There is no try. There is only do.

(Bonus points if you can guess who the above title is quoted from!)

I am starting to get quite anxious about returning to work next week. I’m not feeling great about the conference that we are putting on or any of the other stuff going on at work. As I may or may not have mentioned, there is a bit of turmoil going on at the Random Non-Profit and at this point it is mostly caused by the head of my department. My colleague just gave notice that she will be moving to another department at the end of the month, and getting a promotion to boot. This is such an awesome opportunity for her and quite necessary because she was very underused in our department, but I am still sad because I’m going to miss working so closely with her . . . she’s such fun and a sweetie and extremely sharp. Meanwhile, my already heavy workload is going to get unbearable, and I’m currently in crisis mode all the time as it is.

Next year is going to be a “make or break” year for me, I can just feel it. I am either going to go one way or another, and I need to make a bunch of decisions very soon which will shape which direction I am going to go. I need to follow through on some of my goals and put other ones on the back burner. The ones that may be put on the back burner are the types of things that cannot be put off too much longer or they just may not happen – in other words, if I want to have kids, I need to start working on that again, but if I do, then I probably will not be able to follow some other opportunities for a very long time. I look at the example of my mother, who was a very talented artist, who put all of that behind her when she had us kids and still has not gone back to it. Now I know that I am not my mother and things could turn out differently, but I still have that example in front of me, and it gives me pause.

Change is scary. Figuring out what you want to do is scary. Getting out of the comfortable, if annoying, rut in which you are sitting is very anxiety producing. But at some point you must get off your butt and make things happen, otherwise you are just scared and anxious all the time, with nothing to show for it. At this point, I have nothing to show for my anxieties – now I want to at least have some spectacular failures that I can point to and laugh at and say “Well, that sure didn’t work, but at least I did something!”

. . . I have to get my freaking passport and at least go to Canada or something.

. . . I have to get a new job, or at least a new position at the same place.

. . . I have to submit my writing somewhere, so at least I can get a rejection letter to show that I am putting myself out there.

. . . I have to go back to school to find my way to becoming a teacher . . . and maybe a better writer in the process.

. . . I have to make peace with who I am, so that I am not so tentative with those that I care about most.

These are not resolutions . . . resolutions are made to be broken. These are more like . . . life goals . . . things that I have to keep working through to make me become whatever I am becoming.

I have to start failing at things . . . I have to start succeeding at things . . .

I have to start doing things.

. . . and tomorrow is as good a time as any to begin.

Not a Creature Was Stirring . . .

The house this week has been so, so quiet . . . even with the two of us here together most of the time. There were so many things I had planned to do during my time off this week – read several books, reorganize the kitchen, do a bit of baking, do some research into several things I’m planning for in 2006 – but in the end, I have taken a lot of naps, played with my new laptop a bit, and just sat quietly, not doing much.

It has been a wonderful week.

What possesses us to want to get so much done in our time off? Why does it seem like such sacrilege to just want to sit and let the mind rest?

Now I always go to bed each night stating that tomorrow is the day I’m going to start on these projects . . . but then the cat wakes me up at an earlier hour than I had hoped, making me groggy and lethargic through the morning. I feed her, read the paper while eating my cereal, do a little exercising and then pop onto the computer to check e-mails. Next thing I know, it is noon. Mr. Random and I have lunch and then I get sleepy and take a nap for an hour or so. Then back on the computer to play with it. The time passes. I do some puzzles, I read the mail, Mr. Random and I talk about random things . . . you get the idea . . .

Next week, after the New Year’s holiday, the hustle and bustle begin again. I am leaving for the Random Non-Profit’s conference on the 7th, where I will be for a week, running around like a maniac. Prior to leaving, there is so much to be done at work, most of the conference materials have not been finalized, so it will be a mad dash to get everything copied and sent. I must pack . . . my goal is to take one large rolling bag, a laptop bag and my purse – nothing more. Since I am traveling solo, I don’t want to be laden down with several extra little bags – let the other folks on the team be the packrats this time!

So this week is a godsend of sorts, a time for me to not be so stressed out and frenzied. I still want to do a bit of reading though, and plan to do so as soon as I pry myself away from this shiny glowing object.

Recharging one’s battery is a good thing. I hope I get to do more of this in 2006.

What one thing would you like to do in 2006? Not a resolution, per se, but just something that you are aware of and would like to make a conscious effort to do more of . . .

Needles Falling from the Tree

Christmas has come and gone. Bummer. The days are speeding by, and I have hardly caught my breath. It is WEDNESDAY already, for goodness sake! My vacation is half over, and I don’t know where the time went . . .

How did my holiday go, you may ask? It went rather well . . . in fact, right this very second, I am typing away on one of the most awesome Christmas gifts I have ever received . . .

