HOME ALONE 2...OR 12

It starts with Baileys. That’s not something that says Christmas to me, but I was passing the liquor store and it just hit me that having a splash of something extra in my morning coffee might be a nice way to begin my home-alone holiday. No worries about it turning into some sad, prolonged binge. One drink is usually my limit. I like to feel in control, even if I’m on my own.

With coronavirus travel restrictions and personal views on what feels like the responsible thing to do (or not do), it may be that more of us will celebrate a home-alone Christmas. For me, it’s old hat. Pandemic or not, I’d likely be spending the day on my own. My single friends who don’t have family in the province used to invite me to join them for a buffet lunch at a casino or dinner at a Chinese restaurant, but neither option has ever appealed to me. I’ve had more than a dozen Christmases by myself so maybe I’ve learned a thing or two about getting through the holiday as a smaller scale—or no-scale—affair.

I’ve seen some glass half full tweets and heard chipper comments on radio ads saying, “Just because this year will be different doesn’t mean it won’t be as wonderful as ever.” Possible, for sure. To be honest though, these people worry me. They’re purporting to recognize that Christmas 2020 won’t be the same but, by golly, it will be just as jolly. As I gaze into my snow globe, I see people setting themselves up for disappointment. A Zoom hug is not the same. It won’t be as warm as when you hug Aunt Lucy in person or as creepy as doing so with Uncle Pete or as alarming as with Great Aunt Izzy whose body just keeps getting more and more frail.

By now, most of us know what Zoom does and doesn’t provide. (Hopefully Uncle Pete won’t pull a Jeffrey Toobin and will keep his willy in his pants!) Zoom (or Skype or Facetime or an old-fashioned phone call) will offer a nice connection, but at some point it will end. Everyone will disconnect and then you may be even more acutely aware that you’re at home alone, suddenly missing the gang all the more. A Christmas cry is okay. Just maybe set a timer for it. And maybe followup with a restorative holiday nap. Something about activating the tear ducts always makes me sleepy.

Tradition plays big on holidays, especially on Christmas. If you’re especially big on tradition, consider shelving some things this year. Be realistic. Why is something a tradition and will it have the same effect if you try to do it on your own? Making rum balls or shortbread cookies in the name of That’s-What-We-Always-Do isn’t quite as festive when you’re stuck with all the cleanup. (How did butter get on the ceiling?) Are you going to want to be eating turkey three times a day every day into the New Year? And it’s awfully tricky to splice together the family Facebook photo with everyone sporting their favorite—or matching?—ugly Christmas sweaters. Tricky for me, at least. (Truth: I’ve never had such a sweater. I draw the line at dollar store Santa ear muffs.)

If you do set aside a tradition, I’m a big believer in deciding on a replacement activity. Otherwise, you’re going to sit and fester. Oh, look. It’s 8:30. This is the time when we’d be singing carols on the neighbors’ porch. But it’s not happening. You’ll reach for a box of Kleenex and recover in time to wallow over what the nine o’clock tradition is. How tortuous!

If you’re super traditional about Christmas, maybe it’s better to simply plan a “nice day” or at least a diversion day. On Christmases past, I have devoted a huge chunk of the day to painting a room in my house or condo—a den, a bedroom, a bathroom. Nothing festive about it, but highly satisfying. My home looks better and I was productive on a day that could have been wasted on wallowing. Alas, there will be no painting this year as I’ve been living in a rental unit, my life in limbo since the start of lockdown in March.

I’ve often pulled out a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. It’s a perfect activity for me to do on my own. I don’t ever like others joining in. I worry about them jamming pieces in the wrong places. (Like I said, I’ve got some control issues.) Puzzles, as a solo endeavor, keep me calm. Working on one is a great mindfulness exercise for me as I tune out everything except searching for that one missing edge piece or cursing at the puzzle’s evil creator who decided to have so many blue sky pieces. (Why not a few clouds, at least?!)

I always have a couple of books on deck. One year, hours and hours passed as I read Meg Wolitzer’s The Interestings. It was glorious to have a large chunk of uninterrupted reading time. I got more into the setting and the plot because I wasn’t constantly jumping up off the sofa to do other tasks. This year I’ve got five books lined up: two that I bought, three from the library; one nonfiction, one young adult, one science fiction, two literary and one that I’m not really sure what it is (it was recommended during a Zoom author talk). If I’m not getting into one, I can always pick up another. I’ve got options which is great since I’m not sure what my mood will be.

My biggest home-alone tradition is to spend significant chunks of time out of my tiny condo. I like to head to a beach first thing after waking up. Morning walkers are especially cheerful so there’s a good chance that my greetings will be returned. Such nice people, I always end up thinking. Later, I go for a particularly long run, rain or shine. Usually I do it mid-afternoon as I picture people sacked out on sofas after too much tryptophan or one glass too many of the spiked eggnog that Uncle Pete, the ol’ rascal, spiked even more when no one was looking. The run feels especially good, knowing that so many people can’t fit one in today. I’m taking care of myself.

At some point, my stomach will want food. The Christmas dinner is a tradition I’m always glad not to experience. I’ve been a vegetarian for thirty-four years and, frankly, I don’t want to see an animal carved up. There have been years when I’ve roasted veggies, mashed up some potatoes and made cranberry sauce. On a couple of occasions, I even bought some sort of Tofurky product but I no longer see the point of a substitute for meat.

My best Christmas dinners have been when I’ve made something entirely different, following an intricate recipe that eats up a larger chunk of the day. One year, it was a deep dish pizza recipe that I hadn’t made in more than a decade. On another Christmas, I made lasagna, which always takes me a long time but keeps me very focused on the process. This year, I’m thinking of an Indian meal, trying out a new red lentil daal recipe I found months ago online, making baked samosas from a cookbook I’ve only used once and perhaps adding a palak paneer. Yes, there will be leftovers, but that’s a good thing. The spices in Indian food make things even more flavorful the next day.

I already have too many options for the 25^th. That’s a good thing. I will be busy. The day will be far more satisfying than just “surviving Christmas.” Will it be “as wonderful as ever”? Who knows? Who cares? This is not a year to be comparing with any other. I’m just going to enjoy the day and I hope you do, too.