Happy Groundhog Day
As I’ve mentioned a zillion times before, Groundhog Day is my favorite holiday of the year. I don’t have to buy presents, I don’t have to show up for dinner, I don’t have to wear something I don’t want to wear, and I don’t have to pig out at dinnertime (although I might anyway).
Still, I was wondering if the observance is celebrated with comparable apathy around the world, like in Wisconsin where my friend Rusty lives. He’s small, round and hairy, so perhaps he emerges from his burrow on this day in a show of solidarity for his rodent brethren. And then there’s this friend of mine in London who is probably busy baking groundhogs into a pie — those English people love to entomb dead animals in pastry! I’ve also got a friend who has recently moved to Seattle to start a band. She’s probably busy writing songs, trying to rhyme “groundhog” with “anguish” or “Sylvia Plath.”
For me, this is a day of no pressure. I’m going to go to the gym where I might listen to a Shakira song on my iPod to acknowledge that she came into the world on this day in 1977 (the second-greatest thing about this day). Then I’m going to come home to completely ignore the Super Bowl.
Why can’t all holidays be this relaxing?