Winter Solstice Ramblings
Here it is, December 20th, which
is, according to the Mayan calendar, the day before the end of the world.
I’d love to use the “end of
the world” theory during tonight’s seasonal shift at Target. “Come on, these
sweaters don’t need to be folded; no one will be here to buy them tomorrow.” If
I try that theory on my supervisor, end of the world or not, I won’t be around for tomorrow’s shift.
It’s a shame how this year
the Winter Solstice receives a bum rap. Is it a length issue? Naw, the Winter Solstice
is always the shortest day of the year. I find it hard to believe after December
21st, the days grow longer, probably because they also grow colder. No, the
pesky Mayan calendar blames 2012’s Winter Solstice for being the end of the
world.
How rude.
Come on, everyone loves the Winter
Solstice. The Christian Church loved the Winter Solstice to the point they made
sure they placed Christmas on the Roman Winter Solstice, which, according to 45BC’s
Julian calendar, fell on December 25th. The Romans weren’t happy
with merely conquering irritated “pagan” tribes and angry barbarians; they
wanted to conquer the calendar. So what if the ignorant pagans had designed
monuments which celebrated the Winter Solstice on December 21 or 22. The Romans
dismissed the problem. They had a tendency to dismiss, eh?
Gee, think it’s a
coincidence Christmas is on December 25 and a week later the New Year begins?
Nope. Even back then they wanted an excuse to kick back for a week.
The reality is, before the
Christians stole the Winter Solstice’s short thunder, Northern European people
partied hard. The Winter Solstice sounded the survival alarm. No more fooling around! Peasants feared
their livestock wouldn’t survive the grueling weather; they slaughtered the
animals to make sure the family survived the grueling weather. Back in the day
this was not a good time to be a vegetarian. The wine had fermented, that is if
a peasant could afford wine. The Winter Solstice encouraged people to throw a
party celebrating life. Once the party ended, the frightened masses hunkered
down to pray they survived the harsh winter months.
As I said, ancient monuments
monitor the Winter Solstice. The magnificent Newgrange tomb in Ireland’s Boyne
Valley registers the Winter Solstice sunrise. If you can’t attend the Winter Solstice
in person, the tour guides will recreate the event for you. The event is a
damned impressive experience. In Salisbury, England, Stonehenge records the Winter
Solstice sunset. I bet the Druids had ways of telling each other about each
event using their mystical hotline. “Ranith, Winter Solstice is a go. I repeat,
Winter Solstice is a go.”
“Roger that, Holly. I’ll let
you know when we reach Winter Solstice’s end.”
The Winter Solstice is
celebrated across the world, from Africa to China. This is a serious
multi-cultural event. People celebrate the shortest day of the year knowing the
days now become longer. There’s hope.
I won’t mention how the
“Christmas” tree, the “Yule” log, mistletoe, ivy and pine greens are holdouts
from well before Christianity borrowed the Winter Solstice. Oh wait, I did
mention them.
Hey, why not? Regarding the potent
Winter Solstice, it’s always good to hedge the bets and embrace the ancient
customs. Certain customs remain viable for a reason. Even in this modern time
of electricity and seemingly endless power, deep inside everyone a primordial
speck celebrates when the days grow longer. The Sun has escaped from the Black
God to grow stronger again. The year’s Spring crops will grow. Basic and
beautiful.
I refuse to believe the
world will end on such a celebrated day. The Druids won’t let it happen. In
fact, there’s probably a rumble between the Mayans and the Druids taking place
to make sure there’s no misunderstanding.
No matter how you celebrate
the season, hope it’s a happy one!
Which leads me to my latest
novel “Cupid Knows Best”. Yep, I succumbed. The novel contains a Christmas
story.
Here is the excerpt!
BLURB:
When
it comes to his professional life, photographer Carl Conrad is at the top of
his game. He molds impressionable minds at university by day and jets off to
Paris for gallery showings on long weekends. Unfortunately, he pays for it with
his disastrous personal life: Carl kicked his boyfriend to the curb after one
too many punches, so now it's just him and his
hamsters, one of which he suspects may be a space alien.
