Sunday, December 25, 2016

December 25, 2016

Dear Diary,

Today is Christmas Day, and I suppose it should have been a wonderful, hopeful kind of day, with cold, fresh snow on the ground outside and warm, loving family inside.  All things considered, it has been a good, but very difficult day for me.  I did my best to hide my pain from the rest of the family.

Of course the festivities began late last night with Chel and her husband bringing over my adorable little half-Jew grandchild for dinner and to prepare for Santa's visit. All through the day, little half-Jew was asking questions about Santa, Christmas Day, and what kind of presents would be under the tree the next morning.  It was one of those wonderful moments when grandma gets to bond with her half-Jew grandchild, so I sat her on me knee in the armchair next to the fireplace and told her the story of Christmas and how the Jews killed Jesus.  You don't get many chances to make memories like that, so I suppose I should be grateful.

Circumstances being what they are, we didn't make a big hoo-hah out of dinner last night.  Just the immediate family, a few friends, and of course, Dr. Morell, who said that from the looks of things, I was making good progress, although I should probably dial back on the Xanax because the local pharmacy had called his office about how many refills I should be getting every week.  Dr. Morell said he was pleased to see me up and about (to be honest, dear diary, I'd spent about a week after the you-know-what hiding under the covers and refusing to take a shower) and that I'd be out there, in strutting my new Gore-Tex pants suit that Bill bought me for Christmas (Who am I kidding, diary -- Bill probably got it wholesale from one of his Bubba buddies that owed him a favor).

Speaking of gifts, since I haven't left the house, I've had to do all my shopping from home this year.  Did you know you can now just look at a screen, point to something, buy it with a credit card and have it delivered to your home? As Chel likes to say, "OMG" -- I don't know how it works, but all last week I had one of my servants assistants come up to my room and help me with my Christmas shopping.  Cute little thing she was, too, with long, tapered fingers and just the most adorable smile. A small, cinched waist and just the firmest physique in a short, tight skirt that tastefully showed off her smooth, toned legs.  She really knew her way around this shopping thing and generously spent at least four very intensive hours with me.  Then we did some shopping.  Then I took a shower.

Just like Santa, I had to cross a lot of people off my list this year, owing to the fact that there were lots more people who were naughty instead of nice. Podesta, Comey and Abedin were the first to go, for obvious reasons.  I told everyone else that Huma's beard, Anthony, and Debbie Wasserman-Schultz were both off the list because they weren't Christians and probably wouldn't notice, anyway.  I used to send really nice bribes gifts to all my friends at CNN, ABC and MSNBC, but ever since, um, November, all bets are off.  They can all go suck eggs as far as I'm concerned.  And after all that I did to for Rachel Maddow, too.  Dr. Morell says I have to let all of that go, but that's easy for him to say. He wasn't celebrating Christmas a year ago, when we were all hoisting heavily-laced eggnogs with cheers of "Madame President" in the living room.

Today is a sad day for me. Nobody understands me.  I mean, REALLY understands me.  Except for you, diary.

I miss Vince.

Subscribe for each day's entry by Email!