So the Ancient Egyptians had a lunar calendar, meaning they divided the year up by obviously observable lunar months. Which as any modern, western, stuck-up, solar, scientific civilization will tell you just don’t work, ‘cause our year is solar, and an actual year is five days longer than a ‘lunar one.’
Unlike modern, western, stuck-up or other uptight civilizations, the Egyptians didn’t worry about it too much. They slapped five or six days on to the end of the year and made it into a holiday. The days which aren’t, or the days upon the year-—a big party week both civil and religious.
So I am taking the end of this year as the days that aren’t. I aren’t worrying about writing. I aren’t worrying about long term goals or what sort of writer I really am or aren’t. I am just living, and enjoying myself, and shopping and wrapping and crafting and making cookies and watching the winter afternoon sun set in a cloud white sky without getting too depressed about it.
(And there has been partying—my sister and husband surprised me with one of the best, er, thirtieth birthday parties ever. My curmudgeonly self was stunned by the number of friends from all eras of my life that had kindly taken time out of this the busiest season to celebrate my birthday with me. My mom even came down on the train to watch the kids! And then there was the Bowie Ball afterparty… but I’m getting off track)
So I’ll let my usual tidings of Christmakwanzakah drop this year and wish you all time to spend some days that aren’t, and enjoy the time that you have with the people you love.