Upcoming

I have several projects in the works. I hope I can make them ALL come to fruition, not typical Johanna fashion where it's half started, half finished, forgotten.

*Number 1*
Ladylike Ladies Night
A party with ladies in which we will visit the UMFA, have a classy dinner, finishing with card playing and cocktails at my place. Do you think it's too much to ask guests to wear gloves, a day hat, and a long skirt -- a la Downton Abbey?

*Number 2*
Christmas Preparedness!
I am notoriously horrible at preparing for Christmas -- SO this year I am all about the online shopping. I already have several items waiting in my cart, to be ordered en masse (EARLY mind you) and then I can spend weeks beautifully gift wrapping presents for loved ones. I also am making my papa a blanket for Christmas so I've promised myself I will devote Sunday, Monday, and Wednesday evenings to working on it. Don't forget decorations: they'll be up by the 1st! I have the entire last week of November (after the Thanksgiving madness) to purchase and decorate. Ta da.

*Number 3*
Etsy Shop
This may take me a little longer ... and I'm allowing myself to say that this project might bleed into next year ... but I am starting an Etsy shop! The shop will have beautiful doodles of flowers hand-doodled by moi and then made unique and beautiful with watercolors. I will have stationery, personalization available, and wall art. I've been thinking about it for a while and I'm very excited to see if anything sells. My MBA program is robbing me of all creativity; gotta amp up the left side of my brain.

*Number 4*
Fabulous Holiday Party
Nothing says fun like the holidays. So of course you must have a fabulous party. I want to have lots of embarassing games, and I know white elephant can be so lame, but with my group of friends I think it will be hilarious. Good food, lots of drinks, and warm company. Love it. Just what everyone needs to survive the Christmas season.

From Beyond

I cried on my lunch break today.

I was eating a grapefruit, carefully extracting each segment and then sucking out as much juice and pulp as possible, and listening to a 'This American Life' podcast from a few years ago. The stories on this episode were about parents trying to impart wisdom on their children and how best to get that child to remember. The first story was about a young woman who's mother passed away from cancer. The mother knew she was going to die and she wondered how she could make her daughter remember her, how to make her know how much she loved her. So she decides to write her daughter letters, to be given by her husband on birthdays and her wedding day. These letters obviously were very emotional for the daughter. She feels love from her mother, she feels guilty that she has disappointed her mother for leaving the Mormon church, she feels inspired by the encouragement her mother writes.

In short, this could have been me and my mom.

And as the story came to an end I found myself crying over my grapefruit. Just recently, we had a scare that my mom's leukemia was taking a turn for the worse, and I ran through the mental preparations for death and funerals and life-after-mom. It's something I've done many many times. She's had leukemia for over half my life now. She was diagnosed when I was around twelve and intially they told her she had six to nine months to live. I don't remember how I felt then. Was I scared? Was I sad? Did I cry? I must have done all those things but they are so distant and I've felt those same things so many times, that those first feelings get lost in the wash. She's had many scares, many times when we were on the "last chance" and after living with that for seventeen years -- you start to wonder how many chances you have left. How many lunches you have together. How many phone calls remain. Looming death does strange things long term. You simultaneously hold your breath and move on. You take things for granted. You cherish stupid things. You wait.

But during all this waiting we've been doing, life has been happening. And I've grown into one of those cliched daughters that starts saying, "Mom really knew her shit." I realize now that every.single.thing my mom did for me or said to me, magically composed a Johanna over the years. My mother is one of those incredible people that loves so fiercely, it's completely encompassing. I have so many memories of her, vivid, vivid memories, that she will never die for me. And it's been a comfort to know that even when she passes on to whatever is after this, she was such a strong person that she left a massive imprint on my life, on my world. She is larger than life -- therefore, she is capable of surpassing death.

Love you, Mom.

Sisters-in-Law

Why I'm thankful for my sisters-in-law ...