Then
Cupid takes pity on Carl and hits him where it hurts. It takes Carl all of
three seconds to fall head over heels in lust with set design student Marcelino
Moya, despite the man’s questionable—okay, deplorable—fashion sense. Convincing
Marcelino to give him a chance is the hard part, but Carl is up for the
challenge, pun definitely intended.
Marcelino
plays hard to get, but he isn't immune to Carl's charms. Carl talks him around to dinner, dating, and
eventually moving in. There's just one tiny word
standing between Carl and perfect happiness. Why won't Marcelino say the “L” word?
EXCERPT:
I massaged Marcel’s thigh and kissed
his forehead. “You created a wonderful party, lover.”
“You really did, Marcelino. Here’s
to the return of playful gatherings. You inspire me to drag my sad ass out of
my doldrums and throw a private party at the gallery.” Hindy turned and kissed
Tim’s cheek. “What am I saying? My fair Tim drags me out in quite an efficient
manner.”
Tim fluttered and blushed. “See, I’m
stronger than I look.” They kissed in hotter commitment.
How cute. Tim recovered from his
near swoon and relaxed back. His fingers curled in Hindy’s hair. I adored how
Tim had succumbed to Hindy’s elegant worship.
After he recovered, Tim pointed at
our tree. “Marcelino, the tree is delightful. I’ve been meaning to say
something all evening.”
“Thanks. When Carl told me he never
bothered with a tree anymore, I straightened him, well, you know what I mean,
out on the problem. This holiday fiend needs a tree to celebrate the festive
season.”
“Of course clever Marcel created our
flamboyant rainbow tree.” My witty planner had purchased simple glass ornaments
in rainbow colors and artfully arranged them in zigzag waves across the blue
spruce. The compact tree’s rounded bulk dominated the room’s right window
corner. “I love the sight. I never realized how I missed having a tree.” I
stood and bowed toward my guests. “Anyone want more wine?”
Agreements filled the air. I brought
an open bottle of pinot grigio and a bottle of Malbec to the coffee table.
“Have fun.”
Hindy huffed in annoyance.
“Marcelino, when will you properly train this rude beast?”
“Carl isn’t too bad. He’s just a
little undomesticated.”
I returned to my cuddle against
Marcel. “Why should I bother? You look after me so well I feel content to drift
along.”
“That’s not true. I noticed someone
has learned how to empty the dishwasher, and no lie, Carl even uses the vacuum
cleaner.”
“What a miracle! Dearest, I salute
you for transforming Carl.”
“Yeah, right.” I grinned and winked
at Cupid, who sat alongside the bewinged Cher doll that passed for our tree’s
angel. Yeah, I had started making the domestic effort for my man.
Hindy patted Tim’s knee. His
eyebrows performed their usual hairline tango. “Tim, trust me, you are lucky to
have found a tidy man. I’ve seen this place when—”
“Stop spreading tales.” I rolled my eyes.
“Here’s the deal. Four months ago, Hindy dropped by one evening after Martin
and I had conducted a stellar battle over him slapping me. The kitchen table’s
contents were sprawled across the floor. During the argument, we tossed our
food-filled plates like crazy people. Then we started on the glassware.”
“Too bad you didn’t crack a plate
over his evil head.” Marcel scowled and sipped his wine. “Or better yet a
grease-filled frying pan.”
“The temptation flirted with me.”
“I wish temptation had flirted you
into real action. Enough, enough, I don’t want to talk about the odious man.
Tonight I want to celebrate the season with true friends.” Marcel slithered
from his sprawl and flicked on the TV. He clicked around until he laughed in
merriment. “There it is. Bridget told me about this festive channel.”
Hindy sputtered in disbelief. “How
remarkable. They actually broadcast a film of a burning Yule log? Hilarious.”
“A Yule log and traditional
Christmas carols. How fun.” Tim raised his glass in glee before he poured
Malbec. Damn, his shaky aim almost baptized my floor in dark-red goodness.
Marcel switched on the tree lights.
The sparkly glow filled the room.
To my relief, Tim’s wineglass landed
on the table before he applauded the festive light show. He seemed toasted
enough to forget he held a glass in his hands. “Why did you turn off the lights
during the party?”
