I Love My "Staycation"

The year and day are winding down, rain pouring from the invisible sky. We're supposed to have a real storm coming in tonight. It's been dark and damp for days now, just like it's supposed to be this time of year. Thank god for the intense emerald that is the new grass, it's the only bright spot I've got.

Catching up...

Christmas was lovely and mellow. Mom and stepdad came down on Friday, and my brother and his family came over for crepes on Christmas morning. My cold was still pretty bad, which usually makes it hard for me to socialize, but I was so glad to have so many people filling our little home. The crepes came out well, my niece modeled her new dress for the spring dance and borrowed some rhinestones, and my nephew was a dear beyond his years. I had knitted him a stocking cap for Xmas, and it was too large, so it got a few laughs when he tried it on. But bless him, he stuck with it--every time I looked over at him, he had the hat on in a different way, trying to work out a style. And he did, wearing the cap throughout his visit, which I thought was very sweet.

After my brother's family left, the four of us went on a walk around a nearby lake. We were surprised at how many people were out and about on Christmas. Mom did pretty well with her one crutch, but it was a low speed cruise. Back home, we played Scrabble and had a nice dinner, and that was Christmas 2004.

Christmas Day at Lake Ralphine
Originally uploaded by suzipaw.

Mom left on Sunday, and M's brother arrived on Monday. In between, the dust from the bathroom remodel had engulfed our bedroom, exacerbating my cold, so we decided to clean up in a big way. Curtains and bedding down to the bedskirt washed, every nook and cranny including the bed frame vacuumed, windows cleaned and thrown open to the fresh if damp air. It exhausted me, but I slept so much better that night, and it felt like the right thing to do to prepare for the new year. Now if I could just train myself to repeat that act with each room in the house on a regular basis...

M's brother's visit was nice. I was glad for M, he looks up to and loves his brother so much, and I knew it meant a lot that he was here for a few nights. We went to a sports bar to watch Monday night football, watched movies another evening, they shot pool and walked the dog. His visit contributed to the feeling that this really is a special holiday.

Funny how my daily cycle changes when work is not a factor. I've been staying up later and sleeping in later. Though that part of my illness when I was waking up at 1:00 a.m. and coughing and blowing my nose for a few wretched hours every night may also be playing a part. I also enjoy the cycle of homekeeping after having guests, slowly returning our little pad back to its "private" state. We made a lot of progress on the bathroom today, installing the shower, putting up the first coat of paint, and prepping the floor for tiling. I know I'd have a hard time with a project of this size while working.

One other thing happened: while I think I'm not a superstitious person, of course I am. I consult the Magic 8Ball regularly, I buy lottery tickets, I read my horoscope religiously every Thursday, and I wear a horseshoe necklace. Well, I did until two days ago. I joined the chain around my neck over two years ago, and there it remained. Not that I thought it would bring me luck, but rather to remind me just how fortunate I am. But I was feeling a little weird about it lately. I didn't want to take it off--it would be tempting fate at the least--but I wasn't sure I wanted to wear it in the wedding. I have two other nice pieces in the running, depending on the neckline. So the other night I was removing the many layers swaddling my torso against the chill, and the chain broke. I've been wandering around horseshoe-free for the last few days, and so far have avoided lightning and misfortunes. Again, perhaps a sign that it's a new year, time to do (or wear) things a little differently.

Rex's Christmas Chops

Rex's Christmas Chops
Originally uploaded by suzipaw.

Rex sez: Hope your Christmas was as delicious as mine!

Longer Days, Hallelujah!

M looks at his laptop and tells me that the rest of the country is experiencing a run-up to a chilly white Christmas. Meanwhile, it's an unusually gorgeous day here. After mornings stuffed with fog, the last few have been crystal clear, blue, dry air, warm-ish even. More like July at Christmas.

Wish I could enjoy it more. I of course recognize the essential role mucus plays in my life, but does it have to be such a diva these last few days? I'm stuffy, achey, haven't been sleeping well. Not the Christmas hostess image I want to project to my family, but I have no choice. I'm glad I have the time to loll about and let my cold run its course, what with the office closed. I do feel bad that I can't help M more with the bathroom. But not too bad.