• Bluntness is a good thing. It's rarely taken personally and we joke about weird things we all do.
• We're sort of the same size. It's cute.
• They are not ego maniacs about their kids.
• Sometimes they ask me for advice and it makes me feel special. Like when Jen calls to ask if backpacks are still stylish or if campus parking is enforced on the weekends.
• Tasha always has a camera. This is awesome because I never have one and even if I do I forget to take pictures. But Tasha always remembers and makes them fantastic.
• Family events are super chill.
• They like the puppy and indulge our obsession with her.
• They love their dad and rely on him. It melts my heart.
• We all like Costco!
• I like to hug them -- for two reasons: 1) it makes them feel sort of awkward. 2) I like to hug them.
• They have funny stories about growing up together. Like the burning hot spaghetti Os and the road trip in Arizona and the nintendo remote and "I'm not Tasha, I'm Breck."
• It amuses me that they were fat babies.
• We actually like each other.

Done!

What we accomplished today:

1. Tom swept and cleaned floors
2. contained blankets in nice new basket
3. gave the puppy a bath
4. cleaned the puppy's ears
5. Tom cleaned the toilet/bathtub/mirror
6. cleaned the bathroom sink, including surrounding sink accessories i.e., soap dispenser, toothbrush holder, q-tip jar, and mini-mirror
7. planned Monday dinner
8. scored 9 out of 10 on my accounting quiz
9. studied for Thursday's accounting midterm
10. bought puppy food
11. watched 3 or 4 episodes of The Sopranos
12. ate tomato soup
13. went to lunch with mom and dad
14. stopped @ Costco for cleaning wipes, laundry detergent, and avocados
15. took a nap

I love productive yet relaxing days.

Boise Weekend Recap

1. Excellent driving time -- 4.25 hours -- and no speeding ticket
2. Tom read 2/3 of Harry Potter Book 2, all of 3, and 200 pages of 4
3. Mom and Dad got lost on the way to the hotel
4. Uncle Alan had the flu
5. My little brother can swim all by himself in the pool
6. But he swallowed a lot of water and got kinda sick
7. We listened to some great live music
8. We took a walk by the beautiful riverside
9. The bar gave us 3 free drinks
10. Ate breakfast at an adorable cafe called The Egg Factory
11. Met a very friendly dog who drove a taxi
12. Visited with loved ones
13. Enjoyed our mini-getaway

A Thought

Sometimes it's so hard to hold one's tongue,

never knowing how a misplaced phrase will be taken,

never wanting to offend.

But I can't help but wonder if the

world would be better with a bit more

bluntness

and

directness.

Would we fill up with hate

Or would we start to treat each other

with MORE love

because we knew how much our

actions or words

hurt the people close to us

because they didn't try to spare our feelings

and told us exactly how those words made them feel?

What is honesty worth?

A List of Things You Should Never Do to Your Face

Look what my sister-in-law did.
And it inspired this list.

1. Never shave anything on your face. And I mean anything -- not sideburns, not mustaches, not those couple-of-chin-hairs. You're a girl and that means NO five o'clock shadows or stubble. This also means that you will have to use depilatory cream, wax, pluck, or laser hair removal. And if you have some facial hair that's bothering you, don't be afraid to nix it in the appropriate manner. And don't be afraid to talk about it. We are mammals, after all.

2. Never over pluck your eyebrows. Better to have a few stray hairs than to look like an eyebrowless freak. You want to have brows that fit your face, meaning as close to natural as possible, just cleaned up around the edges. When in doubt, see an aesthetician for an initial "shaping" and then you can just maintain it. Plus, as we age our eyebrows become thinner and they won't bounce back from a vigorous sprucing as they do now. Remember your granny's penciled on eyebrows? Someday that could be you ... if you over do it.

3. Never sleep on your face. The human head can weigh as much as 12 pounds. Ask yourself: would you lay a 12 pound weight on your face? Of course not; that's a sure way to wrinkle yourself up during beauty sleep. But if you find yourself constantly waking up smooshing some part of your face, you should invest in a satin pillowcase. The smoothness will help eliminate waking up with angry red marks on your face.