“I don’t want to burn the living
tree’s branches.” Marcel pointed to the large copper bucket holding the tree
upright. “See, the spruce has a root ball. We’re donating the merry little tree
to whatever city park needs trees. We can visit the spruce like proud parents.”
Hindy’s knowing stare met mine. “We
are blessed old farts.”
“I agree.” I raised my glass for a
communal toast. Our glasses clinked together without breaking anything although
Tim almost fell off the couch. When it came to drinking, the slim blond was a
lightweight.
Marcel switched off the room lights
and returned to my side. He ruffled my hair. I wrapped my arm around his waist
and pulled him close for a satisfied kiss.
We basked in the rainbow tree’s glow
while watching the televised Yule log and listening to classic holiday tunes.
The cozy scenario made sense. Tim and Hindy looked as settled as any old couple
resting on a park bench, well, that is if the old couple wore black leather,
black seersucker, or red-and-green plaid wool trousers. They sat holding hands
and smiling for no good reason.
A gasp brushed my cheek. Marcel
scrambled to his feet and pointed in fine dramatic style. I managed not to drop
my wine. “Look, how cool, it’s snowing!” The pale light seeping through the
right window framed his broad shoulders.
I admired his proud silhouette. Tim
and Hindy stood to occupy the tall front left window. I stood and joined
Marcel. There, a couple graced each window. Fitting. Outside the large flakes
filtered down in indolent sloth. The streetlights illuminated their stately
descent through the naked tree branches. This too made magical sense. I hugged
Marcel close and kissed his temple.
Hindy shook his head in dismay. “I
fear it’s time to find a cab.”
As he laughed, Marcel leaned over
and prodded Hindy’s shoulder. “Why? You can use the spare bedroom.”
“Stay the night?”
“Look, we have plenty of treats and
wine. I say let’s sit, eat, drink, and continue the celebration.” Marcel raised
his glass into the air.
Tim clapped in glee. “I’m off
tomorrow. I say yes.”
Hindy also lifted his glass into the
air. “How wise. Why suffer winter’s bite? Jezebel loves her food dispenser, so
no worries.”
Familiar thumping made me laugh.
“Spazz wants to join the party.”
“Can I meet him in person?”
“Come on, Tim, I’ll let you hold his
travel ball.”
Tim cooed in delight. Spazz entered
his travel ball and danced in glee. My nutty hamster hated being left out of
the action. Einstein stirred and started roaming through the colorful tube
tangle. “Wow, Einstein is awake. These guys agree. They want to party. Go
ahead, set Spazz on the floor.”
The merry Spazz rolled into the
living room. He managed to bounce against Hindy’s and Marcel’s feet before he
rolled back into the spare bedroom. I swear that hamster owned superior taste.
No wonder, he was an alien.
We settled back into our comfortable
cuddles. Marcel winked and kissed my cheek.
This time Hindy raised his wineglass
into the air. The Yule log’s flames reflected off the glass. “My dear Tim, love
for a pet is a sign of a good man. If you move in with me, will you bring along
any pets? As you know, my ancient Jezebel is a sweetie, but she isn’t much on
furry intruders. She does approval of you, which is enough for me.” Hindy set
down his wineglass and stroked Tim’s long fine hair.
Marcel gasped. He gripped my
shoulder until my muscles whimpered for release.
Tim almost hyperventilated. “Hindy,
is this an offer?”
My friend flicked his pale left hand
flicked through the air in imperial dismissal. “I planned to wait, but since
our dear friends have created such a lovely romantic environment for us, I need
to ask you tonight. After all, their love brought us together. Wise of them.”
Hindy turned and winked at us before he grasped Tim’s hands. He kissed Tim’s
knuckles and sighed in adoration. “Care to move in with me, sweetie darling?
Care to be my much-needed breath of fresh air and keep dragging me from my
shell?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Their hug created a
devoted tangle of black and blond hair.
Marcel’s triumphant smile tried to
blind me. I squeezed him close. “Congratulations, matchmaker.”
A brief wing flutter vanished into
the sparkling snow. Cupid, you are da
man.
Thanks for reading!
