Thanksgiving Wubble

There are Christmas trees and Christmas lights adorning my neighborhood already. It is November 18th and Christmas music is on the radio, children are praying for snow days, and people are bragging about already having all of their holiday gifts purchased and wrapped. (Overacheiver-much??)

And I sit in this space of wanting to join them.
Here I come...
full blaze ahead...
bring on the snow...
the hot chocolate...
the red and green decor!

The anticipation behind picking the perfect Christmas tree and enjoying it's splendor before the inevitable let-down of the Christmas tree removal, after which, the (then dying) tree is yours- forever.
As I sat with friends and discussed this rush for All!! Things!! Christmas!!, we all shook our heads in a collective sigh of exasperation.

Because I also sit in this place of enjoying the pumpkins I recently painted a chalky-white and have displayed in my living room. The new wreath I made out of Dollar Tree items which I think is a winner, and the expectant feeling Fall ushers in. -and I am not the only one hanging on to Fall for dear life.

Hot to cold days (were did the mild weather go?), pumpkin lattes, and falling leafs- which my nine (!) year old loves to rake (Um, how do I have a nine year old and by what good grace is it that he thinks of raking as a "fun hobby"?).
The signs of Fall are arguably the very best of the year (tis my favorite season!), and it is rushed through by some overbearing people who are wearing Santa hats and UGGS already- um, we had exactly zero snowflakes thus far this season people, Santa hats and UGG boots are unacceptable before the first snow- ask Charlie Brown!!!

These insensitive people forgoing the Great Thanksgiving Bird are by and large: the entire American population.

And all of this makes me feel a little loopy.
Like celebrating Thanksgiving and Christmas -Thanksmas!- or like vastly ignoring Thanksgiving altogether (which, let's be honest, is what most Americans do as we "Black Friday" shop beginning 5pm on Thursday). It is reduced to Christgivemas: Thanksgiving, sandwiched by all things Christmas.

So it is no wonder that when my Nicolette and I spook on the phone a week ago, I told her I felt my life was like a Wubble-Bubble. Or, better written, it was as though I were inside the Wubble.
The stability is shaken: rendered nonexistent.
The walls push away from you offering no support, and all the while, you are looking out into a world through a haze of multi-colored spills being manipulated with every move of the life they encase: the life inside the Wubble.

https://www.pinterest.com/butlerbrenda24/wubble-bubble-set/

https://makeameme.org/meme/popped-a-wubble

Let me say this: I have zero interest in the Wubble, both as a gift for my sons, and the mysterious form I have found encasing my person.

My mind, my thoughts, my marriage, my interactions with others... and self... and God, they all lay victim to the heave and ho of the Wubble.

I suppose this can all be reduced to me feeling unstable and probably depressed.
Honest, though, I am not (the latter), but the former...? Maybe? 

A few weeks ago I flipped out on Big Strong Man while he was away (I sent him), visiting a friend (his very best), on a getaway I encouraged. They messed up all my plans by being boring (opinion: mine), and I grumbled and threw a fit and eventually B.S.M. came home early and I did not even thank him because the Wubble distracted me.

...I sent him on this getaway...
...I poured hopes and energy into it...
and yet
...he should have...(I'll just stop right there)
and
...well, I didn't ask him to come home early, so...

And of course there is this portion of me which is just ashamed because I sometimes suck at letting other people be themselves and cheerleading them on when I am in a bad mood.

Nicolette agreed to my Wubble analogy.
She was/is/will be there.
Maybe you understand it too because you can't make sense of this moment.
However, contrary to the Wubble rhetoric:

It looks like a bubble!!

moves like a bubble!! 

but won't pop like a bubble!!!

Amazon reviews call it a POS and call the bluff:
The Wubble does not last.
It pops...likely within 24 hours*.

And this, too, my friends, this Wubble-moment in life, it will pop as well.
It will pop and there may be some plastic particles found on the wall and under the couch (the proverbial sh*t hitting the fan), but you will clean it up and you will move beyond this.
Beyond the Wubble.

11. I wrote the word Wubble 11 12 blazing times.
Merry Thanksgiving, everyone!!!