Hello HELLO. Happy New Year and all of it!! There have been so many things that have been happening...where to start? At the beginning I suppose.

So, the beginning…When I last left off I was in the midst of holiday madness, trying to accept with grace the shift in my holiday responsibilities from pretty much nothing to a whole hell of a lot. Or as I have chosen to start referring to it as: from receiver to giver.
Now that the holiday season is over and I have fully tried out my "embrace the hard way" approach, I'd have to say that it was very, very helpful.

In a very surprising turn of events, this mindset helped me with a holiday issue that had been plaguing my season for a while now. Every Christmas I go back to good ol' Texas with visions of crisp, clear air with a hint of firewood and sage, mugs full of cocoa by the fire, a toasty couch to lounge on with all the cable and snacks I could ever consume, giant hugs from gorgeous family and friends that have only managed to get more gorgeous and interesting over the past year, and, of course, a tidy, respectable mountain of gifts. There's also a Maine Coon cat in there somewhere. All in all, a very J. Crew Christmas.

Call me ridiculous. Go ahead. But that's what I see when I think of home for the holidays.

Let me interrupt here to interject a thought that is somewhat relevent. A phenomenon that has always fascinated me was the syndrome that most always accompanies people with eating disorders: those that are afflicted with a severely distorted self-image. These poor people look in the mirror and, although they weigh somewhere in the neighborhood of 3 and a half pounds, they see is a giant walrus staring back at them, condemning their inability to keep control of their disgusting eating habits.
(On a sidenote: The flip side is even more intriguing. You know, those metric ton ladies who are most often seen running around the set of Jerry Springer in a hot, little Fredrick's of Hollywood number. They're almost always accompanied by an entourage of around 11 illegitamate children.)

Well, in case you were wondering the point of that digression, I'd like to say that I too may have been a victim of a distorted self-image... Every year, no matter how convinced I am of the J. Crew-iness awaiting me, from the moment I step off the plane, slowly but surely, my ass is kicked back into the outlet store that is my reality.

The first misconception that comes to my attention is of course the lack of clean, crisp air. Houston is one of the most polluted and humid cities in America. One step out of the airport and my hair is like that damn Garnier commercial and my adorable mitten/hat/scarf set is about as useless as my bathing suit is in February. Of course I brush this disappointment off. "Who needs a white Christmas!!??! Or even a seasonably cool one!!? Not me! No sir. It's good to have some warm gulf air for a change."

My other dreams begin to meet the same fate. There doesn't seem to be one that is completely safe. I do get my mug of cocoa, but sans fireplace. Also, it's a little hard to get that cozy feeling when your father has confined you to the kitchen for fear of soiling the precious white carpet. Heaven forbid.
My couch is there, but the toasty is not. Somehow, by some miracle of modern day science, my father has figured out a way to defy the warmth outside and maintain a deceivingly authentic arctic chill inside...without air-conditioning. How does he work such magic? I think it may have to do with the over-abundance of concrete, marble, and glass. Tré modérne, yes. But again, not conducive to holiday-ness.

As for the snacks...i will say the holidays are a time of abundance in the Porto pantry, what with all the gift basket, but I can only consume so much summer sausage, sugared pecans, and maple candies. I need snacks of substance. Where, I ask, are the Hot Pockets® and the Pizza Rolls®?
And so much for cable. TBS is not cable. Of course I could watch a movie, but considering the only ones in the house are about either the Civil War, Teddy Roosevelt, big game hunting in North America, or some ridiculous combination of the three, I'd have to say there's slim pickings. Maybe I'm being a brat here, but I would venture to say that I'm really not.

And it is at this point that the "I HATE IT HERE" sentiment starts to creep in. Cable and snacks is where I draw the line. Why else would I come home? In the face of my misconceptions and self-delusions, I'm forced to lash out and surrender to the annual sulk-a-thon.

They say that familiarity breeds contempt. I say yes, of course. But reintroduction to a familiarity that you've put in a good year of effort to distort brews quite a different, and inherently more toxic strain of contempt.

Moving on to the family. At this point I am quickly losing my optimism, but perhaps it could all be restored!

But of course, no. It was saddening and almost horrifying at times. Even cousins, who I, for some unknown reason, had looked forward to talking to about their adorable high school adventures, were no comfort. Instead they amounted to average angst-ridden teenagers. But at this point it washed over me with not so much as a raised eyebrow. Why not? I don't have cocoa or a fire or even a goddamn Fair Isle sweater to speak of! Why would anything go right?!

I will say though KUDOS to my tidy, respectable mountain of gifts. There I cannot complain. My family can dole out the cash. Effort, thoughtfulness, and originality really do not mean more to me than some green. It, after all, looks good on everyone. And I have to say money is a wonderful gift. It is the ultimate way to not impose your tastes on your recipient.

And least I forget, of course my beautiful Maine Coon is nothing but a mangy, old beast of a cat named Gypsy that would claw your eyes out as soon as look at you.

Now. After all this complaining, one would think that I have once again returned from the holidays, utterly spent and aghast at a reality that was hell bent on dashing my hopes. Years past of course that was the case. But this year was different. I accepted that things are never as you'd like them.

As I embarked on my journey home not only was I not holding onto any false ideals, but also was not dreading some sort of monster. It would be what it would be. My family may be insane, my house maybe cold and wholly unwelcoming, and there may not be any cozy moments by the fire with cocoa, but that's that.

It amazing when you just accept that certain experiences are what they are. Fighting things takes so much energy and blocks you almost entirely from learning anything. I used to return to NY exhausted from what was supposed to be a vacation in the lowest of moods, feeling hopless and that the universe was conspiring against me.

How absolutely desolate.

But no longer!

I must admit, even accepted for what it is, it's still sad and a little tiring, but at least I didn't rexperience the shock of it all. Perhaps it gets easier.

So that leads me to my New Year's Resolution. My New Year's Resolution is always the same; in as much is that it is 'to try'. This year it's 'to try to let go and let things be'...as well as 'to try to floss regularly'...