Even if you wake up completely challenged by the facts of your particular reality, there’s something profound and salubrious about realizing you have woken up on a Friday.  You can always get through a Friday.

It’s like if Wonka’s Fizzy Lifting Drinks were a day.  Even if you’ll learn later that you were bumping around and taking the sheen off of sacred things with your bumbling joy, you’re naive and stupid and having that joy on a Friday.  The song was right, if it’s going to happen, you’re going to be most aware of the fact you’re in love on a Friday.  It’s a day of hope.  All my most optimistic features and facets come to the fore on a Friday.  All my alliterative powers come alive as well, apparently.
Things to be thankful for right in the center of the holiday season:
-My glasses still holding together from yesterday’s superglue job.
-The idea of baking Christmas spritz or even popcorn balls and not being exhausted by the work it would take.
-That I can mostly get people gifts this year without it being a pinch.  There are so many in the world that don’t have the luxuries I wave my hand at.
-That I am not at my former position’s holiday extravaganza tonight.  For a thousand years I thought I would experience the same evening every first Friday in December. In perpetuity, I saw myself sitting at that desk looking down that hallway while all hell broke loose around me.  Five or six Santas, sugar-mad children in all varying states of mania and reindeer costume, carolers in velventeen capes, everyone with a megaphone, sometimes someone I cared about ignoring me, Pitch the Devil, Merlin, of course, and that burlier He-Man,The Keymaker of Christmas lore.  The smell of cider being cooked in the kitchen is still fairly accessible, my office being overrun with pizza and doughnuts and the coffee pot exiled from the kitchen to make room for more cider tubs.  The special sauce.  The frigid air.  My co-worker at her zenith and immediately at her nadir as soon as the night began to come to a close.  The peace that I had to cobble together in one evening in the snow and make last the rest of the year.  All of that is not the case this year.  This year, I am connected to the holiday by choice and not abject servitude.
-Listening to a Christmas Pandora channel while listening to my sister laugh down the hallway and working on merging databases.
-Eilaea Lavellan (elves can have that many vowels in their names) – who is sort of a more agnostic, vinegary, kohl-rimmed, Dalish-y version of Sera.  With wits in her head.  Tough, suspicious, loyal to those who help and to the idea of clan, hellfire to those who aim to harm her or that idea.  Has spent enough time with humans, though, to see sense about individual humans and individual will even if she struggles with that.
-Learning as we go.

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