I feel like the Grinch after his heart grew three sizes. I’m not moved by roast beast, but I suddenly “get” it. I’m in the Christmas spirit. Probably the biggest spirit I have ever seen. I want white twinkle lights on my ceiling, the smell of balsam & cinnamon in every room, pine needles on the floor (yes, I want a real tree), hot apple cider mulled wine, and Mel singing ‘Some Kind of Winter’. Okay, I would like Christmas here, now. One of my oldest friends confided that she *might* be moving home and that alone was a gift. Christmas in a phone call. Only 35 days early, too!
I showed my husband the Christmas presents I bought yesterday with G. I love, love, love the idea of getting something for everyone in my heart – seriously. My gift to you might be small, tiny even, but know that when you open it I was thinking of you. Still am. Will continue to.
More gifts came in the mail today. I can’t wait to sit on the floor, surrounded by gift paper, ribbons & bows, clever tags and tape. Can’t wait to start wrapping. I bought something for a special space. I bought something for a beautiful face. Well, a few of those actually…
My husband gave me gifts last night: new music on my mp3 player. Gary Jules and BubbleGum and Robinella … I’m not sophisticated enough to do all that transferring by myself. In order to make room for this new stuff I gave up songs like ‘Boris the Spider’ and ‘Highway to Hell’. Great songs to run to, not so good for cooking. I kept ‘Miss You’ because I miss him. I kept KT because it reminds me of a girl. Songs are like gifts, they bring me to you. One way or another. So, I need James Blunt so I can miss my sister. I want your favorite song so I can think of you, too.
I have one Christmas dilemma…I need to research a gift for my nephew. He needs books on tape. Nothing visual, just audio. He’s this side of three so he needs something sturdy – something he can knock around, something that can occupy him while little brother is sleeping/nursing… Truthfully, I wanted to get him something drum-like. Something to bang, but I don’t think that will go over too well with his mom! Any suggestions on the audio book thing?
Category: Good
Heart Warming Heart Thawing
I used to be one of those people that grumbled about hearing Christmas music while still seeing Halloween decorations. I used to be the person claiming it was never “too late” to put the decorations out. In fact, the later the better. I also announced I’ve never had a good Christmas. Well, things must be different this year. I have silver bells and boughs of holly on the brain. A friend was driving us to see sirsy when she spotted Christmas lights strung along a fence. I thought they were pretty and added some cheer to the dying light of this November night. She scowled. I tried to appear concurrent and said, “oh I know! I’m hearing Christmas music in the stores already!” But. But, secretly, I liked the lights. I have to face facts – I’m starting to like Christmas again. Here’s an example of my past Grinchiness: I kept a meticulous Christmas card list. Anyone who didn’t send me a card for two years running was automatically crossed off my send list the following year (note: I didn’t even wait for the three strikes you’re out rule). The only exceptions to that “banishment” were 1) friends I’ve known for a verrry long time, 2) people who I knew sucked at writing anything, much less a Christmas card ( read: bachelor friends without even girlfriends) and 3) relatives who would read into not getting some scrawl from me by December 26th.
Not this year. I’m rewriting the “list” and throwing out the rules.
Maybe it’s because I have a partner for life to share the holidays with. Maybe it’s because I’m happier than I used to be (although that’s hard to believe as of late). Maybe it’s because I am not obligated to wait for the black cloud of Christmas yesteryear to settle at the table like an unwanted guest. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen The Mood on a 12/25 in a long time.
So, corporate America, bring it on! Play your holiday commercials, sing your Christmas jingles. You won’t annoy me this year. I’m a holiday shopper with a smile on my face and a thawing heart to boot.
BubbleGum Bound
…or Dreamy Johnny Bound.
My husband sent me an email with the subject line: Dreamy Johnny. I’m oh so skeptical when my husband calls anything, “dreamy.” He’s usually drunk. But, it’s the middle of the afternoon and he’s supposed to be at work. So, anyway I get this “dreamy” email and am prepared to be all sorts of confused. I’m not. I’m stunned. J is sending me an update on BubbleGum’s tourdates. “Can we? Can we?” is all I wrote back. I was kidding. Sorta.
This Saturday we scored tickets. I’m going to see BubbleGum!
