Usually, we travel to Iowa for Christmas to celebrate with Brian’s family. My family that’s still in Chicago celebrates around the New Year because my mom usually travels at this time. Unfortunately, I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to go to Iowa because I was starting to fall into a depression. I decided not to let it stop me, but by then our sitters were booked and I was hesitant to try someone new that we didn’t know at all — I mean, they’d have keys to our place! I personally know the owners of our regular sitters.

I was really disappointed about not seeing Brian’s family. Although we haven’t gone to Iowa consistently because of my depression, we were there last year and the year before, I think. We usually spend Thanksgiving and New Year’s quietly at home, but not Christmas.

So Brian decided to do his best to give me his family’s traditional Christmas and asked me what I liked about it — in terms of food. He said he’d be making ham with mashed sweet potatoes and (fresh, not canned) green bean casserole. I said Christmas cookies like his grandma used to make — the kind with that sort of hardened icing, not frosting from a can — and brownies. Then his jaw dropped when I said deviled eggs. I love deviled eggs even though they’re so bad for you. But I offered to help with the eggs — I mean, how hard can it be to make them? No, I don’t know how to boil an egg, but I could help with the rest of it. I even offered to help with the baking.

Old-timers know Why I Am Not a Domestic Goddess. In fact, I’m a danger to myself in the kitchen. I’ve sliced my thumb wide open slicing a bagel — that doesn’t even involve the oven. And when we got these rubber, dishwasher-safe pot holders, I thought the hole on one end was to slip your thumb through, which I did, and burned myself removing something from the oven.

On Sunday, we got a call from one of the nurses at our vet, who said she could sit for us. Hooray! Fortunately, there were still rooms available at the hotel where we planned to stay. Not a whole lot of room at Mom and Dad’s — Brian’s 2 siblings and their spouses are staying there, and one of the couple’s 2 dogs!

This holiday season has been the first I’ve enjoyed in years. Even when I didn’t think we’d be able to see Brian’s family. He took last week off and we filled out holiday cards and wrapped presents together. In the past I’d done most of that but doing these things together is what made it so much fun. All of our local packages have been dropped off and we have 2 packages to take to the post office that won’t make it to their destinations by Christmas, but oh, well.

Sure, I’m feeling the holiday stress like everyone else, but I did get my shopping done early. All of this has been a lot of progress on my part because in previous years I did all the shopping online. A few years ago I stopped sending cards because it was all too overwhelming and I was just too depressed. Although I’m sure we won’t get everything done that we’d like, I’m doing my best not to worry about it. Maybe I’m finally learning not to be such a perfectionist.

Today, I realized that I must be improving because I actually feel happy. Happy. I felt kind of sad, too, though, because it took me a while to figure out what I was feeling because I hadn’t felt it in so long. And although I’m enjoying the season, no, I’m not wearing cheesy holiday sweaters and going around singing Christmas carols.

These 2 things do not go together. While I love having pretty toes, once it gets below 60°, maybe even 70° because I get cold easily, I stop wearing flip-flops or sandals. Lately, I have considered not getting color during the colder weather because first of all, no one sees my toes except for Brian, the cats, and me. OK, I suppose the ladies in the gym locker room might notice them.

Second, it takes way too frickin’ long for the polish to dry and even when the nail tech assures me that it’s safe to put on my socks and clogs (which is what I bring even when there’s a foot of snow, because I will not pull on snow boots after a pedicure), even when she assures me that it’s safe, well, sometimes she’s wrong. As soon as I get home and pull off my socks, what do I find? Ruined polish.

It just so happens that there’s a salon a block away from our hotel. Though I already have my next pedicure scheduled — you know how they get busy with the holidays and all — and my nail tech has warned me against getting pedicures while on vacation because you pay a lot more and might get a decent pedi, I wanted pretty toes. Besides, my nail tech did recommend getting massages while on vacation and again, since there’s a salon a block away, I scheduled one — which was fantastic, by the way. But I couldn’t resist asking about a pedi because I. Want. Pretty. Toes. Plus, we’re in Cedar Falls, IA, so how expensive could it be, even if they do a shitty job?

And as you can see from the picture above (click to see the large image and the wonderful new OPI color I decided to try called “Dear Santa”), my toes look great. The nail tech talked to me, unlike that one time I made the mistake of getting what turned out to be a shitty pedi at a spa in Mesquite, NV, where they didn’t even use soap in my tub — gross — and I was completely ignored. In fact, the lady today, it turns out, went to high school where my father-in-law used to teach. Just before she put on the polish, she put these lovely disposable pedicure slippers you see here on the left. These soles are 5mm thick, though I’m pretty sure the ones I wore were the 3mm ones.

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