Kudos to the carrot

Every year, right about this time I’d say, the speed on the turntable gets kicked up a notch and life just seems to start zipping by at chipmunk-voice speed. I get dizzy just writing those words.

I know why, of course. There is a not-so-subtle shift within the You are Here camp – right after the cheesy Halloween decorations disappear off store shelves – to taunt, tease and tempt me to produce Christmas. Not enjoy Christmas or understand Christmas or give Christmas. But produce it. Make a list. Make a budget. Make cookies. Make Christmas happen. And make it bigger and better than last year.

I am more aware of than I have ever been and more of the mind to refuse to comply, but it ain’t easy. It’s like trying to enjoy munching on carrot sticks on Carrot Day when all around you, at every turn, is a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies made with real butter and Ghirardelli chocolate. You really want to enjoy Carrot Day. You love carrots. They are good for you. They don’t contribute to heart disease or your waistline. They are a lovely shade of quiet orange. They are full of vitamins and are sweet and wet and crunchy. And if the people making all those dang cookies would just take their stupid cookie plates away until Cookie Day, for pity’s sake, it would be a lot easier to celebrate the Carrot.

The speed, though, is the problem that keeps us from holding up a hand and saying “Wait just a doggone minute!” Everything is happening so fast, we are numbed into a cookie-eating stupor from which we don’t emerge until January, when the cookies disappear and it becomes Treadmill Day.

I’d like to dial it all down to the speed of pharmaceutical commercials. You know the kind I mean. Those commercials for COPD and fibromyalgia and depression and rheumatoid arthritis, where everything happens at super slo mo speed and the person who needs to make a change can do it because cookies aren’t being shoved in her face at 60 miles per hour.

Don’t get me wrong. I like cookies. But if it’s carrot day, and not cookie day, then shouldn’t the cookies disappear so that we can celebrate our carrots?

Carrots, by the way, are not a metaphor for Baby Jesus. But our addiction to fast-moving plates of cookies is a metaphor for a lot of things. . .

I am taking a deep breath this morning. I am imagining eating a carrot at slow-motion speed, and savoring its crunchy sweetness.

Cookies are lovely, no doubt about it.

But it’s not cookie day. Not for me. . .

Author: Susan

This post has 5 Comments

  1. cher on November 17, 2009 at 4:37 am

    Well, its this way. Carrot day for me was a metaphor for Thanksgiving and if I don't get all my shopping done (I mean cookie making done)before carrot day, I will never brave the rush and the traffic after.

  2. Clair on November 19, 2009 at 11:39 pm

    I am all for slowing down-each year I try to limit my December activities and then get too busy anyway.

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  4. Sweet Basil on November 23, 2009 at 2:23 pm

    A hearty Amen. If more people started celebrating the gift and not the materialism, what wonderful changes would we see in our society?
    When our children were growing up, we couldn't afford to give them the copious amount of gifts other parents gave. Consequently, some of them equated that with self-worth.

  5. Susan Meissner on November 25, 2009 at 6:02 pm

    Even when we switched to giving our kids just three presents each (just like Baby Jesus – a gold one, a frankincense one, and myrrh one) it felt like I was diminishing their Chrsitmas not enhancing it. Took a couple years to realize less really is more!

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