4. Never leave without schmearing some SPF on your pretty face ... and really, that SPF should be in your moisturizer ... and you should be using that moisturizer at least every day. Nothing damages skin like sun. Do you really want to look, at forty, like a handbag and hate yourself? Or do you want to look like Nicole Kidman at forty? Stay away from sun damage. Protect your face. I can't say it enough. Sure, it's fun to get tan and look like you're just so carefree and loving life. Well you won't be loving your cracked old lady face in 10 years if you keep doing that shit. We're going for life long beauty, not just beauty when we're young and our faces can take the heat.

5. Never "invest" in permanent makeup. Makeup is supposed to make you up; it is NOT a permanent fixture, it's a fashion statement. Your face is your face, flaws and all. It is beautiful and unique to you. Don't screw it all up by adding something that doesn't belong. And remember, what is once in fashion can be out just as quickly. You don't want to be stuck with eyeliner and look "soooo 2011."

That's my advice.
And while we're at it, I challenge each of you to go an entire week without wearing any makeup.
Because something you should ALWAYS do is show off your au naturale beauty.

Somewhere Out There

Somewhere in this world I have another mother. And every once in a great while, I think of her.

Mother's Day is one of those days.

Adoption is one of the greatest things a human being can do. It can also go unappreciated. I know several adoptees who feel anger towards their birth family and irritation with their adoptive family, as if their adoptive family can do nothing right by them because they are not of blood relation. My mom (the one I call mom, the one I love, the only one I know) is as good as or better than most moms I know. She raised me so well; I'm not sure how she did it. Somehow she was able to give me a childhood filled with endless hours of imaginative play, as well as build my adult socialization skills, making it possible for me to enjoy being a kid and transform into a successful adult. She also instilled me with a strong sense of self. She let me dress myself even when I looked ridiculous. She was able to separate herself from me enough to let me become my own individual. We like different things and some things we both enjoy. She respected our differences and encouraged me to work hard at anything I pursued. She showed me that life is hard so you have to push back even more to succeed. And best of all, she showed me that love is not about blood, it's about love.

My other mother, the one who gave me birth, was able to give me a fantastic life by giving me away. I am forever thankful to her. I feel no connection to her; just an intense benevolence when I think about the happiness in my own life because of her sacrifice. She probably doesn't think of me often, and that's okay. I want her to be happy because in reality, I have lost nothing. I have simply lived another life. And I am happy.

Happy Mother's Day.

Where O Where

Where have I been? Well, I've been busy. As you know, my birthday was Monday the 19th. Here's what's happened since:

• Shopping excursion with Mr. Tom which resulted in some great finds for him and me, most especially, my nude heels. Ultra fab.
• Bad headache which made me miss ballet.
• Discovered a yummy Thai restaurant close to home.
• Learned my new job ... which I love.
• Got a mani-pedi. The pedicure was great, as always; I won't be getting a manicure again. Apparently I hate it when other people work on my hands. Weird.
• Went to Cass's and Michael's wedding, which was beautiful.
• Went to a birthday party.
• Went to lunch @ Thaifoon with my sister-in-law. Yum-O.
• Bought the most wonderful headband.
• Mom made me a yummy birthday dinner and cake.
• The Cowboy Brothers came in 1st on Amazing Race.
• I bought a pink iron.
• The puppy barked at the ironing board. Hilarious.

And now I'm busy with work and finding a new apartment. Where does time go?

A Charmed Life

Today was possibly the best Monday in the history of Mondays.

It started out early early in the morning. On Sunday night we tried to make a frozen lasagna; we set the oven, we set the timer, we went upstairs to veg out. Ding ding! And then downstairs for some yummy eats ... oh, but we forgot to turn on the oven. So now we wait for another TWO hours. In the meantime we enjoy a glass of wine and watch 'Mallrats' (never before seen in our lifetime) and as Sunday passes into Monday, we enjoy our lasagna in bed together. Before we go to sleep, Tom wishes me a happy birthday.

