Can I Hitch a Ride?

I was planning on going home tomorrow, flying standby, to Colorado. Now, thanks to the snow (which I had been raving about, way to repay the favor, Mr. Snow Maker), I can't go home until after Christmas. Do you realize what this has done to my Christmas spirit? Completely ruined it. I'm crushed. No--melted, into the little raindrops I so despise.

The only way I see out of this is to hitch a ride with Santa on his sleigh on Christmas Eve. Then I would be home in time for brunch with Grandma. But since my Christmas spirit is gone--there is no Santa to hitch a ride with, because he's not real (if you are five and you're reading this, sorry I ruined it, but you are five and reading, so you should probably be curing cancer or something).

My mom told me to make cookies. Yeah, like cookies can give me hugs and presents. It's not the same. Bah Humbug!

Will people stop trying to break into my car? It's getting very expensive. I'm shelling out another $191 because of your antics. What do you think I am, made of money? You made me cry. I don't like giving the mechanic my Christmas bonus. And I don't like you stealing my things. Please stop.

Encouraged

I took my car into the shop this morning, and while waiting for the shuttle to take me to work, I met a therapist who asked me what the heck I was doing out here in ol' CA. And so we got on the topic of my novel. He asked what it was about. I gave him a summary, and he was really interested. He liked the idea, and his imagination started twirling. He even remembered an old movie he liked as a child called Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid, which I will add to my NetFlicks queue shortly.

The most encouraging part was his genuine interest. He even offered to give me his wife's card, who works in publishing. I shyly declined. I'm not ready for that, I told him. I wonder when I will be? Maybe sooner if I keep getting positive feedback like this.

BBBBRRRRRrrrrrrrrr

It's cold outside--for the Bay Area anyway. There was a frost advisory until 10 am this morning. I walked Oscar in the cold, but bundled up against the cold and kept up a quick pace to jump start my inner furnace.

I was prepared for the cold outside (except for the frost on my window, don't know where we put the ice scrapers--never thought we'd need them here!), but I wasn't prepared for the cold inside. Yesterday, I came into work and my desk area was just as cold as the parking garage had been. Today, the coworker across from me said the air conditioning was on when he came in.

I expect to be warm inside when it's cold outside. But right now my fingers are so cold they are moving notably slower. I have to stop periodically and sit on them, or warm them in my armpits. I've been wearing a scarf for two days. In the year and a half since I've been out here, this is the first time I've felt the need to wear a scarf. AND I'M INDOORS!!!

Please, send me a space heater for Christmas.

I Had a Lovely Time

This weekend was a perfect combination of productive and lazy. It started off with an introduction to another sure favorite: the Very Dirty Martini. Thanks Brooke, for calling this drink to my attention. I've always liked pickly things, and now I have a drink in which I can embrace this.

The next day, all hungover and filled with my favorite hangover cure (tomato juice, tasty!), I embarked on the many errands that have been awaiting my attention. I found wedding shoes, and undergarments. I went to IKEA and stocked up on candles for wedding decorations, and even did some Christmas shopping for my nephews. Everywhere I went seemed to be the place to be if you wanted to avoid Christmas shoppers. My day flew by with ease, until I headed back to the city and did battle with traffic. I searched for wedding jewelry with my friend Tony, discovering that my dream look would cost me as much as the budget for the entire wedding. I'll be looking for cheap knockoffs online.

As the sun set, and I was bumper to bumper with fellow Bay Areanites (?), my Christmas miracle happened. I looked to the sky and saw flurries. I approached what I saw scientifically, not quite believing what I was seeing. Were the flurries bugs, or ash? Then one fell on my window and melted. SNOW! I was so happy! Just days after remarking the length of time since I had seen snow fall, a few showered my car. Whooo Hooo! Of course, not enough fell to even stick to the road, but I was happy all the same.

It was a wonderful day.

In a Rut

I feel like all I have been blogging about is the wedding and Christmas and drinking. It's really wearing on me, to the point that I'm starting to believe all the hype. I have an alcoholic Christmas wedding problem, or is it that I'm a Christmas alcoholic bride? In any case, the doctors say it's not serious, and that come February 4th, all the symptoms will go away. Strange, though, that the Christmas part will stick that long. Maybe I can get some ointment to clear that up by the end of the month.

Great, now I'm all self-conscious about what I'm writing. I'm not going to get it right. I gotta go ______(Sing Frosty the Snowman/do a seating arrangment/spike the eggnog).

Where's the Snow?

I grew up in Colorado. I lived there for twenty four years straight. I saw snow every winter. A year and a half ago, I moved away from Colorado, and I haven't seen snow since.

I get confused. I feel like I should wake up and see snow, but it never happens. It's cold here in the bay area, but all that comes out of the sky is a veil of mist. Either that or fat blobby rain drops (no, they're not that cute), that soak up the bottoms of my pants, and find thier way in my shoes, get my socks soaked and make me miserable in general.

What season is it? They say it's winter. I see the lawn decorations for Christmas on the lawns. But, if you ask me, having a Santa sleigh pulled by reindeer just doesn't make sense without the snow. I used to go sledding every winter, and I know that when you hit a patch of mud, the sled won't go. I guess Santa is more magic than I can imagine. But magic or no, don't you think he would adjust his outfit for the weather? He's always wearing that heavy coat.

Here is my

Ode to Snow

Falling from the sky,
so slow I can catch you
on my tongue.

You whisper past
my ear.
Patter in the pile

collecting on the ground.
A blanket of individuals.
Rain is all the same;

each drop
stabs
me in the heart.

Ok, so I just made that up, and you definitely won't see that in any anthologies. Now you know why I switched to fiction.

Pray for snow in Oakland.