A brand new laptop! A shiny, tricked-out laptop, with all sorts of bells and whistles and awesome things that I would never have been able to get on my own. Mr. Random, with much help from his family, engineered this lovely holiday surprise, hiding the box in plain sight in his office at work. I was so stunned and happy and flustered when I opened the box that I just cried and cried . . . it was so awesome! Mr. Random wanted to make sure that I liked it – well, DUH! – because he said that he knew that I would have one of two reactions – either I would love it, or I would yell at him for spending so much money. I said I was incredibly happy and too stunned at the moment to yell . . . we’ll deal with that part later.

It took a while to get all set up . . . yes, all the software was on it out of the box, but I needed an internet connection to get everything activated . . . plus I also want to use the DSL line too when I am working on it at home. So on Monday, we trudged out to Staples and bought a router and extra cables and decided that we were going to set up a home network. Long story short, everything didn’t get connected until this afternoon, so here we are!

I’m hoping that this will push me to do a lot more writing and make life a bit easier if I finally do decide to go back to school in the Fall. I’ll also be able to take it to my conference two weeks and be able to keep in touch with Mr. Random (and you guys) while I am away.

Now I just have to get a new mouse and a good laptop bag. I want one of those bags that don’t look so obviously like laptop bags, but more of a nice leather tote.

What else did I get in my holiday haul?

. . . My parents gave Mr. Random and me a really nice down comforter, with a micro-suede duvet cover. It’s so soft! Yesterday, we went out and got new pillows and sheets . . . because we’ve needed new pillows and sheets for the longest time, but it’s never been a huge priority – you know how that goes . . . so long as what you have works, there’s not really any burning rush. Now our bed feels like a hotel bed, if you know what I mean. You lie on the bed and you just sink into the comforter . . . sweet!

. . . Curb Your Enthusiasm, Season 1, DVD. Mr. Random and I don’t get HBO, but we saw the show once at a friend’s house, and I loved it, so Mr. Ransom got me the DVD. I watched the first 6 episodes and I was cracking up the whole time . . . Larry David is awesome, and you can totally see where George Castanza came from . . .

. . . Two Suduko books. I do the Suduko puzzle in the WashPost every morning, so Mr. Random thought I would like more . . .

. . . A beautiful cashmere wrap . . . it’s soft, and beige and a little sparkly . . .

. . . Rachael Ray’s 30 Minute Meals. My sister, J, is as enamored with the Food Network as I am, so she thought I’d like it. She tried to find me the “365 Meals, No Repeats” book, but they were sold out . . .

. . . A Barnes and Noble gift card. Which I am going to promptly spend when I find the “365 Meals” book . . .

. . . A pair of pajamas. It’s actually a t-shirt and matching pajama pants, but looks quite comfy and will get a lot of use out of me around the house . . .

. . . A jigsaw puzzle. 500 pieces. I love jigsaw puzzles . . .

. . . A DVD set of Tracy/Hepburn movies . . . Pat and Mike, Woman of the Year, and Desk Set. Does anyone NOT love Kate? . . .

I got Mr. Random several games, one computer (Age of Empires 2) and one board (Ticket to Ride – a train-related game), 3 CDs (The White Stripes, The Gorillaz, and a guy whose name escapes me, but he’s a Hassidic Jew who does reggae rap. No, I’m not making that up . . .), Barnes and Noble gift card, some new running togs, and the usual, much needed socks and underwear.

All-in-all, a fabulous holiday has been had by us both, and while we have spent the last few days frustrated in setting up the computers and running around getting new accessories, it has been a pretty restful week so far. I am already dreading going back to work, but I am trying to push those thoughts to the back of my mind.

By the way, thanks so much for the sweet comments about my writing post . . . it came to me that day and just begged to be written - I don’t know why – and I almost just deleted it. I’m hoping the laptop encourages me to type more of these things out and not just delete them, since I will have my own space for them . . . not that I couldn’t have done it before on our home computer, since Mr. Random is always quite encouraging, but I want to take things wherever they may lead, and I am not sure where that may be . . .

A writer is one who writes

What does it mean to write? Are you a writer?

A writer is one who writes.

This you have been told by many, many people. “Stop thinking so much and actually put words to paper!”

But what if you have a lot of emotional baggage associated with writing? What if you are unsure of how to write, what to write, the grammar and punctuation, the organization and all of the other goodies that “good writing” entails.

A writer is one who writes.

What if you want to write well? What if you want to express your thoughts and feelings on paper, but you want it to sound like it sounds in your own head . . . but better? Writing is a lot of hard, hard work . . . work that you do not know if you can do.

A writer is one who writes.

You do want to do the work, though. You have things you want to get down on paper, to share with the rest of the world. You want someone to understand, to empathize, to nod in agreement. You want someone to disagree with you, to offer reasons why your logic is faulty. You want to begin a conversation.

A writer is one who writes.

But what if you do that and people are turned off by your writing . . . the thoughts aren’t developed enough, the grammar deplorable, the vocabulary childish . . .

A writer is one who writes.

