Klowns in my Koffee

Daily Kup (What I Learned on My Reality Break)
The tribe has returned to school, to college, and to work and it is quiet. This is not the quiet of the scenic winter day but rather the silence that hangs over the site of crash landings after the ambulances have left. There are bits of wrapping paper, toys without assigned homes, the occasional ownerless sock, the flotsam and jetsam of the post-holiday scene. I wander through the wreckage like the victim of a head injury.

The tree has a few more days to go from a "Twelve Days of Christmas" perspective and I appreciate its company. It doesn't complain or ask to play video games or eat every few minutes; it simply shines and does its job.

I will be kind to myself today for this is my personal holiday, christened 'St. Buddy's Day.' In my fledgling mock-theology, St. Buddy died a painful death for the holiday cause. While wrapping gifts, he received a mighty paper cut. Searching for a band-aid, he took a wrong turn into a dark corner, lit a match to get his bearings, and was immolated in a flashfire of eggnog that was a little too seasonally spiked. It is in remembrance of him that we abandon our naked Christmas trees on the side of the road near the garbage cans like so many green, spiky winos.

I probably should lay off those New Year's Twilight Zone marathons.

Sartorial Splendor
On Day 279 http://klowns-in-my-koffee.blogspot.com/2010/12/day-279-new-years-perspective.html, I mentioned Mr. T and the Snuggie that he has been wearing that gives painful reality to the term "sad sack."