3 hours later, I wake up to go to work. Time to start my new and improved job. Can I just say: I am going to love it. Best job ever. My friends helped me celebrate my birthday with some treats and a 24 pack of Diet Coke. Friends at work make work survivable.

Then it's time to hop in my sunny but old car. I love the smell of the old car on hot days. It reminds me of the first time Tom and I took it out for a ride. We rolled down the windows and drove fast on deserted roads. Plus, the car's evil spirits disappear when the sun comes out; no squeaking, no squealing, no scraping of windshields. I stopped by the PO Box to pick up my newly arrived leotards (hooray!) and chuckled to myself at the jam packed PO Box ... they know I work for the Postal Service and must hate me. My new InStyle is here and 3 Pottery Barn catalogues.

And then I arrive at my mom and dad's house. My mom is sitting outside on a lawn chair and she waves to me as I drive up. The dogs are running around with my puppy. Dad joins us, sitting right on the grass and playing with the dogs. I'm worried my dog will overheat and DIE from chasing the dogs, so I get her a few ice cubes and we all laugh at how she collapses into the cool grass. My family wishes me a happy birthday, hugs all around, before I leave for home.

Ballet later tonight.

Life is good.
Life is happy.
Life is simply wonderful.

Getting What You Want

Yeah, let's talk about being happy. Let's talk about what it means to "get what you want" and the struggle to get. Let's talk about materialism, in all its glory, and let's talk about the meaning of life.

I will open the discussion.

I ate expired soup today. Why was it expired? I have no idea -- apparently when you stuff your face with anything and everything for a two month period you skip over 100 calorie soup. Then it just sits in your pantry and goes bad. But I ate the soup, and I ate it with the looming date of November 29th 2009 heavy in my belly, and I started thinking about my life. I have so much food in my house that we literally NEVER run out. Even when we have "nothing to eat" there is PLENTY to eat. Plenty. This abundance of food makes me ponder the relevance of being on a diet, because to me, being on a diet is essentially waste. I eat smaller portions, true, but I also have to let rampant amounts of food go bad because I just didn't have the caloric allowance to eat that cantaloupe or eggplant or cheese pizza. And apparently, 100 calorie soup.

What is the point of dieting, anyway? I'm a small person. I look fairly decent clothed and not too scary naked. But to our current society "being on a diet" is like saying "I'm cool." Because it means you have self control and a life good enough that you can complain about eating TOO much. And in my mind dieting is synonymous with materialism. Even though you're doing the exact opposite (saying "no more" as opposed to gathering more and more objects) you are showing a certain lavishness, a certain type of fabulosity that only translates to being thin=more clothes=fashionable. It's a strange cycle that in a natural world could not exist but we live in a world with 9 year old twinkies and cheese from a can and diabolical corn breakdowns.

I'll tell you why I diet. Because I want to be thin and because I want to be healthy. Way healthier than is really necessary for my desk job, but nevertheless, I strive towards seeing a beautiful model-thin self in the mirror. This is not to say that I'm not happy with myself; I am. I'm truly thrilled with the way I turned out. I was a very insecure tween but somehow I blossomed and never looked back. I learned at a young age that mistakes were forgivable and that changes could be made and you could rise triumphant as whatever you wanted. I accept my flaws as challenges -- something to continuously strive to make better. And also, something to laugh about with my friends and commiserate with them. Flaws, after all, make us human and not divine. Who wants to be perfect? It's probably dreadfully boring. What do you DO each day if you can't work towards a better life and a better self? And it's fun to use your inner-eye and speculate on the future; the future can't be different or better if everything is already Utopian.

But when does the "fun" striving-for-change switch to "my life isn't good enough" and crushing waves of inadequacy? I'm not really sure. I'll be sure to let you all know when I get there. But I can see how it is easy to start thinking more about the getting and not about the here and now. Life, to me, is a two act play happening simultaneously. Act One is now, Act Two is the future. You can't enjoy the story, the journey, the plot, unless you watch Act One -- because otherwise you won't know what the fuck is going on. You won't know the characters, you won't understand their development, you won't, basically, like the show. And if the show is YOUR LIFE ... don't you want to like it? So in order to like it you've got to watch Act One.