What if you are constantly nagged by your own internalized perfectionism, the voice that tells you that what you are doing is not right, not enough? How do you get rid of that horrible, nagging, pervasive voice?

A writer is one who writes.

When you were small, you loved to write. You loved to make up stories. You wanted to be the next Laura Ingalls Wilder, or Charles Dickens, or Louisa May Alcott. You wanted to move others with your plots and prose as much as you were moved. You filled small notebooks with many of your stories, of damsels being left at home by sailing suitors, of orphans looking for a place in life, of girls who had big dreams.

A writer is one who writes.

But as you grew older, and as it seemed that you were getting more serious about your writing, your parents tried to dissuade you from going further. “Most writers don’t make any money! You don’t want to do that. Why don’t you go into something more stable, like business or computer programming?”

A writer is one who writes.

Since your parents made the rules and held the purse strings, you had to listen to them . . . you had to, there was no choice. You were an obedient daughter who wanted to make your parents happy, whether it made you happy or not. So you gave up the writing and focused on other things, other things that you didn’t care as much about, but you tried to care . . .

A writer is one who writes.

You tossed out all of the little notebooks, since they seemed to be useless. You were hurt and angry, but that is just the way things were. You did not know where to put your creativity, so you tried all sorts of different things, just so you could get the feeling of creation out of your system.

A writer is one who writes.

But now, many years later, you have come to know that you can’t do things to make other people happy, even though that is all you have learned and all you have experienced. You try to make baby steps in finding out who you really are. You realize that you need to go back to the beginning and sort out where you got off track.

A writer is one who writes.

To discover who you are, you need to work through your experiences, make sense of them. You need to get the words out and look at them - in cold black and white – and see where they lead. You need to learn to write again. You need to be a writer again.

A writer is one who writes.

So you are back at square one, trying to rediscover what you knew so organically when you were younger, trying not to be scared, trying not to have fear. You want to just let the words flow and enjoy them, the sound of them, how they fit together.

A writer is one who writes.

Here you sit, letting the words pour out of you. The words may not fit. The words may not make sense. But at least the words are there, and you are trying to be heard. You are writing. Not well, but you are writing because . . .

A writer is one who writes.

Festivus . . . for the Rest of Us!

December 23 is Festivus! Happy Festivus to you all!

Since that Seinfeld episode came out, the holiday has just swept the nation. Or rather, it has swept through all of us with really warped senses of humor. Did you know there are all sorts of websites on Festivus now? This is one of the many featuring the holiday: (http://www.religioustolerance.org/festivus.htm). Here’s the wikipedia post about it, even though they have the true origin of the holiday kind of wrong. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Festivus).

I love the whole idea of this. (I can be such a crank sometimes.) The stark aluminum pole, the airing of grievances (gather around the dinner table folks!), the feats of strength (which some people have turned into the playing of board games), . . . it all sounds so simple and so much fun . . . a catharsis of sorts, in which you renounce the consumerism and heavy spiritual baggage of the season and just get into the pure simplicity of getting together and being cranky human beings.

* * * * *

You know, I am just exhausted. I was originally scheduled to take today and tomorrow off, but there is so much left to do that I nixed that idea. I could really use the sleep, though. Mr. Random still has a wicked cough, and last night kept both of us awake with it. It is getting better, but the dry air was just killing him and our humidifier was acting funky. I am so unmotivated to do any of the tasks before me. Most of the Random Non-Profit has gone on vacation already. I just want the week to be over!

* * * * *

There is an amazing amount of candy at the front desk. I am trying to have some willpower here, so I am drinking about a gallon of water an hour. I’m getting plenty of exercise from all of the bathroom breaks . . .

* * * * *

The Counting Crows have a song that I think of a lot this time of year. . .

A Long December

A long December and there’s reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can’t remember the last thing that you said as you were leavin’
Now the days go by so fast
And it’s one more day up in the canyons
And it’s one more night in Hollywood
If you think that I could be forgiven...I wish you would.

The smell of hospitals in winter
And the feeling that it’s all a lot of oysters, but no pearls
All at once you look across a crowded room
To see the way that light attaches to a girl
And it’s one more day up in the canyons
And it’s one more night in Hollywood
If you think you might come to California...I think you should.

Drove up to Hillside Manor sometime after two a.m.
And talked a little while about the year
I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,
Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her
And it’s been a long December and there’s reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can’t remember all the times I tried to tell myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass
And it’s one more day up in the canyon
And it’s one more night in Hollywood
It’s been so long since I’ve seen the ocean...I guess I should.

. . . As a side note, which makes this song quite meaningful for me . . .

After Mr. Random and I had been going out for almost a year, he went back home to Southern Cal for Christmas. He was considering whether to ask me to marry him. One night, he was just driving around his hometown when this song came on. Just for the heck of it he drove to the ocean . . . hung out for a while . . . and made his decision . . .

. . . January 4th will be the 9th anniversary of our first date and the 8th anniversary of our engagement.

