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Hoots threw it down last night as I caroused about the community watching and listening. People in Christmas sweaters reveled about, one woman had some moonshine (I do not lie. And I don’t know her name. I avoided the white lightning as I’m wont to do) and Outlaw Christmas songs played on various jukeboxes.

CNN, Always Creating Lovely Christmas Memories

I talked to an old acquaintance about my new job. In Hoots, people talk about politics more than you would think and it’s usually pretty astute. We talked about my boss which I’ve done pretty much nonstop in Hoots Proper for the past month which should escalate quite a bit in the coming month, about economic development and health reform interspersed with hugs, Christmas wishes and Tom Jones songs because nothing says Christmas like “What’s Up, Pussycat.”

Christmas is lean this year for many Hootsvillians including yours truly, but I decided a few days ago to get the hell over it. It’s not about how many gifts you can buy, but what you can give year round.  I cooked Vibinc’s famous stuffin’ muffins which came out pretty good although the next time I make them, I will make them more bite-sized. The dressing muffins were moist and tasty although they definitely needed more sage. And they were the size of Toledo, OH.  Dressing gut bombs but astonishingly good.

I shopped prior to the revelry and noticed most stores were not nearly as crowded as I thought they might be. Of course, everyone I know is as broke as a cabbage. I didn’t go to Wal Mart because of fear of having my picture taken and because I genuinely don’t like shopping at Wally World.

Squirrel Queen is a wrapping ninja. I tend to be like my dad, who would wait until the last minute to put his gifts to the family in bags that were left over that my mother didn’t need. Wrapping Fail is my middle name during the Christmas holidays.

OH in Hoots last night:

• “I only get to go to juke joints during Christmas. I might need to change this and do it all year round. This is fun!” ~ from a lovely woman in a Frosty the Snowman sweater.
• PLAY ROBERT EARL KEEN’S “MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE FAMILY!!!!” before I even joined in with “… a box of tampons and some Marlboooooro Lights!!” We sang loud and proud, campers.
• “I don’t want to talk about politics anymore. I want to talk about my favorite cheese.” ~ from an older man who had apparently imbibed in the contraband white lightening.
• “Charles Dickens’ and all of his ghost talk makes me want to go watch Elf. Screw the Ghost of Christmas’ past. If I wanted to go back into therapy, I would. “
• “What the hell, we never had Egg Nog at Christmas, we just had milk and cookies. Dad never wanted to drive to Fulton for the Nog part.” ~ Subtext: Hoots is a dry county. You have to give your tax money to Kentucky if you want any hooch.
• “My daughter is very worried about Santa Claus breaking into the house. And she made me get rid of the Elf on the Shelf. She’s concerned about our safety and elves and old fat dudes are not her cup of tea.”

Hoots, of course, is a state of mind, but it’s not a bad one. You guys should come here sometimes and just drench yourself in it. You might just like it.