It's Christmas Time...

Here we are again, and I thought I'd be in a different place, literally and figuratively. I was supposed to be divorced by now, flush with a little settlement money, and my holidays were supposed to go like this: Thanksgiving was PARIS, by myself. Instead, I had my dad, brother and INLAWS over. 

Christmas was supposed to be in LONDON, taking in all the sights and sounds of a similar culture's Christmas traditions. Tea in Knightsbridge or at the Savoy, Christmas dinner at Claridge's or someplace equally as awesome. 

Then the great one: New Year's Eve. It was to be in Bruges, or Naples, or Iceland, or maybe even that hotel in Sweden that's made completely out of ice. Someplace new to welcome in the new year, someplace where being alone on New Year's Eve would be OK. Someplace I'd be alone but not lonely. A place with a different language, different customs, a different time zone. Anything not to be alone (again) on New Year's Eve here in the same old house doing the same old things. Every other New Year's Eve for the past 20 years was spent at the same cousins' party. I like these particular cousins, but I am tired of the same party, so for the past two years I've stayed home, watching Marx Brothers marathons (fun) or something else fun on TV. Me and the 18-year-old cat. Together, alone, welcoming in a brand new year full of promise.

But this year was supposed to be me welcoming in a whole new life! On another continent! Someplace groovy. Not here, in the same old house, with the same old cat, wishing for the same old things.

That old song, "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve" really gets me. At least it gets me this year. It's a melancholy tune, one that I usually like, but this year I can't bear to hear it. 

Here's to a whole new year. A whole new life, maybe? I know it's a couple of weeks off, but I'm girding myself now. Even Barry Manilow had a song about New Year's Eve: "It's just another New Year's Eve, another one like all the rest..." so maybe he stayed alone, too.

Time will tell.

Trans-what?

Today I had to have an ultrasound and a procedure called a transvaginal something. I have an ovarian cyst, which are common as I understand it, but my cyst (which my doctor has been watching for over a year now) suddenly changed. It went from being clear and round, which is typical, to being frondy-shaped and not clear, which is atypical. 

Frondy-shaped sometimes indicates that cancer or pre-cancerous cells are growing. If that's the case, they'll just take the whole damned ovary out and I'll be done with all the twinges and pain. If it's cancer, I guess they'll take out the ovary, radiate the area, and I'll be fine. 

I've decided not to panic. It's just that when the doctor says the word "CANCER"--my first response is to freak out. 

DO NOT PANIC! is my motto. It's harder to live than I thought. 

Tea for Four

I went to tea at The Drake today with Kathy, Bev and Shayna. It was lovely.

The Drake was decorated for Christmas with a huge tree in the lobby and a really cool gingerbread house with a train running through it. There were poinsettias and lights everywhere, and the fountain where the tearoom is was beautifully lit and everything was very festive.

The only problem was that it was very crowded and LOUD and we sat next to the harpist, which sucked because she played LOUD (all that plucking was really annoying) and then CAROLERS dressed in Victorian attire came around and it was altogether too much Christmas for me.

I mean, shut those carolers up! What a rotten gig, going from table to table, singing Christmas carols. Probably voice majors from any one of the many universities in the area; sucky gig for them! They kept coming back to our table and I wanted to throw money at them to make them go away, but I didn't.

Oh, bah humbug!