I wish...

I wish I could type music using the Roman alphabet.
I wish I could spell the taste of wine.
I wish I could articulate the way the dying light is filtering through the wind-tossed, blue lace curtains and making patterns on the wall by my television.
I wish I could write how that cold wind smells
or how it feels to sit here right now as me.

Today, I Write

I've been trying to write more lately. This aspiration has instead lead to more house cleaning, more cooking, more painting and more web-browsing. But not today. Well, not tonight. Right now I'm making bean soup and doing laundry and tending my plants, and generally avoiding my notebook and keyboard as much as possible. But tonight, once the child is tucked in bed, I will make myself a white wine cocktail in a mason jar, I will blast the new album I downloaded yesterday, and I will write.

I can't sleep...

Sleep has been eluding me lately. I get in bed and I lie there, staring at the shadows cast by Ellie's Tinkerbell night light on the other side of the bed. The child kicks me, snorts in her sleep, wiggles her toes against my thigh. I sigh. I start singing "Who Needs Sleep" by the Bare Naked Ladies... sure, I'm "never gonna get it".

Then, last night, I took some melatonin, avoided alcohol and caffeine, climbed into bed at a reasonable hour, and slept. Slept for ten hours. And it was glorious.

But now it's almost one and I'm sipping a glass of wine and wondering if I'll ever hit the right balance. I'm thankful tomorrow is Saturday.

Five Things That Fill Me With Child-Like Joy at Christmas

1. Spending a day with my daddy and my sister (and now my daughter), in which we cook something delicious. It doesn't matter what as long as it can be something that reminds my dad about his childhood. This year he roasted lamb & vegetables, made potatoes and gravy and stuffing. My sister made her traditional non-traditional smorgasbord of deliciousness, which included brie cheese, fresh seafood, veggies and sauces, toasted breads, smoked salmon, crackers and olives. Ellie and I had already produced an abundance of cookies and cupcakes. We spiked egg-nog and drank some delicious local ale, too. Cooking, snacking, just spending all day at home with those I love the most - that fills me with joy.


2. The Nutcracker Ballet. I used to watch a video of this ballet obsessively when I was my daughter's age. If you've ever seen a three-year-old watch a movie, you know what I mean - as soon as the video is over, you rewind and start it again. Even just hearing a few bars of the amazing Tchaicovsky score makes me stop dead in my tracks and smile. I effing love it!





3. Christmas movies. It's a Wonderful Life, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Holiday Inn and White Christmas, Rudolph, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, the Mickey Mouse version (and any other version) of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, A Christmas Story, Miracle on 34th St (either version), Charlie Brown Christmas... almost any of them. They make me feel like a little kid.


4. The David Bowie/ Bing Crosby video. You know what I'm talking about!





5. Watching my daughter open presents. That's a new one, I guess, but hot damn, it fills me with joy. Watching her face light up as she realizes what she's holding in her hands. Watching her smile and be amazed. In fact, let's add "watching my daughter talk about santa" to this one. She believe so heartily and tells amazing stories. I cannot wait to see her face when she walks downstairs to a full stocking and new amazing toys in the morning. She's worth getting up before the sun to watch her open presents. I can live vicariously through her, now that I'm a single mama who doesn't get much in the way of gifts. But I don't usually mind so much.

Just being with my baby, taking some time off of work, indulging in delicacies of the season, getting sappy over Bing Crosby and claymation movies. Christmas is amazing. I tear up just thinking about it sometimes.


Merry Christmas everyone. (And by Christmas, I definitely mean Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, Festivus, or any other family/personal/religious/secular traditions you have!)

Time to Think Aloud Again

Well, it looks like it's time for me to spend another lunch (half) hour writing something that ends up profound or profoundly stupid - depending on my mood. I don't feel like the most thoughtful nor the most entertaining person right now. But, I also feel like I need an outlet for ... well, for the something that sits in my chest and makes me feel odd and distant this past week.

Let me start with a simple statement: Life is good. I know it to be true. I'm steadily employed, with a place to call home and the most amazing child who ever walked the earth to share it with. I may have a small pool of friends, but the people who swim there are some of the kindest, smartest, most inspiring human beings I could ever ask to know. And, to top it off, I've got this amazing fellow who wants to spend time with me even when I'm fully clothed. (That was obviously a joke - we're always naked.)

But, even though life is spectacularly, grandly, fascinatingly, stupendously great, this holiday is a lot harder on me than I thought it would be. I've always tried to play this stuff off - "ohh yeah, no problem, I don't need anyone!" I mean, obviously, I love my family and I know they love me, but I like to pretend that I'm so strong, so impenetrable that something as mundane as being away from my family on Christmas can't affect me. And that, my friends, is complete and utter bullshit.

I'm sad. Really sad. I'm so sad about not seeing my daddy and my sister this week that I've been breaking out into spontaneous tears at the slightest little nothing. Add on the fact that my daughter's spending most of Christmas day with her dad and his family, and I'm pretty much done pretending it's okay (stick a fork in me.)

But, what's important (and difficult) for me to remember is that this sadness - it comes from love. It comes from loving people and being loved back, and missing those people. I need to remember that to have a heavy heart is to have a full heart. To miss people is to love them. And that's what really matters on Christmas, right? Love. (Even when it's long-distance.)