* * * * *

The next few days are going to get pretty hectic. My sister is coming home tomorrow, much gift-wrapping needs to be done, and I need . . . to take a few naps. Posts may be few and far between next week, since Mr. Random and I are taking a much deserved week off together.

It’s been a long December
And there’s reason to believe
That maybe this year will be better than the last . . .

I want to wish you all a very happy holiday season, no matter what – if anything – you celebrate at this time! May next year be a better one for each and every one of us.

Christmas Potluck Today

(Sing along to "Deck the Halls"!)

‘Tis the season to have potlucks,
Fa la la la la, la la la la
The company’s too cheap to spend some of its bucks
Fa la la la la, la la la la
So all bring in their three bean salads
Fa la la, la la la, la la la
And guess what casserole that one o'er there is
Fa la la la la, la la la la

Then the church has its own party
Fa la la la la, la la la la
I guess that means I should not dress tarty
Fa la la la la, la la la la
Deviled eggs and blue ambrosia
Fa la la, la la la, la la la
If you get sick, I certainly warned ya’
Fa la la la la, la la la la

Are potlucks primarily a Southern thing? After my family moved down here, my mom commented that she never went to so many potlucks all the years she lived in Philly. You have a party, you provide the food – the guests just bring themselves . . . makes total sense to me! Even if you just order a pizza or just have cheese and crackers and beer, people appreciate you trying to entertain and feed them.

Down here, it seems like you always have to bring your own food. My mom would always bring something substantial, like her homemade mac & cheese or fry up some of her yummy chicken – and the next thing you know it was all gone in five minutes, because everyone else brought random salads that even the people who brought them didn’t want to eat. One time, the hosts complained because she didn’t make a large enough batch! So after a while she stopped bringing the good stuff and started bringing simple things like a bag of chips . . . making an effort gets tiring after a while.

I’m starting to get to that point myself, although I haven’t had the lousy experiences my mom has had. For potlucks I usually either make (a) green bean casserole or (b) some sort of cheesecake.

Now my green bean casserole is slightly different from the Campbell’s recipe:
I am a little more sparing with the Fried Onions,
I use cream of chicken and mushroom soup (adds a bit more flavor),
I use FROZEN green beans, rather than canned (EWWWWWW!) – this makes the beans crisper and they usually are a nice healthy green color.
Instead of just black pepper, I also put in a little Mrs. Dash for some more flavor.

. . . So people really like my version, and actually request that I bring it. Yay!

Same deal with the cheesecakes – I always make them from scratch and do the whole long baking process. You know, one and a half hours baking in the hot over (with a pan of water at the bottom, so there is no cracking), one hour in the oven with the oven turned off, then one hour on the counter to cool a little more, then at least 8 hours in the fridge. So it is a bit of a time commitment to make one . . . you just can’t decide to make one at 10 at night, unless you really want to stay up until 4 AM. So they tend to be rather popular . . . which makes me happy, because then it is worth all of the effort.

However, this time of year . . . oy! There’s always two or three potlucks scheduled for the same five day period. There’s the church party, and other friends’ parties and work parties . . . and all the baking gets rather tiring (and expensive!) So I always think I want to hang it up and bring the bag of chips or platter of cookies . . . but then I feel so lame doing so, like I let the universe down somehow . . . I’ve really got to get a grip on that . . .

The holidays are not supposed to stress you out, but something about this time of year makes me want to give Martha a run for her money. Being sick doesn’t help much, it just makes me feel bad that I’m not doing the things that I want to do. I must accept that being sick is the Universe’s way of telling me to slow down . . . get a bit of rest . . . stop trying to do eight million things . . .

I’m trying to be laid back, Universe! I’m trying! Just stop with the darn potlucks already!

[Apprentice note for VG – Randal totally lost my love in the last 60 seconds of the show. What a snot! I was under the impression that Trump was kind of asking Randal if he (Randal) would hire her, as his apprentice. I totally believe that Rebecca would have said yes if the shoe was on the other foot, because Rebecca had so much respect for Randal. Rebecca seems destined for better things anyway. I didn’t know she was only 24? She’s certainly a lot better candidate than either Kendra or Kelly were, ugh!]

Nose Pressed Firmly to the Grindstone

I’m finally back at work today – still not feeling up to snuff, but good enough to start to tackle a few projects.

Mr. Random, on the other hand, is fully sick now and can’t talk at all. No sound comes out of his mouth except a low, guttural rasp. I’m making sure he is drinking plenty of fluids and not letting the cold settle into his chest, as was the case for me.

I am so behind, it is not funny - Funder reports are due again . . . I have to write some articles for a publication that we want to go to print in a few weeks . . . I have another project that I am supposed to be submitting chapters for, and have finished by the beginning of January . . . I have to write something to update/create a Website for my program . . . I have to complete some other documents and assemble things for our conference in January . . . . the list just goes on and on. I have a feeling I’m not going to get any rest between Christmas and New Year’s as I had hoped this year . . .

