toast. Though I have experienced the effects of this foul economy, I have yet to experience a "fowl economic wind." Is that when on a bleak winter's day, you stand outside, and a gust of wind blows bird droppings down on your head?

    ReplyDelete
  10. Hah! Well spotted.

    Bird doo is part of this weather phenomenon for sure. As is a tired mama, a qwerty keyboard, an empty bottle, and the peaceful midnight quiet of a toy-littered living room.

    ReplyDelete
  11. I trust that now the sun is shining a bit more in your part of the world your spirits have lifted as high as those little balloons?

    Thanks for Rewinding at the Fibro.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Spirits are flying much higher now Allison, you are right there. Silly how much my mood ups and downs correlate to the weather!

    ReplyDelete