The URRC is dominated by those who are brusque and unapologetic, which surely I can be.  Why did I fail so miserably yesterday at the Rectangle? As Nic was bandaging my adjumma-inflicted wounds (bottle bruises and cardboard contusions), she told me that the way to survive Thursday morning URRC is with stealth and intelligence.  Since these are traits I do not often possess, it has been agreed that I will stick to the stinky food disposal.

A week from now, my wounds will be healed.  A month from now will be Nic’s last appearance at the Rectangle to avoid entanglement with the adjummas.  Six weeks from now, we’ll be on a beach in Thailand.  Two months from now, we’ll know where Nic has been accepted for PhD study in psych.  Two and a half months from now, we’ll know where we’re going to be spending the next five to six years.  Five months from now, we’ll be back on US and I’ll be watching the Giants beat the Brewers at Miller Field.

It is at this time of year that many people look back, saying to themselves, “I cannot believe it’s Christmas again already.”  And they look at their kids and how much they’ve grown and changed and become more lithe; they look at how much they themselves have grown (outward and downward), changed, and gotten to be a little more crotchety.  Some people face these things with grace.  Many others face their fear of time’s rapid passage armed with reminiscences, attempting to rejuvenate their spirits with a sentimentalism for agility of mind, body and spirit.

Which is it for me?  What will it be for me when I have kids?  Admittedly, I approach the holidays with a little bit of grace and a little bit more of booze and food (certainly, this leaves me longing for the agility to move or roll myself off the couch).  If I can find a little more balance during this time of year (and I never have), the sentiments can be dealt with in a much more level-headed manner.

This year, though, in spite of all the talk in this household about establishing holiday traditions for the future little Holmbergs, I find myself in a unique position.  On the cusp of great changes (travel and a new home), at the beginning of transition (marriage, joblessness, homelessness), nearly closing the book on four and a half years in Korea (financial security and flush with kimchi), the implications of what has transpired and what is yet to emerge is vast.  A winter solstice lunar eclipse in that the rarity of this particular (or similar) combination of circumstances may never occur again in my lifetime.  The astronomy is either fortuitous or foreboding, but surely only coincidental.  What will I make of it?