We've (that would be the royal we) had a few setbacks with the bathroom project. The floor wasn't in bad shape after all, but it wasn't level, and the walls aren't plumb, making shower insertion a bit tricky. He had to use a product called, magically enough, "instant floor leveller" which apparently lived up to its name and created a nice seal to boot. He didn't realize the walls weren't flat until after he had put up new drywall, so he had to pull it off and coax the studs into plumb with shims and a plane. Advice from friends and neighbors was invaluable. M's now taping and mudding the seams--we may get to prime behind the shower today. I think once this part is done, the hurdles won't be so high. Well, there is the floor tile to get through.

Now the long nights start to become shorter again, hallelujah! And the new year is coming. Time to reflect a bit on the past and indulge the illusion that I can plan the future. Well, nothing wrong with goals...I try to keep a little scrapbook with me to make notes about activities and keep ticket stubs, photos etc. as I go--I really regret not writing down more about life when I lived in NYC. (Yeah, I wait til I become the boring 'burbanite before chronicling my every move--good going, self.) I haven't kept up with the scrapbook aside from throwing things into a pile, but one item on my to-do list this vacation is to put it all together with a few pithy comments before throwing it into the "2004" plastic shoebox in my hall closet. That'll serve for the reflection.

(Now that I've entered the blogosphere, what will I do for a scrapbook next year? How will I incorporate other mementos, souvenirs, and text that I don't want on line? Gotta make a plan on that.)

M and I did have a little talk on the future recently, though the more distant future. It reminded me a bit about when we first started dating, and the world truly felt like our own lustrous, pearl-bedecked oyster. I think that was one thing that made me fall in love with him--he can really dream big. I, true to my Virgo nature, was sure to try to bring him down to earth--I wonder how he put up with me sometimes--I'm pretty good at keeping my mouth shut now. But, I kept my mouth shut (sorta) when he talked about law school, thinking that would never happen in a million years, and look where that got me--engaged to a law student, sigh.

Anyway...we talked about how I still really long to live in very urban setting again. He doesn't, but is not locked into being a DA in Sonoma County, either. So he's thinking about maybe looking at being an attorney at the appellate level in SF, which might be nice for a time. Well, that's at least four years and a bar exam away.

While we're on the subject of locational longings, my other fantasy is to live in a very rural setting where I raise old-fashioned farm breeds that are dying out--why the opposite from citygirl, I wonder? Could it be that I think that anything besides this middle ground where I find myself now is better? I also have a secret wish that M's journalism background will merge with his law studies and he'll replace Nina Totenberg when she retires and I'll ghostwrite a law and culture column for him in some prestigious mag. Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

Longer Days, Halleluja!

M looks at his laptop and tells me that the rest of the country is experiencing a run-up to a chilly white Christmas. Meanwhile, it's an unusually gorgeous day here. After mornings stuffed with fog, the last few have been crystal clear, blue, dry air, warm-ish even. More like July at Christmas.

Wish I could enjoy it more. I of course recognize the essential role mucus plays in my life, but does it have to be such a diva these last few days? I'm stuffy, achey, haven't been sleeping well. Not the Christmas hostess image I want to project to my family, but I have no choice. I'm glad I have the time to loll about and let my cold run its course, what with the office closed. I do feel bad that I can't help M more with the bathroom. But not too bad.

We've (that would be the royal we) had a few setbacks with the bathroom project. The floor wasn't in bad shape after all, but it wasn't level, and the walls aren't plumb, making shower insertion a bit tricky. He had to use a product called, magically enough, "instant floor leveller" which apparently lived up to its name and created a nice seal to boot. He didn't realize the walls weren't flat until after he had put up new drywall, so he had to pull it off and coax the studs into plumb with shims and a plane. Advice from friends and neighbors was invaluable. M's now taping and mudding the seams--we may get to prime behind the shower today. I think once this part is done, the hurdles won't be so high. Well, there is the floor tile to get through.

Now the long nights start to become shorter again, hallelujah! And the new year is coming. Time to reflect a bit on the past and indulge the illusion that I can plan the future. Well, nothing wrong with goals...I try to keep a little scrapbook with me to make notes about activities and keep ticket stubs, photos etc. as I go--I really regret not writing down more about life when I lived in NYC. (Yeah, I wait til I become the boring 'burbanite before chronicling my every move--good going, self.) I haven't kept up with the scrapbook aside from throwing things into a pile, but one item on my to-do list this vacation is to put it all together with a few pithy comments before throwing it into the "2004" plastic shoebox in my hall closet. That'll serve for the reflection.

(Now that I've entered the blogosphere, what will I do for a scrapbook next year? How will I incorporate other mementos, souvenirs, and text that I don't want on line? Gotta make a plan on that.)

