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May 11th 2008

Him & Her:
The Holidays Just Flu By
by Nancy and Dan Sapir

HIM: The holidays are over and for that I am grateful. All that hubbub for a few days is just too much for me. She enjoys it though. She engages herself in woman’s stuff like making sure everybody got gifts, that all the sizes and colors were right, that nobody got more then someone else and that her army of friends each got “something nice.” I become a taxicab during the holidays. She drags be around the mall, Wal-Mart, up to Hanover, Braintree and all points in between. She says it’s because she “wants to spend” with me; we could do that staying home watching the Lifetime channel. If I’m “good” she allows me to wait in the car listening to a football game. I’ve even figured that out.

If she is just picking up a few things, she invites me to wait in the car. If she expects to be lugging a lot of stuff around, I am forced to tag behind. She makes me promise “not to talk” and if I meet someone from town, “Don’t talk politics.” Why would she ever think that I would talk politics during the holidays?

Then there are the thousands of cookies she bakes, in dozens of varieties. We go through more sugar, both brown, confectioners and granulated then Fanny Farmer. I have bought every package of jimmies, silver balls, M&M’s, icing, food coloring and decorations I never knew existed then any man on earth. The kitchen looks like someone detonated a can of powder.

During all this baking she requires that I keep a fire going in the living room fireplace. She says it is a requirement that I provide the ever-present smell of woodsmoke for the passersby in order to provide them with “warm memories of the holidays.” I wonder what scent wrapping paper gives off because that’s where it all goes.

To make matters worse she has been grappling with flu-like symptoms during all these festivities and believe me that presents several challenges. Women are hyper in general, it magnifies during the holidays and places them in a new universe when mixed with sickness. She says its frustrating to have so much to do and not have the strength to do it. Isn’t that where I’m supposed to step in? I’ve never quite understood what she means by “I’d rather that it not get done.”

Of course with the New Year come resolutions. For women this always centers around weight loss. Every year for 37 years she vows to “take off a few pounds.” I got to thinking, if she lost one pound for every year we have been married that would represent one heck of a diet. Men are lucky. We don’t worry about such things as weight loss, our hair or being a fashion plate, especially at this time of year. Just give us a tray of cold cuts, bulkie rolls, a can of beer and the TV clicker and it’s the Patriots, Bruins and Celtics; that’s all it takes to make a guy happy, and it costs little.
Guys don’t worry about making resolutions on New Year’s Eve because we have come to learn that we won’t keep them anyway. So why shoot for failure? Besides, I’m never awake anyway when the clock strikes midnight. A person can get tired easily watching a full sports venue and planning what to eat during the Super Bowl.

HER: There’s nothing more festive and beautiful than Christmas in a small town like ours. The stars shine brightly in a clear cold sky. The Fire Department works so hard to provide us with Luminary Night, a magical bit of time when candles light your way along an historical street while the clip clop of horses’ hooves can be heard all evening as children enjoy a hayride. The churches are open and lit with a golden glow, and cookies and cider are happily served at the old firehouse. It figures that this man would take all of this divinely inspired magic as a sign that the Super Bowl can’t be far away.

The flu got me on Christmas Eve morning. The tree never got put up, and the hats I was knitting for the grandkids never got finished. Christmas dinner was Sudafed, and one of my best gifts was tissues infused with lanolin. I couldn’t hug the kids, and I couldn’t cook. Thankfully, my daughter the vegetarian, is happy munching on a carrot. Himself foraged in the fridge for luminary leftovers, and he was perfectly content. I just wanted to be able to breathe. The amazing thing, however, is that no matter how badly Christmas turned out logistically, it was still wonderful. Family and friends made that happen with a visit, a card, a note, or a call.

Actually, I think he secretly got excited by the fact that the absolutely luscious giant ham a friend gave us for Christmas dinner went unused. He keeps opening the freezer door and looking at it the way he used to look at Celine Dion, or ‘old chicken lips’ as I like to call her. I know that isn’t kind, but if you had seen him during his Celine phase you’d know what I mean. He watched MTV every spare minute he had just to see her pound on her bony chest while she belted out the Titanic song. It was pitiful, but anyway I know what he’s up to. He thinks he can take that ham to a Super Bowl party, but that’s not going to happen.

I will put old shoes in the ham wrappings before that beautiful piece of meat goes to celebrate a bunch of dumb as stumps overpaid jocks whose primary skills involve knocking others to the ground while maneuvering a football from one place to another. Thank God we don’t have a wide screen television, or we’d probably have to host the event with grown men jumping up and screaming and criticizing and tearing meat off chicken wings like medieval knights at a big banquet.

It is so much better to be a woman.

by Nancy and Dan Sapir