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The stressful days of Christmas

On stress tests - the kinds that ask, "Have you experienced any of the following in the last year?" - there are two bullets none of us can dodge: birthdays and Christmas.

On stress tests - the kinds that ask, "Have you experienced any of the following in the last year?" - there are two bullets none of us can dodge: birthdays and Christmas. It seems birthdays and Christmas are considered pretty stressful events by scientists who study stress and its triggers.

In Whistler, one might add open houses/public presentations/meaningless dog and pony shows to "explain" - a local colloquialism for obfuscate - exactly why it is we have a new and unique, if numbingly annual, Budget Crisis. This year's is transit. Gee. Imagine that. We're forced to build an industrial eyesore on reclaimed wetland at twice the price of anything we actually need so we can put on a meaningless show of greenwash for the Olympics, only to shockingly discover we have a hole in our municipal budget that can be seen from space.

Of course, we wouldn't have had a multi-million dollar overhang in transit if only people who had a choice to (a) avoid the village all together or (b) park for free, had willingly paid to park on the asphalt playing fields. But then, people are hesitant to go where there is no sign of life. Score another one for human nature.

It's beginning to look like the only solution to our budget woes is to scrap transit entirely, kill pay parking and make everyone drive their cars everywhere. Oh I can hear you bleeding hearts now. "What about the people who don't have cars?" Let 'em hitchhike.

I realize some of you may think of this as a retrograde step in the overall evolution of a greenish community, possibly even unsustainable. But it makes at least as much sense as being completely unwilling to even consider doing what so many other municipalities around the world have done - freeze or even, horrors, roll back salaries and/or reduce staff.

As an enlightened alternative, we can simply reduce or eliminate popular services enjoyed by, well, everyone who lives here. Excuse me? We've already done that. Really? Sorry, I've been out of town.

But you know what? I don't care. There's nothing I can do about it. There's nothing you can do about it. There's nothing we can do about it... at least until next November. Besides, Christmas is coming and I'm saving up my stress-fighting corpuscles for that.

At some level, all of us long for a simpler, old-timey, less stressful Christmas. You know, the ones painted by Currier and Ives or Cornelius Krieghoff. Lace up our skates, drink something rummy, roast a chestnut on an open fire and exchange small, tasteful gifts with family.

In other words, the ones Martha Stewart killed off for good. She might not have struck the first blow but she continues to pummel the lifeless corpse. Not even jail time slowed her down.

There are several good ways to deal with the stresses of Christmas. Quite a few of them involve alcohol, unsurprisingly. The rest involved fun-filled, active vacations... to Whistler, for example.

But first, you have to assess your Christmas stress profile. You can't fight what you don't know. As a public service, I've prepared the following questionnaire to help you prepare for the weeks ahead. Try to be honest; heck, if we start here it might spread to the hall.

 

1. My thoughts first turn to the coming Christmas on:

a) Boxing day, because of the great sales;

b) After I get my credit cards paid off from last Christmas, say about June;

c) When the first snow falls;

d) Just before the stores close on December 24th.

 

2. The mere thought of Christmas makes me:

a) Long for an old fashioned holiday surrounded by family and friends;

b) Want to rush to the attic and rummage through the boxes of colourful decorations;

c) Absent-mindedly hum along with the carols I hear everywhere;

d) Look forward to the cold, dark days of February.

 

3. My favorite Christmas dinner:

a) Involves rising before dawn and the words plucking and stuffing;

b) Would make a glutton blush;

c) Includes carefully reading instructions off a box;

d) Would be anything off the Rim Rock's menu, preferably starting with cocktails and dessert.

 

4. Christmas decorations at my house:

a) Imbue my family and guests with the holiday spirit before they even arrive;

b) Get better with age;

c) Involve a tree made from recycled 2 litre plastic soda bottles;

d) Are broken.

 

5. I quit believing in Santa Claus when:

a) This is a joke, right?

b) I reached my early teens;

c) I saw two Santas on the same street corner;

d) I ate the cookies myself and still got toys.

 

6. Christmas Eve will find me:

a) Leading carolers around the neighborhood, then back to my house for homemade eggnog and cookies;

b) At a late Mass if I can remember where the church is;

c) Up late wondering why there are leftover pieces for every toy I've just assembled;

d) Shakin' it at Tommy's.

 

7. The Christmas carol I'd prefer to never hear again would be:

a) I'm thinking, I'm thinking;

b) The Twelve Days of Christmas;

c) Which ever one goes pa-rum-pa-pum-pum over and over and over again;

d) Am I limited to one?

 

8. The best Christmas parties:

a) Are the ones I throw myself;

b) Involve lots of children and Santa;

c) Make at least passing reference to the true meaning of the season;

d) Result in blackmailable YouTube videos.

 

9. The worst Christmas I ever spent involved:

a) I don't understand the question;

b) Air travel, small children and Chicago's O'Hare airport;

c) Bad fish in Maui and a broken toilet;

d) A process server.

 

10. My favorite Christmas cookie is:

a) Gaily decorated gingerbread persons;

b) Plain shortbread;

c) President's Choice anything;

d) Already eaten.

 

Now, a's are worth four points, b's three, c's two and d's one. I'll give you a minute to add it up.

If you scored between 35 and 40, you are Martha Stewart and you're so stressed it's no wonder your friends avoid you this time of year. A score between 25 and 35 strongly suggests you're a hopeless romantic. Either start Prozac before your kids grow up and leave home or urge them to have grandchildren - immediately. If you scored between 15 and 25, you are probably pretty good at hiding your latent holiday tendencies but look out, one of these days you're going to come home from Costco with a plug in nativity scene and wonder what hit you. Better stock up on rum and eggnog. If you score lower than 15, you probably don't know who Martha Stewart is and your favorite holiday likely involves some pagan ritual, possibly human sacrifice. You'll do just fine.