My Act One consists of struggling with my weight and my puppy and my marriage and ballet and my career and my family and my mind and my writing and ... so many things. But. The point is -- I'm enjoying the NOW and looking forward to the future, the impossibly bright and hopeful future that will be everything it's supposed to be if I can just sit still through Act One. So I'm not going to become too bogged down by my inadequacies, and I'm not going to obsess too much about the sugar cookie I ate for breakfast yesterday, and I'm not going to worry about the job I don't have and the money I don't make, and I'm not going to stress about the people that don't like me.

Scarlett said it best: "I'll think about that tomorrow."

And today I'll think about all the good things in my life:

A family I love,

My husband and best friend rolled into one,

A puppy to cuddle,

Friends I can rely on,

New challenges,

And a full pantry.

Week in Review

1. Found out I didn't get the promotion -- but that's okay.
2. Finished ALL the laundry.
3. Looked fabulous *almost* every day.
4. Ate too much -- must do better.
5. Wrote too little -- must do better.
6. Finished getting over my annoying cold.
7. Bought the cutest rice cooker.
8. Ran errands for my mom -- that made me feel young again.
9. Danced the night away.
10. Celebrated being in love.

The Twenty Seventh

Today is my dad's 59th birthday.
To celebrate, we're going to their house for cake, ice cream, and dinner.
Not in that order.

For dinner I'm making cheesy spinach enchiladas and yummy cowboy caviar.
Mom is making the cake.
I bought a pint of personal mint chip ice cream for my dad.
Everyone else gets heavenly hash.

Happy birthday, Dad.
Love to you.

Generations

I woke up this morning thinking about my grandparents. Perhaps this was because I was talking to my mom about my uncle possibly having Parkinson's, like my grandma did. But anyway.

I dreamed of them.

My grandma's name was Rose. I never knew her. She is the person my middle name is named after. She became crippled by Parkinson's by the time I was old enough to remember her. My first memory of her disease is when their car broke down. I was perhaps 7 or 8 and she had to drive. She was nervous because already her brain was not firing as quickly as it should have been and she was worried about her response time while driving.

My grandpa's name was Harold. I loved him more than he or I or anyone will ever know. So often I try to write about him but the words sounds hollow and artificial; contrived somehow. I guess this is just one of the weaknesses of human language. He had strong hands. He was in the army during WWII and those events made up the most interesting part of his life, I think. As he grew older he talked a lot about what happened in the war. It was the only time he ventured out of the country. He loved to go camping. And he loved me.

I awoke thinking about both of them. Was I dreaming about them? Was my mind just wandering in the early hours of sleep? I'm not sure. All I know is that I woke up surrounded by my memories of them. How well does a grandchild ever know their grandparents? If lucky, perhaps a little. I knew mine only in the basest of senses; grandchild to grandparent. I never knew them well, as adults, as their true selves. But maybe that's the best. You never know each others' flaws. You just love and love and love.

They used to take me camping. I mean, the whole family would go, but they would sometimes steal me away a couple days early.

I remember Grandma making breakfast in the trailer. The mountain sunshine seeped through the window across the table. She used the countertops as makeshift crutches. Grandpa would come in and we would share a cup of Pero. He liked his with milk and sugar. They had a blue plastic sugar bowl.

I remember singing the oldies with Grandpa. He had a leather briefcase that was made to hold cassettes, and his collection was extensive. I would pick out a tape and we would sing all the songs we knew. Sometimes he would fall asleep in the lazy chair and Grandma would point at him and laugh in her gentle way.

I remember how strong his hands were. He would lift Grandma from sitting. He would pick her up when she fell. He could wring out almost every drop of water from a washrag.