M and I did have a little talk on the future recently, though the more distant future. It reminded me a bit about when we first started dating, and the world truly felt like our own lustrous, pearl-bedecked oyster. I think that was one thing that made me fall in love with him--he can really dream big. I, true to my Virgo nature, was sure to try to bring him down to earth--I wonder how he put up with me sometimes--I'm pretty good at keeping my mouth shut now. But, I kept my mouth shut (sorta) when he talked about law school, thinking that would never happen in a million years, and look where that got me--engaged to a law student, sigh.

Anyway...we talked about how I still really long to live in very urban setting again. He doesn't, but is not locked into being a DA in Sonoma County, either. So he's thinking about maybe looking at being an attorney at the appellate level in SF, which might be nice for a time. Well, that's at least four years and a bar exam away.

While we're on the subject of locational longings, my other fantasy is to live in a very rural setting where I raise old-fashioned farm breeds that are dying out--why the opposite from citygirl, I wonder? Could it be that I think that anything besides this middle ground where I find myself now is better? I also have a secret wish that M's journalism background will merge with his law studies and he'll replace Nina Totenberg when she retires and I'll ghostwrite a law and culture column for him in some prestigious mag. Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

A Saturday Morning

December in California
Originally uploaded by suzipaw.

Reading through the day's new blogs, and thought I'd post one myself.

The hawk is up and about, invisible but audible. Last night, I wanted so badly to sleep in--I'm feeling a sore throat coming on--but I arose at 5:30 a.m. thanks in part to Dogboy, in part to a humming brain. I made a latte, put on my knit cap, wrapped blankets and felines about me and parked in the TV room with my book for several hours. Luxurious, but I couldn't shake off feeling tired. Crawled back into bed for another hour or so, trying to avoid the turning on the heater. I made cornbread for breakfast, a warm, comforting treat. M and I ordered a gift basket for his family and wrote out more Christmas cards. I commented on how we should resolve never to take the photocard pic in the morning ever EVER again, and we both wondered aloud how it happened that we chose to send a picture of ourselves that we are both embarrassed about to just about everyone that means anything to us.

M made great progress on the bathroom yesterday. He pulled everything out, all the fixtures, the floor, and there's a jagged, satisfying hole in the shower, which can only be hauled out of the bathroom in pieces. Once the demo is done, the hard part begins.

Now we're simultaneously typing on our laptops, which seems so odd to me. We're not geeks, we're not! How did these machines become such an integral part of our lives? Time to get back to the shudder Christmas cards...or maybe I should plant the tulip bulbs...

In Praise of Blogging

So I received a Christmas card from my Aunt J. She wasn't going to send cards this year, she wrote, but she wanted to respond to my post about Christmas. How cool is that? I'll have to encourage her to comment publicly in the future if the spirit moves her when she returns from the Great Family Voyage to India next month.

Also incredibly cool is that, due to apparently-random-yet-perhaps-not forces of the universe colliding, the keeper of My Oyster has a link to my blog from hers. I'm thrilled beyond words about it. I've been reading and loving her blog for a while now, so I've linked back. I feel like I'm starting a friendship--and in an utterly untraditional way. I mostly read the blogs of people I actually know, so it's particularly interesting for me to learn of a life unfolding bit by bit from someone I've never met. It harkens back a bit to the French penpal I had in high school except we aren't writing directly to each other. Perfect for an introvert like me!

Et Tu, Centeredness?

Ack! I can feel my oneness with the Universe seeping away and crabbiness replacing it. Stop me before I gripe again!

It's a bit holiday related, a time of year where I am in constant struggle with my inner miser, exacerbated this year by the fact that M has been un- or underemployed for several months now. I try to be good--we put together a big goodie box for M's friend in Iraq, and I donated two gifts to the Tree of Hope project here at work. But gift giving is a little charged for me too. It's not that I don't like giving and receiving, but having such a mass of it all at once is a challenge for me. So much pressure to get it right, and to relax my innate tightfistedness.

It started on Sunday, when I got together with some old friends for our quarterly outing. A year ago, the four of us had agreed not to get gifts for each other anymore--our gatherings would be enough. I stopped at the first friend's house, so we could carpool into the Bay Area for brunch with the other two. On her coffee table hunkered three identically shaped gifts. Were these for us? I of course had no gifts. We discussed our agreement. I didn't want to squelch her generosity, and how much more ungracious could I be to refuse a gift? But having nothing to exchange made me feel terrible. Especially since I had been the only one not to have gifts to exchange during our dates in the past. She decided she would bring them "just in case" the other gals had gifts.

