coasting into PMD

the agitation that i feel right now is growing. with exactly one week until it arrives, my throat feels like closing up.

my final paper for class is due in less than 48 hours but i'm sitting writing posts here instead of writing about blah-ddey blah-blah in my research paper. the queen of procrastination, i am. flug-a-licious might also say the "queen of fellatio" but that's an entirely different post.

is my paper causing me stress? slightly, but not to the degree that others may face.

is it my work? to some degree everyone's workload is stretched but again, i can't relegate my current state of affliction to it.

no, my anxiety-stricken, panic attacks are coming -- signed, sealed and delivered with the same intended level of shock and awe g.w. promised to the iraqis way back in 2003. my bunker-buster bomb is my husband's family on pierogie-making-day (PMD).

welcome to my nightmare. seriously, i can't make this stuff up or else i would probably be writing episode guides for doctor phil if i could imagine the type of family dysfunction without first witnessing it in action.

this year will be different, perhaps even more fcuked up if possible. the ghost of christmas (and PMD) past will be joining us. this year the table will be set for nine but only eight will be there. an empty chair will be set out for my father-in-law who passed away this spring after a valiant fight with cancer.

i know that nothing we say or do this PMD or filet o'dinner will be the same. with arms holding tight to the past, i know this year will be the most difficult. so many changes have happened since last year's PMD -- the births, the deaths -- and the world in its own insulated and heartless way, decided to keep pushing forward, keep spinning, no matter how much we might have wanted the world to stop.

one of my favorite sayings come from tony kushner's angels in america play: "the world only spins forward. let the great work begin." and the only way to do that is to stop chewing on and finally swallow, the events of past.