it's that day again

Missed yesterday because I was in transit.  Sic transit gloria mundi, that is, Gloria gets sick on the subway every Monday, and I get sick of the obstacle course set by airline and customs officials every day. You have to run a horrible gauntlet  before you collapse on a plane with a glass of tomato juice, pretending it's a Bloody Mary, and a draft from the window wall, no blanket.  Times like that I wish I were rich and famous and could have my own private Lear jet whisk me away.  Normally I don't envy anyone, except writers who have just sold their latest offering while I am searching for a new market.  It's Christmas Day now and I am surfeited with consumerism, even before I am surfeited  with food, I don't shop much at home, preferring catalogue shopping and delivery, and not taking time to browse and be tempted in the stores.  So it's a culture shock for me to encounter the WEALTH of EXTRAVAGANT tschotschkes under my family's tree.  I guess that in my Other LIfe we were similarly blessed, for our time, but it's still a shock.  I'm not going to dwell on this, bur for all those who have lost someone they loved, let me just say that after 40 years, I still miss my husband.  Life, I was warned, would never be the same, and it never has been.  We go on, we go on.  Bless you all.