A Lifetime Supply of Christmas

 Q: What has 17 actors, five settings, three writers and one plot?

A: 642 Hallmark Christmas movies.

I have a dirty little secret—one that, even as I admit to, I will vehemently over-excuse/deny. “Hi, I’m Sue, and I watch Hallmark Christmas Movies.” 

Not that I really watch them, of course, I just have them on in the background. Truly. Because some of them are so stupid that I find myself yelling at the TV: “Your son is a FULL GROWN MAN—back off, dude! He’ll figure it out!”

Like all good addicts in denial, I have a good friend (Hi Eileen!) who shares my tolerance—enabling is such a judgey word-- for such drivel.  One afternoon she unexpectedly found herself at home and we exchanged the following texts:

“I am watching Christmas shows! Novel idea!

Huh! What are they about?

“This one is about Christmas! And a gorgeous house! And potential love! And good hair!”

Do they drink a lot of hot chocolate? Do they have any festive treats? Community Holiday Events? Does anyone own a Christmas tree farm? Have amnesia? Time travel into Christmas Past? Discover a lost treasure/card/package/photo?

“Yes, yes, yes, no, no, no but there is an old friend from high school. He's very friendly, cute, helpful, musical --helps with the community school program.”

Of course he does! Old high school boyfriends are kryptonite. Or cat nip--can't remember the difference.

“Me thinks a little of both.”

Lol--such a heady cocktail!

"I'm hooked."

It's the addiction that dare not speak its name.

“Except us…This little girl is soo cute! This is a new (to me) movie. It's okay.

Which one? The kitten one?

"No the fireman one."

Oohh—they need to make a fireman AND kitten one! And the kittens should be Magic Kittens!

And so it goes. But if you want to watch something that is light and light hearted, celebratory and almost nobody ever dies… and if they have died in the past-- every one remembers them but only ever cries happy tears. Hallmark movies are silly and sappy and SAFE.

As addictions go, they are pretty benign. Embarrassing, but benign.

Secrets and Such

 Once upon a time ago—I was excellent at keeping secrets. Tell me a secret and ZIP! Into the vault it went, never to be disclosed.

Oh, sure—there are always those Doubting Thomas’ out there, who might suggest that the reason I was so stellar at secret keeping was that the moment you told me a secret or two I promptly forgot them. This is not at all true, and I could cite many such examples of my secret keeping prowess but—hello! Secrets! Gotta keep ‘em.

As time marches on, I have found that my ability to keep a secret seems to be inversely proportional to how fantastic the secret is.

For example, the day I was told my first grandson was on the way and was sworn to secrecy—I told my son how excited I was to tell Person A---and Person B—and also Persons C and D—and of course I’d HAVE to tell Person E, because come on, I’m only HUMAN. By the time the conversation was over I had also made the case for telling Person F and G—all while still being able to claim I was keeping a “secret.” A secret with exemptions. Because in addition to being an excellent secret keeper—I’m an even better negotiator.

When my second grandson was on the way, my negotiation tactics were seen coming and I was sworn to strict secrecy. I kept the secret so securely that even *I* forgot I’d made it—told Person D—of course I swore HER to secrecy—and then kept my secret sharing a secret from myself to the point that when Person D was officially told I congratulated myself for NOT telling this time---only to have Person D give me some serious side eye...

I have done a much better job of secret keeping this time around, for Grandson Number Three. Of course, it was TOTALLY NOT MY FAULT that when his parents called to tell me the happy secret and was out relaxing in the back yard with Person E and so of course I had my phone on speaker phone...

My Big Secret Number Three is due by the end of February and to prove how good I am at keeping secrets, I’m not going to spoil the surprise and tell you Lane’s name---HOORAY ME!