Christmas has come and gone, dearest readers, and I am left in the remnants of the holiday; the rich spices of the holiday candles linger in the apartment, the least tempting of the Christmas cookies sit in Tupperware on the counter in hopes of consumption, though the candidates up for the job are nearly sick on the copious sugar of the season. The mound of shredded wrapping paper has been cleared and thrown away, but the gifts received loiter about awkwardly like frightened children in a new school, waiting to be told where to go.

This Christmas was nice, if unfamiliar. Three days before Christmas Bryan and I sat in my car as I sobbed with Christmas blues; it didn’t feel like Christmas, and in the token ways, as I can now clarify in retrospect, it never did: Cincinnati lacked more than snow- the temperature was moderate and it felt like early autumn- and Bryan and I experienced some difficulty while trying to whip up the Christmas spirit. It wasn’t until sometime last week that we finally got the ornaments up, and we (well, I) furiously shopped for last minute baubles until the stores closed early Christmas Eve. I very much feared for the holiday before hand because this was the first year I felt frustrated with and hurried by Christmas; I had spent so much time worrying about my procrastination, and then had rushed through the horror of doing everything last-minute so hurriedly that I had done little to enjoy the season. I felt as if Christmas had pounced upon me without any of the delightful precursors. Once the shopping was finished, however, and the ornaments charmingly danced above the apartment we shacked up as the world around us shut down for a day. We baked delicious sugar cookies and mediocre gingerbread, watched and listened to Christmas programming, opened presents and sipped sapphire martinis. The house was warm and filled with the traditions that Bryan and I were beginning- such as our martinis, though I suspect that we’ll be drinking those quite often- and I am very happy with the Christmas I was lucky enough to enjoy.

Christmas has now passed, I’m afraid, and the world has resumed its unnerving pace. I returned to work last night, and five hours of the bistro’s stressful bustle was enough to make the entire season seem over and long gone. I made good money; I was stuck in a crappy three-table section that had endless problems, but due to the overwhelming volume of guests I still managed to walk with $72 (which couldn’t be more welcome at this point in time; Christmas has left me with $50 in my savings account and, well, nothing in my checking. A parking ticket has added additional stress to my financial strains- seriously, what type of heartless hard-ass gives a parking ticket a day after Christmas? There was no one downtown. WTF- and car insurance is due on the fourth). Making money is good, especially now, and I am ready to leave the joy and stress of the holiday behind and move on to 2007.

Perhaps lingering December excitement provides me with such content closure. Bryan received an unexpected bonus check a couple of days before Christmas, which allows us to execute the many decorating plans we’ve been stewing up for the apartment. Yesterday he ordered a corbu three-seater from Stendmar, a fantastic California company we were lucky to find, and we hope to have built a bookcase and a credenza by the time it is scheduled to arrive on the 12th. At that time we will have acquired the staples of the apartment, sans the hanging screens we plan to build, and we will begin the enjoyable, satisfying process of collecting the items that will complete the space: rugs, plants, vases, accent chairs, etc. The loft will be breathtaking. Due to our lack of funds we’ve had months upon months to devise and sketch, and now that we have the means to act upon half a year’s worth of brainstorming the space will be thought-out and well designed. We already have a couple of excellent items that will make the loft truly brilliant, and soon we will be that polished, fabulous couple that is normally restricted to supporting roles of idealized romantic comedies; we, the martini-sipping designers, with a WWII first aid tin to hold our pepto bismal and 1961 Gense salt shakers to pepper our meat, our Mac book sitting coyly in a clever, darling 1970s Air France flight bag, all found for dirt-cheap prices by our creative, brilliant frugality, and we’re in love to boot.

I return to university in six days. I am ready and excited; the success of last quarter has boosted my confidence in my ability to perform this quarter. I did my research before registering, picked easy teachers for my art history and English classes, and know exactly what to expect in my studio classes. I’m sure I’ll ace this quarter as I aced the last, and scholarships now feel within reach. The holidays are over but winter has just begun, yet soon, after the drudgery of January and February the sun will warm the city and beckon spring, and soon summer will follow, and I will look forward to the holidays once again.