I remember driving with them in the cab of the truck. Grandma called him Pa. She kept a bag of hard candy in the glovebox; root beer barrels, cinnamon rounds, butterscotch. Every couple of hours she would pass him one -- to keep him awake.

I remember Grandma used to do word searches. I still love them, probably because of her.

I don't know if they had a happy marriage. I only know they were happy. There is a picture of the two of them, I don't know who took it. They are in the mountains, no doubt camping. Grandpa is driving a dirt bike with Grandma, her arm raised in greeting behind him on the seat. Did they love each other? I only know that Grandpa took care of her, as her speech left, as her hands shook, as she lost the ability to walk and bathe and could barely eat. He kept her close to him for as long as possible. Beside her open casket he said, "I wish I could pick her up and take her home." Are they in heaven? The only heaven I know is in my heart. And they are there. And we are together.

I miss them every year. Maybe more, maybe less. When my grandfather became ill, I cried every night he was in the hospital. I lie awake, my hand on my aching heart, grateful for my husband's warm body next to mine, tears streaming down the sides of my face. Splashing onto the pillow. I remember him lying in the hospital bed, dying. He whispers to me and to Tom, individually, that he loves us -- lucid to the very end. His last words to us. His strong hands holding ours. I will never see him again. I will never hear his voice again. But I am so lucky to have been loved so perfectly.

Perfection

Bonjour, Marie Antoinette.

You are perfectly lovely.

You seem to have been made

just for us.

Out and About

Lots of goings on at our house today:

• Lunch with college roommate
• Niece's birthday get-together
• Dinner with out-of-town childhood friend
• Late-night flick with work buddies

Hopefully I will have time for a quick cat nap...Tom asked me why I booked so much stuff on one day -- but honestly, everything just sort of fell into place this way. It will be a day of catching up with loved ones, gossip, reminiscing, and fun. What better way to spend the day?

Hilarity in Random Places

What follows is a totally benign conversation between me, my husband, and my sister-in-law on MSN messenger. I was on the laptop and he was at the desktop but we were in the same room. Tasha was at her own house.

Tasha says:
Kellie is going to come down around noon tomorrow so we can go sledding if anyone wants to come
Johanna says:
like, at your dad's?
Tasha says:
or at a real place, cause it was warm and Dad said his hill is deteriorating quickly
Tom says:
penis
Johanna says:
lol
Tasha says:
I commented about my dad's bday a while back and said at least if you are going to lie about your birthday, Go Younger!
Tom says:
penis
Johanna says:
that's funny
Johanna says:
stop that
Tasha says:
What are your plans today and tomorrow
Johanna says:
i went to tai pan with my mom today and i got this great mirror for the living room for $35
Tasha says:
I love tai pan!
Johanna says:
and then we're going to see a movie later
Johanna says:
and tomorrow i've got lunch with my college roommate
Johanna says:
and then dinner with jonah wright
Tasha says:
Hayley?
Johanna says:
and then a movie with my work friends
Johanna says:
yeah, haley
Tasha says:
Aren't you coming to Ken's party?
Johanna says:
what time is it at?
Tasha says:
4
Johanna says:
oh, we can still go
Johanna says:
lunch is early and the dinner is at like 7
Tasha says:
and the movie is a midnighter... I guess...our days end at 7, lol
Johanna says:
lol - the movie's at 10:30
Johanna says:
hehe
Tasha says:
Kenley helped me clean the house last night til amost 930 and it is still a huge mess!
Tasha says:
so when you guys come over, just look past the disgusting mess
Johanna says:
how dirty can your house be?
Tasha says:
I have been in pain all week with the endo, and Aaron worked 6 days in a row...
Johanna says:
bleh
Tasha says:
It's probably the worst it has ever been since we moved in
Tasha says:
I am going to take some ibuprofen and lay down, talk to ya later... take care
Johanna says:
okay- see you tomorrow
Tasha says:
k
Tom says:
penis
Tasha says:
vagina

Tasha has left the conversation.

