Day! Of! Nothing!

Let me tell you about my favorite holiday tradition: Day! Of! Nothing!

Day! Of! Nothing! started when my local niece was 6-ish. Her parents owned a bakery, so Thanksgiving through New Year’s Eve was wild for them. I would take Niece for a day. #DayOfNothing let me spend time w/my nearest niece, gave her a chance to enjoy all the holiday lights and music and bustle of our festive city, and gave her parents the relief of knowing Niece got some extra, unstructured pre-holiday fun even if they were busy.

On Day! Of! Nothing!, we did…

wait for it

… nothing! We’d wander shops and galleries, we’d maaaaaaaybe buy a Christmas gift (or supplies to make one) for her parents, but mostly we just enjoyed the seasonal decorations and the time together.

That then-6-yr-old is now in her 20s, and over the years, a handful of Day! Of! Nothing! traditions have formed:

1. We ALWAYS get peppermint hot chocolate.

2. We ALWAYS have lunch wherever she wants.

3. We ALWAYS end the day back at my house for grilled cheese and tomato soup.

The year our regular coffeehouse stopped serving peppermint hot chocolate, then-teenaged Niece was scandalized… until I pulled several candy canes from my bag, smashed ’em up, and we stirred them into our cups. AUNT COMES PREPARED.

I love Day! Of! Nothing! more than any other holiday tradition. It’s a peaceful day in a hectic time. And it’s one day a year when I get to spend time with my oldest niece, who is amazing.

I’ve mostly used past tense here. But last night, I thought “I wonder if Grown-up Niece has time for Day! Of! Nothing! this year?” And this morning, I woke up to this message:

So, if you wish you had a tradition, my advice is simple: Start one. It doesn’t have to be structured or freighted with meaning. The meaning develops within the tradition, even if in its first stages, the tradition is literally NOTHING.

 

 

holiday

Dennis: Someone zucchinied us!

me: It’s National Sneak A Zucchini Onto Your Neighbor’s Porch Day!

D: Really?

me:

[Image of handwritten note reading “Aug 8, HAPPY ‘Sneak some zucchini onto your neighbor’s porch day'”!]

This never happened/It is happening again

I made it and I’m not sorry. To see my more in-depth work on Twin Peaks, head to The A.V. Club, where I’m reviewing the revival weekly.

five stars

After three brutal, beautiful, dreadful, rewarding seasons, Review has come to an end. This tragedy cloaked in comedy is the best vehicle yet for Andy Daly, that master of cloaking anguish, corruption, and madness in affability. Jeffrey Blitz (of Spellbound fame) gives the direction an uncanny documentary realism that belies its absurdity. The unforgiving rhythm of Review, of Forrest’s rise and fall, hope and despair, lends it a depth that surpasses any comedy and most dramas. “Cryogenics, Lightning, Last Review” honors that depth.

If you ever doubt the importance of direction, cinematography, and framing to the tone of a narrative, just remember these two Review screenshots, seconds apart. A tiny tweak of perspective separates freedom from damnation, separates life from this simulacrum of life Forrest inhabits, separates NEVER REVIEWING ANYTHING EVER AGAIN from REVIEW ANYTHING. You can read my review of Review‘s uncompromisingly excellent series finale here.

spring surprise

The pair of boots I just bought under the influence of Nyquil will be a nice surprise for Healthy Me later this week, but wait ’til she gets the bag of springs.

listing, swinging

A key party is going to break out in this house listing any second.

rare as a unicorn

My favorite typo to date: unicornically and unironically are two different words, insofar as one is a word and the other is a delight.

handpicked

Posh citrus company, “navels handpicked” is not as appetizing a headline as you might imagine. This is why you hire editors.

if you don’t see

I’m well satisfied with the opening paragraph of my review of tonight’s American Horror Story: Roanoke.

text: “For the entire run of American Horror Story: Roanoke, I’ve pointed out its fictionalized images of real horrors visited upon black Americans, some for centuries and some more recent. And for the entire run of the installment, some readers have told me I’m imagining a significance that isn’t present in the show. In ‘Chapter 9,’ where a police officer asks a screaming black woman if she’s survived ‘a lynch mob,’ and where much of the footage comes from police body cams, if you don’t see that underlying theme, it’s because you’re determined not to see it.”

I’ll be donating my payment for tonight’s review to The ACLU, because we woke up to a true American nightmare, and I’ll do what I can to make it easier and make it end.

plague

uhhhhhhhhhhh, how you doing, NPR? You wanna talk about anything? You need a hug, maybe?