Bah humbug!

It sometimes surprises people that I am mostly immune to the holiday spirit. I like kids and think puppies are cute, so it's natural to assume that the combined adorableness of Christmas makes my heart go jiggedy-jig-jig.

But it doesn't. 

I don't remember believing in Santa Claus as a child. I boycott stores that start playing holiday tunes as of November 1. I cringe every time I see Rita MacNeil's Christmas special or Anne Murray's Christmas album being advertised on tv. It seems like I spend the entire month of December flinching...

What I absolutely cannot stomach is the forced enthusiasm of Christmas. It seems as if every Old Navy commercial, Pharmaprix display and Sears flyer is forcing the holiday spirit down your throat.

And filling you with a blind panic. What will I get Dad? Did I spend enough on Aunt Patricia? How will I get through Christmas dinner without choking Cousin Paul? Am I being jolly enough?

Basically, if you're not wearing a matching striped scarf and tuque and being tossed happily into a snowbank by a boyfriend with perfect teeth and a puffy jacket, you're a no-fun Debbie Downer. If you're not presenting your white-sweatered mother with a perfectly wrapped jewellery-sized silver box, then you're doing something wrong with your life.

(or so they want you to think so that you'll buy the matching winter gear and jewellery, right?)

I do believe that someone named Jesus lived, that he was a very wise man and that we should listen to some of the stuff he said. I believe that the story of Santa Claus teaches children to imagine worlds beyond this one. I believe that it's important to tell your loved ones how much they matter to you. I believe in buying important people meaningful gifts that remind them of the year we shared.

But I see none of that in the pushing, petty hordes flooding the stores, or in the flashing images that fill the gaps between interviews on the Hour, or in the tinny voices of talking Santa Claus dolls.

The thing is -- life goes on despite the year's biggest shopping purge. Relationships are still falling apart. Children are still crying over empty bellies. Friends are still dying. Mothers are still estranged. Life is a big enough challenge without every word that falls upon your ears - without every image that strikes your eye - making you feel that you have to be sick with happiness for the next 21 days.

I'm not going to end off by insisting you make this season meaningful and donate money to Dans la Rue or volunteer to feed the homeless. You already know how important those acts of generosity are.

This is my blog after all, so it's going to have to be about moi.

What I want to say is - thank you for reading my humble scribblings this past year. It's amazing to think that anyone is reading my crazy, yoga-induced ramblings about the end of the world. But you do. And I look forward to sharing more adventures with you in 2009.