I forgot that we were supposed to bring in the goods for our “adopted” child today, but luckily the coordinator is going to hold off delivering the toys to the school until tomorrow at lunchtime. Whew! I was so upset when I had realized that I had forgotten all about it! Our Random Non-profit partners with a local elementary school each year to provide Christmas gifts for families at the school who are struggling. For the past 6 years, Mr. Random and I have sponsored a child, and have gone just bonkers buying all sorts of cool clothes, books and toys. Last year, we had a little two year old boy – you should have seen the little jumpers and socks and other teeny clothes that we bought! We also bought a bunch of little books that we hope he and his family enjoyed. This year, we have an eleven year old girl . . . this will be a bit challenging since all 11 years olds are different and it is difficult enough to buy things for people in that age group, even when you’re related to them!

I also have to bake a couple of cheesecakes this weekend – one for a party on Saturday night and one for the office party on Monday. This weekend, I also need to put together the goodie bags that Mr. Random and I usually give out at work instead of gifts. I’m feeling really overwhelmed right now, and I know that we could nix the goodie bags, but I still owe cheesecakes . . . people kind of look forward to them, and I was hoping to make a chocolate chip one that I haven’t made in while . . . they just take so darn long!

At choir practice, we always end by praying for people we think need it badly. I threw out for consideration all of those folks who are stressed and depressed at this time of year . . . I’m starting to fit into this category in a big way. (Also, last night we received a huge stack of music that we are supposed to be performing on Christmas Eve. It is a lot of familiar carols, but of course it can’t be that simple . . . we have to learn all sorts of harmony parts and descants and funky new things to throw in. In less than two weeks. Gee, no added stress there!)

Why does everything have to happen at the end of the year? Good grief!

Enough venting for one day . . . I’ll try to calm down a bit by tomorrow . . .

Turn Your Head and Cough

I have bronchitis . . . I'm getting tired of being sick, but it seems like I can't really rest . . . there is so much to do at work, and every day that I try to rest just piles more stuff for me to do by the end of the year.

I did get some rest on Saturday - didn't leave the house! - and on Sunday I went to lunch with my friend, J, at a very yummy Thai place on Route 7. Yesterday, the Random Non-Profit had the day off, due to our board meetings, so I tried to rest a bit too, but I was quite stressed out and coughing up a lung. When the coughing continued this morning, we went to the Urgent Care, where I found out I have bronchitis. I promptly came home and slept most of the afternoon.

I will miss my last ESL class of the semester, which is quite disappointing, but this was such a funky semester that I'm just glad it is over.

I hope everyone else is keeping healthy . . . hope to have better posts tomorrow!

Nodding off

I am so happy the week is over. I am almost falling asleep at my desk, so I keep shoving popcorn, Christmas candy, and whatever else I can get my hands on into my mouth to try to stay awake. The problem is that my allergies are really acting up, but I couldn’t swallow my usual allergy pill this morning . . . I have a lot of trouble swallowing pills, especially large ones, and sometimes I just cannot get them down. Instead I took a Benedryl, which is a much smaller pill, but makes me really sleepy. It was a trade off – either be miserable and stuffy, or breathe but feel incredibly tired.

Wednesday night for choir practice, my throat was really bothering me. I could barely sing through a whole song – much less have any sort of sound or breath control. This is a bad time to have my voice go all weird . . . Since I’m the only high-ish soprano, I’m often singing my part alone and people can easily tell if I’m way off . . . and a lot of Christmas songs do have these funky high descants . . . I probably sound like someone is mauling a cat somewhere . . . “Fall on your knees . . . and hear the angels’ voices . . .”

Last night, Mr. Random and I finally started doing some Holiday shopping. We bought some things for his mom, sister and uncle that we are going to ship out to them next week. Next I need to order gifts for both Grandmothers to be delivered to them before Christmas, then start shopping for Mr. Random and my family. They are last because they are so close and the stuff doesn’t have to be mailed. I have an uncle who never shops for Christmas presents until December 26 – just to catch all of the clearance sales. Everyone always called him a cheap b******, but in my older age I’m starting to appreciate his wisdom much more . . .

I highly recommend the new Diana Krall CD, Christmas Songs, if you like her music . . . I certainly do.

Apprentice note: I was kind of disappointed last night, because they let Rebecca and Randal pick their own teams. In past seasons, didn’t Trump give them a bunch of the real wackos to pick from? I was SO looking forward to the return of people like Clay, Markus, Melissa, and Toral . . . and maybe the four that got booted off that one show. My dream did come true in a way, in that they picked Mark, Josh, James . . . and Toral. Randal seems really “deer-in-the-headlights” through a lot of this, although I was just as taken aback when at dinner Rebecca said that she had already picked out her three . . . given that in past experience they didn’t really get to pick, I probably wouldn’t have thought about it either, just tried to make do with whoever I got.