Sure enough, over brunch at Bette's in Berkeley, one of the other gals brought out three bags of her homemade granola. Another discussion ensued, and I once again had the great good fortune to feel simultaneously ungracious, guilty, and inadequate. The fourth friend also was giftless, but I suspect it was only because she's remodeling her home and didn't have the facilities to produce pickles, her annual gift. Going with the majority, the first friend did not distribute her gifts after all. But the gift gauntlet has hit the ground again. I'm on the hook for next year. Or maybe I'll bring gifts at some other time of year, just to mess with them a little. Hah! Take that gift, you!

Why do I get my knickers in a knot about these things? I was (um, am) angry at myself for making a big deal of it, and for feeling guilty in the first place. Sigh.

I'm also gripe-y because work is very busy, and we should all be thinking pleasant holiday thoughts, not worrying frantically about deadlines. One of my colleagues is just bugging me. And I know that it's all very small, my crabbiness and tiredness is magnifying my irritation at his requests and suggestions, but that makes it harder to work as efficiently as I need to in order to ward off deadline-driven stress.

Finally, I'm grumble-y with one of my brothers. He's been saying that he and his family will be celebrating Christmas Day with me. His wife's sister lives here too, so they'll be here for a week before Christmas (they often visit, but I sort of feel like a visited afterthought--I can't play the kid card and like many of his gender, my brother just doesn't take the lead in planning). So I'm very excited about Christmas--a big day for me to entertain. Frankly, I'm surprised that they want to spend it with me. But then I learn that they're actually heading home that day too (a bit of a drive), and that his mother-in-law, who lives three blocks from them, may want to be with them on Christmas too, so they'll need to leave early. So my slice of familial holiday hostessing grows slimmer, and I feel a bit marginalized. I'm trying to be the good sister and remember that he has many obligations to balance. I'm trying...

*****

M woke this morning and turned to me:

Paw [he calls me Paw, I call him Paw. Don't ask. I don't know why, either], I had a bad dream. I dreamed I couldn't get to the wedding. I was stuck in traffic. And I hadn't written the vows either, so I tried to write them on the way, but they were terrible, trite. I got out of the car and started running, but I got caught up on a rose bush.

*****

Speaking of weddings, my dad and stepmom have been visiting for the last couple of days. We drove out to Korbel today to have lunch and take advantage of big discounts that I get though work. It was a lovely day, we ate outside. I came home with two cases of champagne, my first event-related purchase.

Dad and stepmom took M and me out to dinner last night as a Christmas gift--they said make it good, so we did. It's been a while since I've been to a restaurant with genuinely good service and above average food. It was truly a treat.

*****

What would I rather do other than work on my so-called novel?
Blog.
Knit.
Rake leaves.
Balance my checkbook.
Boil and bone chicken. And I'm a vegetarian.
Fold laundry.

Thinking of you...

My Grandma Beulah, circa 1911
Originally uploaded by suzipaw.

A Non-Writer's Life

Monday's writers group meeting was a landmark: none of us brought anything new to read or critique. I couldn't believe it. Are we getting soft? We decided to talk for a while, which we can't help but do for a fair amount of time every meeting, but only after writing for 45 minutes. I was just going to do the exercise for the Washington Post--your life in 100 words or less (if they publish it, they send you $100!)--but at the urging of the gals, we all worked on character sketches for our current project. I'm happy to report that was very helpful. I've been feeling very uninspired to work on my YA novel of high school in the '70s (hm, how did I come up with that idea?), but this exercised revived my interested. I wrote about my main character's best friend, and afterwards I felt so much better.

I still struggle so much with my writing. My little brain swirls with fantasies about being a writer for a living, or at least for a little extra cash and/or amusement. I receive plenty of support and encouragement from family and friends. But I manage to find other things to fill my time with other than writing. Why is this? Am I lazy? Afraid of failure?

*****

One of our discussion topics during the meeting was God, something I've been thinking about a great deal lately, and trying to put into words. I didn't grow up in a very religious family, and Rebecca commented that Christmas must've been weird without the God component. My first reaction was "How could it be weird--it's all I knew?" But upon reflection, the public part of Christmas was a bit disconnected for me when I was young. People were going to church and partaking of rituals that had no meaning for me, and it was odd for me since supposedly Christmas is a religious holiday and I didn't associate the celebration to God at all.

