Well, Kids ... It's over. And we made it. Some would argue that it is, in fact, not over, as is indicated by the 1/2 block line-up outside A&B Sound at 6:30 this morning, but in theory, it's over. For now.
I think Santa has a crush on me. Presents abounded, as did love and snuggles for my lil' mini me. We are fortunate, it is true. We made a voice recording for his first Christmas, complete with messages from loved ones and he himself crying in the car on the way home after 17 hours of chaos.
This week between Christmas and New Years always confuses me: is it still technically the holidays, or not? Is it safe to reestablish a routine, hit the gym, stop eating bonbons all day, or is there still five more days of lying on the couch like an inanimate, yet slightly sentient pleasure seeker? I ponder.
I am taking someone to the airport today, a real gift as far as I am concerned. Everytime a person travels, they are, in essence, expanding the boundaries of their existence and I am always honoured to share the experience. It's like having mini-cameos in a hundred little B-flicks.
Anyway, I am grateful for the sun, my son, the stopping of the rain, and the fact that the milk in my espresso didn't curdle today. Life is grand.
Monday, December 26, 2005
Saturday, December 24, 2005
It's Here!
Christmas Eve ... a weirdly happy yet melancholic day in my world. It's 7 a.m. and I just noticed another one of those fuzzy, incoherant fogs creeping in, reminding me immediately of the ambiguity of my feelings about this holiday. I am pleased at the prospect of seeing my family (some of it), my friends, and relatively happy strangers. I have sparkly little gifts all over the place, which I wrapped mostly in fabric or decorative boxes to make my impact on the earth miniscule this year. Giving is exciting for me, even if it just means hanging a lil' somthing on someone's door knob and driving away. I do this all year round, though, so there is no foriegn element to the glee of it all.
It is a time of reflection for me too, and I think that's where some of the melancholy comes from. I miss the simplicity and joy that Christmas was as a kid. Travelling about from house to house, seeing family, eating yummy food, opening presents, and falling asleep in the car on the way home. Those are nice memories. I miss my sister a lot, all the time, but now especially. She hasn't met my son yet, which is tragic, but unavoidable. I miss Kaeden's dad a lot, especially now. Last year this time there was so much about him I didn't understand (maybe didn't want to understand?), and I wonder if we'll ever get past the confusion, the hurt, the wanting peace so bad but it always being just outside our reach. I hope so. Nonetheless, our sweet little baby was already growing inside of me last Christmas. That's him above.
I have a long day ahead of me. I am delivering gifts of cookies and other treats, then heading to my dad's later on. Christmas Eve always seemed more like Christmas than the actual day, so I am excited and thrilled I finished all my fussing early. Like November. I made it through yesterday without stocking up at the liquor store, although admittedly I needed an escort to the mall in order to avoid this. It's just too easy.
Time to get sparkled up for the day. I am sending healing, safe, comforting, empathetic energy out to everyone today, especially those suffering on this emotionally voltile holiday. Remember: it's just a day, and if you can make it through without giving up, picking up, or throwing up, that's one more big, fat accomplishment under your belt.
Happy Holidays and Peace be with Everyone.
Friday, December 16, 2005
A Seinfeld Post
I don't know why it is, but every time I come to this site and begin a new entry, everything freezes up. Not the site -- my words. I wait for my son to fall asleep, make a cup of strawberry-cranberry-orange-green tea from the Shanghai Emporium, nestle into my little chair, and prepare to send my brilliant ideas out in to the universe. Then I stop.
Everything flies out of my head like George W. in a crisis, and I sit here, staring, wondering, thinking. I'm considering the possibility that my brain freeze is the direct result of knowing I am writing for myself, and not for entertainment ... perhaps my head is bigger than I think it is, and I do, for a change, mean that metaphorically.
***
It's crispy cold outside today and my yard looks like something out of a creepy fairy tale. I live in a church, steeple and all, and the grass is all silver and crunchy around me. We have bunnies. Many, many bunnies. They don't look cold at all, little muffins. There is a thin fog around the perimeter of the property and I half expect a buff, boobsie blonde to come barrelling out of the horizon, only to be shredded by some freak with a steak knife a half inch from my front door.
***
It excites me that Christmas is almost here, not because I love the holiday, but because I love the idea that for one whole day it won't be hard to find anybody. No fifty phone calls around, no work schedules to remember, no social functions to keep track of. Just a whole wack of people snuggled up in their houses, revelling in soft lights and the joy of softly spent jammies. That is the life. I'm doing something special this year, but to talk about it would be to violate an imperative principle of self-care. So yeah.
***
Enough about me, let's talk about junkies. I drove past a guy laying on the sidewalk today and I thought he was hurt. I slowed down, pulled over, and went to get out ... then I saw his hands, the rig, his eyes. I suppose after 1.5 years in this town it's rather futile for me to become in any way perplexed by a person doing a big smash in the middle of the sidewalk at 2 p.m., but it still makes me wonder where people are going in life. All of them. The ones and the manies.
***
Mayonnaise has got to be the sickest thing known to human kind.
***
Everything flies out of my head like George W. in a crisis, and I sit here, staring, wondering, thinking. I'm considering the possibility that my brain freeze is the direct result of knowing I am writing for myself, and not for entertainment ... perhaps my head is bigger than I think it is, and I do, for a change, mean that metaphorically.
***
It's crispy cold outside today and my yard looks like something out of a creepy fairy tale. I live in a church, steeple and all, and the grass is all silver and crunchy around me. We have bunnies. Many, many bunnies. They don't look cold at all, little muffins. There is a thin fog around the perimeter of the property and I half expect a buff, boobsie blonde to come barrelling out of the horizon, only to be shredded by some freak with a steak knife a half inch from my front door.
***
It excites me that Christmas is almost here, not because I love the holiday, but because I love the idea that for one whole day it won't be hard to find anybody. No fifty phone calls around, no work schedules to remember, no social functions to keep track of. Just a whole wack of people snuggled up in their houses, revelling in soft lights and the joy of softly spent jammies. That is the life. I'm doing something special this year, but to talk about it would be to violate an imperative principle of self-care. So yeah.
***
Enough about me, let's talk about junkies. I drove past a guy laying on the sidewalk today and I thought he was hurt. I slowed down, pulled over, and went to get out ... then I saw his hands, the rig, his eyes. I suppose after 1.5 years in this town it's rather futile for me to become in any way perplexed by a person doing a big smash in the middle of the sidewalk at 2 p.m., but it still makes me wonder where people are going in life. All of them. The ones and the manies.
***
Mayonnaise has got to be the sickest thing known to human kind.
***
Friday, December 02, 2005
Start Again
Here i go again with this blogging thing. I started one many moons ago, but got busy, bashful, and bored; here i go again.
There is so much to say, since the last time. I've created a new life, entered a new decade, changed my hair. Where to begin?
At the start. Someone once talked me out of covering up an old tattoo by saying it was part of the road map of my life. Interesting point. I suppose if that's true, I can jump in just about anywhere along the map and call it a new beginning.
Here's one.
There is so much to say, since the last time. I've created a new life, entered a new decade, changed my hair. Where to begin?
At the start. Someone once talked me out of covering up an old tattoo by saying it was part of the road map of my life. Interesting point. I suppose if that's true, I can jump in just about anywhere along the map and call it a new beginning.
Here's one.
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