Oh god. I laughed until I cried. Tom told me that he was just going to keep saying "penis" until she responded - but Tasha, being his sister and having grown up with his obssessive antics, just ignored him until the very end. And promptly logged off. I love my family.

Farewell 2008

You were a great year:

I graduated from college.
I moved to China.
I moved home again.
I resigned from my job.
I was rehired.
I lost 15 pounds.
My mother regained her health.
My family became closer.
My friends became more dear.
My marriage became stronger.
I was brave.
I took chances.
I gained wisdom.
I'm ready for a new year, new challenge, new life.
So goodbye last year.
I loved our time together.

Snowed In

This could happen to you.

Scene: Friday, December 26th 2008. 9:00 AM. Snow. A fuck load.
Tom has just departed for work.

Ring ring.
"Hello?"
"I need you to come help dig me out."
"Are you kidding?"
"No. I'm not."
"Well, where are you?"
"Behind the garage."

Indeed. Tom pulled out of the garage and became promptly stuck. No plowermen had been by and the snow was up to the doors on the car. Now, we live in an apartment. We don't own shovels or snow removal equipment greater than a car scraper. And you must keep in mind that I am 5 feet tall. What help I was going to be in the situation was unknown -- and it actually turned out to be zero. I tried pushing the car while Tom pushed on the gas. I tried pushing the gas while Tom pushed the car. The car was well and truly stuck and I was cold.

Welcome father-in-law. Tom Sr. lives just a bit away and he drives a truck. So la dee da he comes to the rescue. I watched from the garage as Tom and Dad used shovels to save our car from imminent peril (that being snow) and then Tom brilliantly tucked the car back into the garage.

"Okay. Thanks, Dad," Tom says. "Can you take me to work now?"

Yeah - they can't leave - because now the TRUCK is stuck. Luckily, Tom Sr. has chains for just such a rescue mission gone awry scenario. I stood in the garage, watching as they both lied down in the snow, red hands fastening chains onto tires, and then watched with breath held as they drove away - hoping they wouldn't get stuck again or crash and die on the way to work.

End scene: Friday December 26th 2008. 10:00 AM.
Tom has just departed for work....again.

The moral of this story: Wow - snow really sucks ass. I hate you, snow.

Childhood Christmas

Christmas is magical to most people because it is filled with fond memories. We continue to develop traditions even into adulthood -- but the basis of those come from childhood. My childhood Christmases are easily recalled and are, no doubt, the reason for my love of the holiday season. To me, there is an element in the air that doesn't exist at other times; something that, even though I'm grown and Christmas has lost the wonder of childish fantasies, the spirit continues. After all, Christmas is all about being childlike: giving selflessly, accepting graciously, becoming excited about silly things.

My small family did Christmas in a huge way. The entire week my mom would prep for "all" (all meaning 8) of the family to come to the house. Lots of cooking, lots of eating. We would clean and scrub and decorate. The upstairs had the beautiful tree and downstairs was the family tree - littered with our mishmash of sentimental ornaments. It used to be that we only opened one present on Christmas Eve, but somewhere along the road we ditched that and started opening EVERYTHING on Christmas Eve. The living room would be filled with wrapping paper and piles of presents. Best of all, when we woke in the morning, Santa had brought many more presents in the night.

Looking back, one of my favorite memories was Granny. She would drive herself down from Farmington in her cream Oldsmobile - always independent - and I loved to help her bring in the beautifully wrapped presents. Her arrival marked the official start of Christmas because she was the "out of town" company we prepared hardest for. The two of us used to sleep together in my bed on Christmas Eve and I remember the comfort of having someone near me. She always used a silk pillowcase to keep her hair nice. She always wore "house slippers." She always picked up pieces of whatever on the floor - no matter how hard we cleaned. She always drank a mug of hot water in the morning. She was lovely, and I miss her at Christmastime. We used to sing carols around the piano - me playing, Mom singing in her booming mezzo, Granny in her low alto. The lights from the tree illuminating the tree in a rosy glow, quiet snow outside, love on the inside.