I'm not sure how/if it relates, but this brings up similar feelings of being child free: I'm having a hard time describing what it's like to feel left out of a "club" (church, parental circles) that I don't want to belong to in the first place; and, I'm finally becoming more comfortable with what not being a parent and what celebrating Christmas means in my life.

Life Is Sweet

It was, perhaps, a perfect day yesterday, and for no good reason.

I awoke refreshed (did not have the extra beer the night before).

M and I powerwalked with the dog first thing.

While he showered, I made him breakfast and lunch for his long study day.

I made an arrangement of roses.

I did a few chores--a load of laundry, made the bed, blogged briefly--that I knew would make me feel organized.

I started my Christmas shopping by going to a rummage sale in a senior community where a friend lives. The lucky brooch I had pinned on when leaving the house worked--I found a CD of Christmas music for 50 cents. A first purchase is the essential offering to the Shopping Gods. I chatted briefly with my friend, which was so pleasant.

The quaint little village of Sebastopol proved fruitful:
Pint glasses for M, a bug vacuum/explorer kit for nephew, slippers and foot goodies for secret santa sis-in-law, groovy poncho for niece, and a lovely Pendleton robe for me, half price at a consignment store. Sadly, no yarn for Veronica's kitty pi.

I also rifled through the dress racks at a vintage store for wedding dresses. Didn't find anything, but the idea that I might be able to marry in an outfit costing less than century note appeals to me mightily.

Back home, I started to decorate the house--tis the season. I had gotten some fire sale Christmas-y things from Michael's years ago, but never used them. So now the gate has festive fake greenery (my Martha Stewart training made me cringe, until I remembered how much money I was saving, and found out how easy that stuff is to work with) and the breezeway is festooned with colored lights. I could barely keep from grinning as I did this--I'm such a craft geek. I think M can help me hang the icicle lights on Wednesday. Can't wait!

Then I multi-tasked my way: started dinner, knitted on a cap for my nephew while Pookie sat in my lap and I listed to Prairie Home Companion, pausing occasionally to sip some beer. How could life get any better, I thought? I hadn't overextended myself, budget-wise or time-wise. I felt filled to just the right amount, humble and grateful for that feeling. I am so fortunate to have what I have.

M came home late--he had been kicked out of the library, so spent the last two hours studying at Krispy Kreme. I kissed him when he came in the door, and he looked so strange--his eyes were glazed, and he smelled sweet and slightly of cream of tartar. We had eaten dinner and were an hour into American Splendor (which I recommend) before he emerged from his study coma.

Today, we slept in, feasted on a breakfast of pancakes, raked the leaves, and now we're back at the library. I'm blogging instead of working on my essay for tomorrow's writers group meeting. OK! Fine! I'm going there now...

She Likes It. She Really, Really Likes It.

Pookie in her Pi
Originally uploaded by suzipaw.

Pookie has approved of her kitty pi, thank goodness! All that knitting was not for naught. Unfortunately, the sides don't stay up, so it resembles an enormous flattened beret on the sofa when not in use, but I think another wash and strategic blocking will help.

Also unfortunately, Veronica, the inky, charismatic fur whale who occupies the top of the pet pecking order around these parts, hijacks the pi upon occasion, so I think I'll go out now and get more wool for another pi. Anything to put off working on something to bring to the Monday writers group meeting...

Way More than 15 Minutes of Fame

Trolling BoingBoing this morning, I came across a post about an artist who plasticizes people. Already dead ones, thank goodness. One of the first steps in the process is defatting--better than liposuction! Sadly, no mechanism for body donation in the US--yet. Maybe there will be by the time I'm ready to go.

You were wondering--yes, you can buy related stuff.

My Hero

M is bathed in a particularly fetching glow these past two days, in my eyes. He did it--he spoke to our neighbors about their dog. He calmly expressed that they were treating their dog cruelly, and that he wanted to help--help with training, help find the dog a new home, whatever.

When M first told me about the shock collar last weekend, I did have a pretty bad reaction. I felt so helpless as well as angry, and I think that had a motivating effect on M. He's just doing the right thing, but it's amazing to me.

He said the husband was taken aback, but it got him thinking, apparently: a doghouse has appeared. I haven't had a chance to sneakily examine it in detail yet, but I think it's too small. But it's a start.

*******

Feeling like you don't have enough worthy goals in your life? I know I don't! Here's a little guidance for us, an article about 100 Things to Do Before You Die. Gotta get those Choctaw audio tapes for the commute, yeah...