Nightmare on Wedding Street


Last night I had my first dream about the wedding, and I got upstaged.

Since dreams can come off as boring, I'll try to make this quick. It was the weekend of the wedding, and apparently we had some big group activity planned, which was to attend a football game. After the game, there was a big announcement about a wedding that weekend. I immediately thought they were talking about mine, but up on the stage (I know there's no stage in football), these older women in incredibly ornate wedding dresses made entrance after entrance, and lined up, and sat on chairs and smiled. Turns out those were just the women attending the wedding. Then the bride came out, wearing a copper gown with a gorgeous ivory wrap, and she was truly queen of the moment.

I was sitting in the stands in jeans and a hoodie. No so beautiful, not so queen-like.

Well, at least the worst has already happened. Unless I dream up something more horrific, because let's face it, this wasn't even that bad.

Countdown to Forever

I suddenly realized yesterday that my wedding (David's wedding, THE wedding) is six weeks away. It has very quickly come to a point where I can keep track of just how much time I have left to turn into Bridezilla. I still don't think that will happen (ok, it might, and I'll be sure to keep an electronic diary of that moment).

Getting married shouldn't feel any different than what we have now. We've been living with each other since the day we met (we move fast, eh?, actually he was subletting a room in my apartment), we've communicated every feeling we've ever felt since that time. So on February 4th, we are going to wake up and say "Hello husband," "Hello wife," and that's the only thing that will change, but not really, because we already lovingly refer to each other as Mr. and Mrs., so we won't even have that moment, but then maybe there will be a spark behind his eyes, and I will feel something different, and that will be new, and...and...and -- what? Forever. There will be the next day, and the day after that. Morning after morning of "Hello husband," "Hello wife," and there will be stuff in between, and that will be life.

Is it good? The outlook is positive. But the thought of forever is a little terrifying. And it's only six weeks away.

Ahhh...Just Sit Back And Rel--

It's my first weekend without homework in 15 weeks. At first, I made a list of all the things I need to do. Then I forgot them all.

I took a nap. And then I decided the house was so dirty I couldn't take it any more. And since no one likes to read about housecleaning, let's give it a code word --"drinking," to trick you into thinking you are reading something interesting.

I "drank" in the bathroom, I "drank" in the living room. I did a lot of "drinking" and I'm finding there are a lot of benefits to "drinking." The house looks better, I feel better, and I think I should "drink" more often. David "drinks" in the kitchen pretty often, so luckily I didn't have to "drink" in there as much. We've been letting things go around the house so much that we've got a "drinking" problem. Having a dog requires that you "drink" more than usual, and I just haven't been able to keep up. But now that I have more time off, I will try to "drink" every day.

I'd like to say that I'm sufficiently drunk, after all the "drinking" I've done tonight, but there's still a lot to be "drank" (?), and I'm getting tired. After all, "drinking" on your hands and knees would wear anyone out. There are still some other places I need to "drink," like in my bedroom. I also might take a shot at "drinking" and driving next time I'm in my car.

Great Tip for Wasting Time

If you're going to be the best time waster you can be, you first need to commit yourself to as many activities as possible. That's what I did yesterday. Even though it was the last day of the semester for me, I still went ahead and scheduled a chapter due date for December 22nd. The phrase "take a break" apparently means nothing to me. In addition, I've also been adding wedding chores, as I like to call them, to my schedule. And of course, these chores must be done next week, but they won't get done until I start panicking over them. Oh yeah, and I still go to work every day on top of that. I'm not as busy as before, but it's enough to keep me going.

So, last night, as I was enjoying a glass of wine and flipping through the channels, I discovered the most ridiculous channel ever. It's called the Reality Channel, run by Fox, so you know everything on it is going to be either inappropriate or unnecessary, but at least mildly entertaining. I saw a commercial for a show about porn stars going to London to put on a Shakespearean play. That's right -- Shakespeare + Porn Stars = Valuable Programming. It brings whole new meaning to this quote from As You Like It: "All the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts"

Finger Lickin' Weird

We really take fingers for granted. I've been thinking about mine alot, wondering if anyone has ever had the bottom segments of their fingers fused to the middle section, so all they can bend is the top section. You might as well have not bothered growing opposable thumbs at that point, they wouldn't help.

And now I'm having two problems with my fingers: one is my own fault, and the other is the weather's. My fingernails are hideously long. Okay, not so long that I have to sheath them in a special leather casing, but any minute now I'm going to gouge myself with them, and it won't be pretty. It's like I'm walking around with dull knives on the ends of my fingers, and I've always been told dull knives are more dangerous than sharp ones, which technically means I have way more to worry about than Edward Scissorhands.

The second concern of mine is that my fingers are perpetually cold. Well, it's cold outside. I've pulled out the gloves, which is sort of ridiculous considering our low temperatures have been in the 40s, while other parts of the country are forming little ice crystals around their nostrils every time they step outside. But listen here, my fingers are cold inside too. Combined with my dull knives, that makes for some very clumsy and very risky moves. I hope all my apendages survive until I can dig out the clippers.

Monday, Wha-?

This day is pummelling me. I want my weekend back.

On a brighter note, my nephew was born this morning. 5 lbs 14 oz., a little guy. His name is Nathan, with a middle name on its way any day now. My vote is for Christopher; it makes me think of the Hundred Acre Wood.

Welcome Nathan! Sorry to bring you into a world where, unfortunately, Mondays exist. But hey, you'll get used to it. And who knows, maybe you'll become the Monday Master, a guru for those of us who cannot, under our own power, get out of bed and make it to work sooner than fifteen-minutes-late to save our lives (and probably our jobs).

And so far, I see you've got it right Nathan. Babies sleep. A lot. This blogger is jealous.

Love ya kiddo!