Christmas A Go-Go

The last of the packages has arrived and I would like to thank everyone for their gifts. You all rock! And I love the bag Jenny made, it's multicolored and fuzzy and a little crazy and has a book signed by Chris Baty (chrisbaty!) inside. i love it. And Clare sent me the best smelling soap, I mean the best smelling. I'm enchanted by the foot scrub. And I got a fancy jewelry box from Natalie and a Fortune Cat (mo-nee-neko?). And I got a nifty looking book from Melanie, which I started to read already. It's cool. Andy got me a fancy Kitchen Aid stand mixer. I had to make a batch of cookies immediately with my new toy and the cookies were deicious!

Christmas, of course, is not about presents but about spending time with loved ones, blah blah blah. Enough lip service. I love prezzies. Everyone does. And thank you for the wonderful ones I received this year.

Fuck it's cold!

Today the temperature in Philly rose to a balmy 22 Farenhiet. And in the morning when it was 9 degrees, there was a cheery layer of ice on my car. Grrrr. Pardon me, Brrrr.

People with broken heaters called all day. Not much we could do there but refer them to the Heater Hotline, which I'm sure was doing a blockbuster business. I had clients call because they had no food so I ran out boxes of emergency food and blankets, for good measure. It was an exciting, cold, cold, fucking cold day.

Rick called as I got home. He was on his way to clean up a gangland style triple homicide but wanted to get my mailing address first. I said, "No one has ever quite said that to me before. Thank you."

Checked out Rant Your Writing to peek in on the status of my short story, Tempus Fugit, only to see that 15 people have viewed it but not one of them could be bothered to write anything. What's up with that? Is it perfect? Must be. That's the only conclusion I can draw.

To sum: my heater is working *knock wood*, there's plenty of food in my pantry, and Andy and I are getting something in the mail from Rick, and Rate Your Writing can't actually be bothered to rate my writing.

Meanwhile, Back at the Krispy Kreme

I'm driving back from my home vivist (which went lovely) and I have to pee so bad I'm seeing yellow. There are no public bathrooms anywhere in Philadelphia so I'm pretty much screwed. I suck it in and drive to the Krispy Kreme on Cottman Ave.

Once there, I purchase a small hot tea and a doughnut because it's just not right to use the facilities and leave. Krispy Kreme has a beautiful, clean bathroom and deserve my money.

I'm drinking my tea and listening to the music. It seemed to be a Beatles version on Let It Snow. Could it really be the Beatles? Sounds like them. How come I haven't heard this before? I should try to find it. Then Feliz Navidad comes on. I just can't resist this song, it's pure joy sung by Julio Ingelsias.

At the exact moment Julio started to sing, I and this blue eyed freckled boy started singing, too. "Feliz navidad!" Then we looked at each other in embaressment. Kindred spirits, me and this freckled boy who was cutting class. I started laughing, the whole situation was too funny.

A Retraction

As Clare rightly pointed out, Andy doesn't actually celebrate Christmas and perhaps he fails to realize how important it is to me to haul in a dead (or plastic) tree annually, decorate it like the Queen of Sheba and stash prezzies underneath. It's morbid and weird but very important.

And if I happen to stumble across a tiny fiber optic tree (and it needn't be pink) suitable for placing on top a filing cabinet, it's mine! Now I have an excuse for dropping in on the Christmas decoration stores.

Nano Withdrawl and Psuedo Trees

So I have loads of free time. Never knew before. All weekend I kept wandering around thinking I ought to be doing something constructive but there was nothing! Well, only cleaning but I didn't want to do that, so it doesn't count.

After taking a few well earned vacation days from my computer, I'm rested and wanting to do something. Create. Write. Paint a room, something, anything! I now realize how much I MISS Nanowrimo. Clare calls it the post-nano blues. I've got 'em, too.

What about rewriting? Well, Chris Baty (it's one word when I say it: chrisbaty) says to let it rest a bit before rewriting. Fine. I guess I'll start rewriting those previous year novels that I never seemed to get around to rewriting.

Did do most of the prezzie hunting on the weekend. Took Andy to the mall, let him carry all the bags. And most of the purchasing. Men are handy that way. :) All that's left is to get niftly little treats to stuff in Omouse and Athene's packages. Verve's is already wrapped and waiting under the close approximation of a christmas tree, so don't bother asking.

Oh, the tree. Andy wouldn't let me put up a tree this year, the Scrooge. Says there's no room. Says he feels claustrophobic. Whiny baby. So I snidely asked if he didn't feel too claustrophobic, could I still put up decorations? Sure.

So I drapped the filing cabinet with the tree skit and set the angel on a little base made from garland. Hung some decorations around. It's a close approxiamation of a tree. I sang, "Oh, psuedo tree, of psuedo tree..." Hrothgar immediately climbed under, guarding the Cave of Christmas, as is his right and responsibilty.

I think Andy felt like a bit of a jerk for not letting me set up the tree, as he should.