Awoke to the smell of cooking bacon…. Dad fried up what looked to be an entire pig in celebration of my sleeping over.

We had a leisurely morning, drinking coffee and shooting the shit before I had to pack up and head out back to the house to feed the cats and then off to my mom’s apartment.

Mom had the usual spread out… cookies, cheeses, turkey, ham, schmears and mountain of homemade lavash. (a flat cracker-type bread, encrusted with seeds).

The afternoon saw a series of visitors… My uncle, normally abrasive and ill-mannered, was friendly and behaved like someone who was actually family.

Mary, (who’s mother’s funeral I went to the other night), also showed up.

Gift exchange was good… I scored a kitty-cat clock (the kind with the moving tail and eyes) – and a fireplace set (too victorian and fussy for our tastes, so it will be going back and exchanged for a simpler model).

So mom doesn’t quite get my tastes in interior drek… a forgivable error.. A bigger stretch is understanding what happened that evening..

While outside talking on the cell phone with Kevin, my ex pulled up and jumped out of an SUV with some other guy and a little creature resembling a muppet.

What… The…. Fuck….

I ended it with Shane 5 years ago. It was, by far, the most unsuccessful and unhealthy relationship I’ve ever endured.

It’s interesting to note that Shane is the only ex of mine that I don’t maintain regular, friendly contact with.

It’s ironic to note that Shane and my mother never stopped being “buddies”.

I don’t mind so much that they’re shopping buddies.. Shane gives my mother the attention which I, according to her, withhold so selfishly.

Not having a grasp on how I like to decorate my home is one thing… not having the god-given common sense not to invite your son’s loathed ex over for Chirstmas day? – well..

I have to write it off to menopause , paxil and a genuine absence of thought… because if I didn’t it would imply a vicious flavor of mind-game playing that I would not tolerate from anyone…

Quite out of character for me, I raided my mother’s alcohol stash. (I’ve had a genetic resonant gift for finding where she hides the hard stuff since I was 18).

Jack Daniels numbed my senses as the ex and his new boyfriend cooed over one another and their little dog.

I was cordial to a fault… and out stayed them – enjoying Mary’s company when not being upstaged by the smoldering young bear couple.

I slugged down some water to sober up and headed home.

Christmas, the holiday I remember as a child, is dead.

This is not a blog.. it’s a requiem.