Tornado
I have so much to “vent” about that I’m not sure where to start. If I look in and try to decide on one thing, I miss everything. It’s like being in that money wind tunnel. I’m grasping and grabbing but still coming up empty handed. Nada. I want to talk about a night of sirsy and good friends. It’s that good friends thing that has me so happy. The music was a bonus. So, so much fun. I want to talk about the run today. I need to talk about what went wrong…and log my “time”, my stats. I want to question sexuality and ping pong balls (thanks a lot boys). So many words but complete sentences aren’t working their way out. Maybe I’m not meant to say anything at all. For now. I’ll have more time (peace = quiet) tomorrow.
Sister Thoughts
DMB once said something about having a lid: “I have no lid upon my head, but I I did you could look inside and see what’s on my mind…” or something like that. If you were to look inside my head you would see two conflicting thoughts, duking it out for control in my skull. They circle each other, growing stronger, weaker, and battling back again.
Thought Number 1 is all about a You that I refuse to relent to. Some people don’t have access to this blog because, I’ll be honest, I’m a coward when it comes to confrontation. I would rather blather about You, my words being the spit in your face that I could never dare fling in real life, than try to work it out with you. It’s too far gone for reconciliation. Really. Keeping mentioning how you miss my blog. Go ahead. You don’t miss it, you miss the ability to think you know me. “Do you love me or the thought or me? Me, or the thought of me?” (yes, more John Mayer). But, back to the confrontation: I don’t hold much favor for MyUglySpace, so I wouldn’t take it personally if someone deleted me as a “friend”… BUT, when you delete someone strictly to retaliate, that’s childish. Did you really think your “friend” was going to sulk a corner, crying because your “profile” was no longer on the space? How much hurt were you trying to deliver? Whatever. Delete away, my friend. You still can’t read my blog.
Thought #2 is all about being proud of a different you, an honest you. I have watched this you grow and change and grow again. I’ve been aware of your life from further away than I would ever like, but I’ve been a huge fan. I’ve been a cheerleader for all your accomplishments…all your life. Yes, we have created different circles. I don’t feel left out of yours. Not in the least. I was born into your circle, just as you were born into mine. I can say it openly and honestly, I am proud of you.
Now – go kick that other you’s ass, will you?
Which Side Are You On?
Voters Day. Election Day. Political Fanfare Day. Don’t forget to vote. Vote. Like a good girl I filled in my arrows, democratic green and yes in marker black. Do I want my alcohol coming from a grocery-“one-stop-shop”-store? Why not? It works for Maine, right? Whatever. It was like taking the SATs, only without the number two pencil. Lines instead of circles. Hiding in a cubicle. Don’t cheat. Where are the polls with the curtains? I want to stand, feet showing, behind the curtain. I want to be like Oz.
I heard of another kind of test today – a much cooler one, in my opinion. Everyone knows what a crazy Natalie Merchant fan I am. Well, someone sent me a HowWellDoYouKnowTheGesture test. It made me laugh out loud on an otherwise cloud-filled, yawn-filled day. Natalie does all kind of weird hand gestures during some songs and the “test” was to name the gesture that “goes” with the lyric. Yes, she is that predictable. Even my husband knows the gesture that goes with, “tilt that bottle in the air.” 😉
Over Your Limit
I learned a valuable lesson about buying whoopies from Moody’s. As a walk-in you can only walk out with four. Four is your limit. We didn’t think we would be stopping for the Moody Whoop at all, though. I didn’t think we would have time. We were running late. We had a late lunch, talked running with some proud runner’s parents (headed for the NYC marathon) so talking about the running made us run late. Route One was running, too.
But, something made me stop. In the late afternoon sun the neon sign called to me. Open. Stopping. We went in for four but when I opened my mouth to order, out came the word, “eight.” Surprised at myself we looked at each other. Eight? Eight! Eight. The cashier disappeared. Another appeared. Then one was two. One said no, four. The other said okay, eight. I threw in a HowToMakeTheWhoopieRecipe cookbook. Didn’t care what the total was. I was walking out with eight.
Most people bring flowers to a hospital room. Some even bring cute, cuddly, stuffed teddy bears. We came bearing gifts, too. Chocolate and cream whoopies. One for each hand. Each bigger than a hand. Such a strange gift for a maternity ward. At bleary eyed three in the morning someone brought my sister’s son to her. She ate her whoopie and said it was delicious. I’m glad I went over the limit.