I hope we get to put up the Christmas tree this weekend. Yes, we have a fake tree – we bought it last year after moving into our 3rd floor, walk-up condo. I really miss our live trees . . . Every year we would have a “leaning” tree, because we could never get the tree to fit into the stand, so we just put it in a bucket and leaned it against the wall or in the corner. It made it a lot easier to water, too. Having a leaning tree just seemed to fit us so well – kind of quirky and unconventional. It was also easier to hang ornaments and string the lights, since you didn’t have to put them in the back. I yearn for the days when we can get a proper house again (or at least something on a first floor) and load a freshly cut pine into the wagon and drag it into the house.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Porch
By Rhona McAdam

All day on the front porch of your house
which gives way to a garden of fallen stone,
a black lawn of shale, and the sea,
we have grouped and regrouped
round tables and railings and visitations
of dog with her tennis ball. Her coat is black
and spiked as an otter's; it will dry
to a slick of burnished oak when she's done.
But she drops the drooling ball again and someone hurls it
out into sky and before it has passed
the green blade of land that separates
the horizon's elements, she has flourished
down the slalom path to the point
off which my brother fell when he was two,
and dived for it. My brother's chin
was cut when my mother found him,
beached breathing on the slippery brace
of rocks unsheathed by tide
and after that this balcony was fenced.
The dog comes back and goes again.
Years later the vet tells you she
was injured on a day like this, burst her spleen
when she hit the water. But today
as always she brings the ball back and waits
for the arm's arc to point her down that path
where we ran as children, in towel capes
and swimsuits, our need for the beach
near equal to the dog's need for ball.
In her wake we return with pearls
and arrowheads, with the jawbone of a seal
and all the loam of childhood
pressed this afternoon from hand to hand
into a sphere that by nightfall rises
from the sea.

Brushes with Celebrity

I haven’t received a Secret Santa clue for today. How sad! I’ve come to depend on their vagueness to brighten my day. Hope I get one tomorrow.

My clue to my person today . . . and it was a stretch . . .

Your Secret Santa witnessed the filming of the movie, “Trading Places,” and the TV shows, “Nash Bridges” and “The West Wing.”

The backstory: When I was going to school at Doogie Howser in Philly, they filmed the outdoors of the police station scene in “Trading Places” across the street from us. I only watched for a few minutes, because I had no idea who Jamie Lee Curtis or Eddie Murphy were at that point . . . I wasn’t allowed to stay up real late, so I didn’t know that Eddie Murphy was HUGE in Saturday Night Live then . . .

Fast forward to 1997. Was in San Francisco on business, and Don Johnson and his crew were filming a scene around the corner from my hotel. I even got to take some blurry pictures of Don Johnson, wearing a kind of bright dark orange suit. Dude, the 80’s were so over at that point! . . .

Fast forward a couple of more years, I was working at an association on N Street downtown. They blocked off the whole street one morning to shoot an exterior walking scene with Rob Lowe and the guy who plays Toby (whose name I can never remember.) Rob Lowe stood right in front of us! We got to see him eating his breakfast . . . and ugh, we got to see him eating eggs with his mouth open. Eeewww!

Now I have to think of another clue . . .

It Must Be the Caffeine Making Me Antsy . . .

In the “there is a blog for anything” category, I give you what has to be the most peaceful and lovely blog I have seen: A Good Place for a Cup of Tea and a Think (http://russelldavies.typepad.com/ateaandathink/). It hasn’t been updated in a while, but the intent is lovely. I wish I could be sitting in one of these shops pictured, RIGHT NOW, with a lovely cup of chai and a good book . . . (and Merci (http://aroomsomewhere.blogspot.com/), I thought of you!)

This “War on Christmas” crap is getting on my nerves. No one is keeping anyone from celebrating any holiday any way anyone wants. What’s wrong with “Happy Holidays?” What’s wrong with acknowledging that there are other people in the world that might think differently than you and want to celebrate something else than you . . . good grief! I had actually thought things were getting better about inclusiveness this time of year . . . with everyone acknowledging the whole secular, consumerist aspect of the holiday season, leaving people free to observe or not observe whatever they wished, however they wished. But, noooo . . . people gotta beat you over the head with the religion thing. Complaining about the White House Holiday cards is just sooo stupid to me . . .

OK, I got another annoying e-mail yesterday – I should just not read my e-mails anymore, they give me such fits – this one from the pastor of the church for which I sing in the choir. I love singing in church choirs – depending on how beautiful the songs are, religious music can be most spiritually uplifting and meaningful . . . at lot of times more moving than the actual sermon . . . but that’s another story for another day.

So the pastor sends out this e-mail reminding everyone that there are going to be services on Christmas Day, since it is on a Sunday this year. OK, I knew that, no problem. However, he then goes on to browbeat all those churches that choose not to have services on Sunday – you know, because a lot of folks just like to hang out with their families on that day – and how awful that is and what kind of Christian are you if you don’t come to service that Sunday . . . blah, blah, blah . . .