Things Change
For typical you and me when the phone rings at 3 o’anything in the morning we are prone to panic. We sit bolt upright with a slight pound in the heartbeat. Things are not typical at Chez Spence. The phone rings at all hours of the late night/wee morning with annoying regularity. My husband’s position at work requires him to be available all the time…and I do mean all the time. The phone is by his side of the bed for that very reason and when it rings, I barely notice it. Sometimes I even sleep through it. 3:52am was no different. I vaguely heard the ring. J was out of room, saying hello before I could even roll over and register. Here’s where things change: it was my mother. I could tell by J’s quick, “no..no that’s okay.” He never tells his staff okay to anything. My first terrified thought was back to the typical, “who died?” Ruth was my immediate without-thinking thought. Sh!t. Then I heard the tone in my husband’s sleepy, tender voice and had a third thought, Silas! My sister finally had her second son!
Things change. I was supposed to see sirsy tonight but for the second time I’m canceling. Family has always come first. Last time it was heartbreak, this time it’s celebration. Guess I’ll be heading to Maine today!
Closing Up Shop
Just as I typed the title of this blog, John said, “this is ‘In Repair’.” That’s how today feels…like life is in repair. Today was all about packing up. The Halloween friends were put away. My Mama Witch, the scardy cat, the bleeding skull, the bats…all newspapered and bubble wrapped up. Only Serious sits outside on the stoop. I’ll keep him until kids crash him down Pumpkin Hill, animals carry him off, or the rot of age sets in and he becomes an orange mess on my porch…whichever comes first. Hopefully he’ll ripened to real rot then I can throw him in the bushes. I want baby Serious-es sprouting in my shrubs. Seriously. Could I be so lucky? My mother-in-law would probably kill, kill, kill me.
To date I have closed 191 blogs to the public. 179 have been deleted entirely. I don’t know how that makes me feel. On the surface, I am pleased to be more private. Mud level, I am not so sure. I said some important things to people I love and now I’ve taken away their ability to reread the words (should they want to). I called S an amazingly good friend. I called R my sister. Those things won’t change. Ever. I still mean those words…in some cases more than ever. In reality I guess it’s okay if its not there in black and white. I probably should say the words more often and do that “actions speak louder than words” thing anyway; plus I can always write love letters to my husband in maple syrup and halftime shows. He likes both.
Speaking of maple syrup and closing up – High Hopes will close for the season after this weekend. I’m bound and determined to go one last time. I have to get my all-you-can-eat fill of pancakes, french toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, homefries, toast, english muffins,coffee, tea and oj. The place is amazing. Where else can you put real, made-on-the-spot maple syrup on your ham & eggs and hot sauce on you potatoes and pancakes? Sometimes, when I’m feeling really good hot sauce and maple syrup go on everything. I’m not a girly-girl at High Hopes. I don’t count calories. I don’t pay attention to lady-like bites. I eat, eat, eat. It’s a buffet after all!
Best Eats…or Rachael Lovefest
Ray, Rachael. Best Eats in Town on $40 a Day. New York: Lake Isle Press. 2004.
I’m an on again, off again fan of Rachael Ray. In other words, in small doses she is wonderful. Too much of her peppiness can kill you. I watch most of her shows, flipping back and forth between something a little less sweet during the commercial breaks, (or when she gets to be too much). I’m not sure if $40 a Day the book is a spin off of $40 a Day the show because of popularity or a crazed attempt to saturate the market with all things Rachael. I’m banking on the second notion because the book is a Rachael Ray lovefest. I have never seen so many pictures of RR in one place. It’s like looking at her personal photo album with commentary. Rachael looking dreamy at a coffeehouse table, Rachael snuggling at the Grand Canyon, Rachael in a helicopter, Rachael with a glass of wine…you get the point. But, the book is more than that. It’s Rachael’s commentary on the places she’s been, the food she’s tried. It has recipes and travel advice. Contact information for the restaurants listed…Here’s why I’m not buying: the book. Not only does she succeed in finding 3-4 places to spend her $40 (and always comes in under budget), but each and every single time the food is orgasmically fantastic. What are the chances of that? Cheap and mind-blowing? I doubt it. If I was really curious I would take this book with me to a RR traveled city and test it out. Go to the places she mentions, order the food she samples and see/taste for myself. In the meantime, I’m returning the book.
Edited to add: I had the opportunity to eat at Becky’s in Portland, Maine (one of Rachael’s picks). I had the basic egg/cheese sandwich and mom had the fruit bowl. Her meal definitely looked better than mine, but my sandwich was less than $3 and worth every penny. My biggest gripe? Only one refill on the coffee.
~*LunaSea*~ 