So this annoyed me, because I don’t think the seriousness of whether you are a Christian or not should hinge on whether you drag yourself to church on Christmas morning. As I get older and my family ages, spending Christmas Day with my mother and father and sisters has become more and more precious to me. My youngest sister moved out of my parents’ house over the summer, so when all three sisters are at home, my parents say that they really appreciate having us all there together. I hate feeling all defensive just because I want to spend Christmas Day with my folks instead of sitting in church . . . I know I’m overreacting horribly, but I’m just getting it out there so I don’t dwell on it for too long . . .

I think I am going to wade into the whole “online shopping” thing this year. I have no idea when I am going to get to the stores, and I want to make sure that I get Mr. Random the things he would like. Part of the problem is that Mr. Random and I work at the Random Non-profit together . . . which means we drive in together, eat lunch together, pop in to each other’s offices occasionally, and drive home together. When I used to work downtown, it was so easy to nip out at lunchtime and hit Borders, Filene’s Basement and various other stores, and then store stuff in my office until I drove it home in the trunk, sneaking stuff in before Mr. Random got home. It’s hard to be sneaky when you practically see each other 24 hours a day . . . I have no idea where I’m going to hide the stuff in my office where he can’t see it, or how to get the stuff home though . . .

We have “secret santa” going on here at work, and I am at a loss for interesting clues that wouldn’t give me away. My creativity is just gone, gone, gone. I guess I could do what whoever the person who has me is doing . . . I’m sure stumped with their clues. Here they are:

Monday Clue: a picture of a lion. - I’m thinking they are either a Leo or are
into the whole Narnia thing . . .

Tuesday Clue: “I know your husband.” - What kind of clue is that? My husband’s worked here for years and years. Everybody here knows who my husband is!

Wednesday Clue: “I know that you are a nice person.” (with a smiley face at the end.) – This is a sweet one . . . I know that I try not to channel pure evil when I deal with people, so this doesn’t tell me anything either . . .

I’ll keep you apprised if I get any more clues . . . the Holiday party is the 19th, so I might get a clue every work day until then . . . Otherwise, if you can think of clues that I could give as hints for my secret person, do let me know . . . I need the help!

Hey, Jealousy . . .

(Brownie points if you can remember the band that did the title song . . . it's stuck in my head right now and I'm too lazy to look it up . . .)

You know, I am usually pretty happy with my life as it is . . . I mean, there other things that I would love to do and learn and places I would love to go to and houses I’d love to live in . . . but for the most part, I’m married to a pretty awesome guy and we aren’t on the street and we are relatively healthy, and my job isn’t that horrible.

However, sometimes there are days when things hit you the wrong way . . . and you start questioning your own choices, and the green monster of envy raises its ugly head, and you start throwing a big pity party for yourself, wailing “why not me?!?!” . . .

So, yesterday was one of those days.

First, I greeted the day with getting an e-mail from a friend of mine, saying that he and his wife just bought a lovely three level townhouse inside the Beltway, and were closing on it that day. Yay, FOK! (Friend of Kath) This was awesome news . . . they had been struggling for quite a while, my friend worked in Telecomm and was laid off, like, 5 times in the past 5 years and his wife does something very service oriented, and quite awesome, but made no money either. They have been trying to save for a house forever, so this was happy, happy news . . .

So why was I so disgruntled at the core?

Well, on Sunday, Mr. Random and I went to an open house of a townhouse development near where we live. We were really curious about what these townhouses look like inside, so we ambled over to see. The price on the thing was way beyond what we could ever realistically afford, but we just wanted to know. So we go and the place is just gorgeous. Three levels, lots of light, 3 nice sized bedrooms, 3.5 baths, a lower level which had a laundry room big enough to be a darkroom. A huge family room space. A newly renovated kitchen. The bathrooms were lovely – and the wallpaper was actually decent looking. Our cat would have had a field day running up and down the stairs. It had great flow for parties. The realtor was the nicest guy and we talked to him for a while, since we had gone through the housing market last year and could swap horror stories. If I had any kind of money, I would have bought the place on the spot.

We walk back home to our little 2 bedroom walk-up condo with the hideous green rug, and ugly kitchen and do a bit more daydreaming, and then, grumpily, go on about the rest of the day. So when we hear that our two friends bought a similar type of townhouse, it’s like . . . darn! Aren’t we losers?

Then later yesterday, I get an e-mail from a friend of mine that I hadn’t seen in a while, letting us know that he and his wife just had a little baby girl, and here are the pictures. After the initial, “What? They were pregnant?” I gushed over the pictures, forwarding them over to Mr. Random, and sent a cheerful note of congratulations to my friends, stating how gorgeous the baby was and I hoped they were doing well, yada, yada, yada.

When I got home, however . . .

My mood dropped like a stone. I was so bummed – Gee, everyone’s life’s changing for the better but ours. What the heck am I doing? We’ll never have a nice house, we don’t make that kind of money. Even if we did have a kid, we’d have to shove them in the fugly guest room with the horrid carpet. This isn’t what I want . . . blah, blah, blah . . .

At least I recognize when I'm being whiny. That's improvement, I think . . .

This is a stressful time of year and you start to reflect on what's happened and the choices you've made. I know I'm not ready to have a child, but I do want one. I know that I'm a lousy housekeeper and that it would be hell for me to maintain a larger place . . . heck, I'm hardly at home half the time, much less being Suzy Homemaker.

But sometimes, sitting in the back of your head are all the things that you aspire to, and sometimes you get impatient when you see other people with those things before you. Sometimes you don't want to go through the slog that you need to get through to get to the place where you are ready to get/have these things - you just want it now!

So you cause yourself huge ulcers coveting your neighbor's things, and stop enjoying the stuff you have. But then you wake up and realize that you aren't your neighbor, and you really don't want their life - there are so many things that go on that others don't see - and then you go back to trying to live your life the best you can with what you have.

Um, so what was the point of this post?

Gee, sometimes even I forget . . . well, I just wanted to share that we all get unhappy with the way things are, and sometimes other people's happiness triggers our own pain . . . but sometimes it takes a while to get our heads back where the need to be . . . we need to live our lives each day for ourselves and no one else.

One of my friends says that we will get what we want when the Universe knows that we are ready to fully receive it . . . stuff happens for a reason, so don't get so discouraged.

Thus ends the "cliche of the day" portion of today's post. Hope to do better tomorrow. For some reason I just had to write this all down . . .

Words Have Failled to Express . . .

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Didn’t finish NaNoWriMo this year, so I’m leaving the icon up as a reminder of my loser-dom. However, someone created a lovely “loser” icon, which Jodi at Jodiferous is featuring on the Dec 1 post on her blog. (http://www.jodiferous.com/)

However, I have resolved to write more in the upcoming year. I actually almost submitted a poem I wrote to The Sun magazine, but chickened out at the last minute. The poem wrote itself, I had very little to do with it . . . I was going through a very sad time, and the poem sat in my head, just wanting to get put on paper. Then once it was there, it felt like a weight had lifted from my soul. It is very rare that writing does that for me, but it does happen . . . and is starting to happen again. It is scary, feeling that much emotion and trying to express it . . . and sometimes I am afraid of how others may interpret it . . . but I know I should do it anyway . . .

My ESL semester is coming to an end . . . the last class is on December 13^th. This was a very interesting semester – it didn’t go quite the way that I had hoped – but I had a core of 5 very engaged, curious students who asked great questions and always wanted to go the extra step. Last week, we did a lot of work on past tense verbs, regular and irregular, and pronunciation. They seemed quite baffled by it all, since you know there really is no rhyme or reason to how English works, so we had a very interesting discussion where I told my students that the most important thing that they could do to improve their English is to listen to as much English being spoken as they can, and for the many words in English that sound the same and have different meanings, what they have to go on is the CONTEXT of what is being said. It will take a while to understand everything, but their patience will be rewarded. There was quite a bit of attendance drop off this semester, and I wasn’t as good about following up with those who disappeared. The semester started so chaotically, I never really got into the comfortable groove that I needed to be in . . . I hope next semester runs much more smoothly.

Apprentice recap: I only saw the second half, but that’s all you really need to see anyway. Am so happy that Randal and Rebecca won, and am so glad that Alla got fired . . . for a second it looked like she might hang on, and I thought that she was getting WAY too hardcore, ruthless to stay in contention. Besides, what was up with those outfits that they were wearing at the Microsoft presentation? They weren’t going to a beach party . . . and their ad was awful - way too many tiny words, and too many screen shots, which always tend to freak people out and keep you from wanting to actually use the software . . .

I am glad the holiday season is here . . . I am one of those annoying folks who actually likes the music of the season, so sue me. Such beautiful songs . . . my favorites are “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” and “Gabriel’s Message” – yes, I know they are kind of obscure ones but there is something so haunting and beautiful in them both. Hoping to get the new Diana Krall Christmas album sometime real soon . . . it is really sad that there is such a short shelf life for listening to Holiday music – if I could, I would play my Harry Connick Jr, Ray Charles, and Ella Fitzgerald Christmas albums all year round . . .

I’d love to know – What are your own favorite holiday songs?

Everyone have a lovely weekend . . . I’ll leave you with this:

Sand

By Patty Seyburn

It's not mine

but I should have seen it coming —

the gradual pulverizing — you know,

eventually it will all disappear,

as will you.

I did not mean for everything

to get smaller.

I did not mean for the rich, richer

and the poor, poorer,

nor for everything to be fair

though my translators

bandy about "justice" and "righteousness"

with abandon

as though words were meant to correlate to thoughts.

As though ideas matter.

And things matter.

Do dunes compensate?

I did not invent intent.

You did.

And the way indented footprints disappear

on the ocean's arrival?

That was yours, too.

How eloquent.