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CHEERS!
1. I became a proud Mac momma this week.
2. Hot Cinnamon Spice tea in a fabulous mug.
3. The Snow came, capital “s”.
4. My brother is a genius. His 10 minutes of fiddling fixed the transition of files from my old computer to the new one though I’d worked on it at least 4 hours this week.
5. Emergency “faux-momma” find-the-right-medicine-for-Mr-Grumpy-Gills-trip to Rite-Aid since bf can’t pleasantly handle being sick.
‘tis all for now
“No one else in the world is getting this for Christmas”
That was Jay’s introduction to my Christmas gift from him. He made me a cat box. Translation: an outdoor abode for cats, much like a dog house, but smaller. As strange as it seems, I was elated. This cat box is the bridge between our happiness- he likes cats outside and I like cats everywhere. Luckily, my Cooper is a bobcat at heart and, since moving from the city to the country, has channeled is inner outdoorsman and increased his fur volume by at least 200%. (Sometimes I catch him just staring inside at us sitting on the porch railing as if he pities us indoor animals, his fur all fluffed around his face.) And Jay, who sneezes his brains out after touching a cat (or a dog, or breathing dust, or pollen, or mysterious winter allergens) dreams of having an “all white fluffy cat” from the lineage of his own family’s white cat. Considering this, we have compromised a bit and, one day, as long as the cats are mostly outdoors, they will be allowed inside as long as they stay in the kitchen and off all surfaces.
Thus, this cat house is a beautiful thing. It still needs to be finished so my next great decision is the choice between stain or white paint. I envision it as a symbol of compromise that I’ll treasure for years and that may also function as side-table on a porch (cuz my boy’s got some serious craftsmanship), so it’s gotta be classy.
Merry Christmas.
Yesterday, today, and tomorrow
Yesterday, I was driving home from the grocery store feeling pretty pleased with myself for all that I’d accomplished from 8AM until 1:30. I got this self-congratulating smile, I’m sure, even though I was alone in my car. Things were feeling put together and perfect when I realized I was about to drive right on past the house that Jay and I were (and still hope) to buy. To continue the perfection of the moment, my brain re-routed me into the drive way (as I passed by), unloaded the groceries, and began making the chili in my very own kitchen. I used my very own knives to chop the onion, and the spicy smells permeated my very own living room, and I wore my own slippers on my own floor. As I hummed to myself over the stove, I knew that no one but Jay would be coming home any time soon to disturb my imaginary contentment.
Instead, I drove into my parent’s house, used all their stuff, and made chili. My dad promptly came home from work as I browned the meat- he got out early- and talked my ear off the entire time.
But I’m pretty lucky to be able to talk to my dad and that he still allows his 24 year old daughter to live there and use his stuff and come and go as I please. So tonight, I’ll take my chili with me and Rachel and we’ll drive off to Traverse city for the weekend. As great as it would feel to depart from my own drive-way, I’ll take any drive way that leads me to people I love. And I shall try harder not to be so focused on how great the future will be… someday. Because I only have today.
And today, I’m going to Traverse with my best friend and her future child all wrapped up inside her to sit in a cabin all weekend, eat good food, and make pretty things. That child is going to be loved, and it’s going to have promising drive-ways that lead to good things, and great parents who let it stay home as long as it needs to no matter how much it wants to be on its own.
a miniature moment of spectacularity
i’m actually being productive, have candles burning at my desk, listening to this american life, when i realize i really need a bobby pin to keep the hair out of my freakin’ eyes so i can continue being productive sans headache when i realize i have bobby pins right here, right here in the dish my candle is sitting in- no getting up at all- and right here, to my left, is a drawer full of chocolate from last christmas and easter. still delicious. makin’ my life a little more glamorous and sweet right here. right now.
… the love of my life just puttin’ his waders on last weekend. He’s got stories, lately, from his teacher assisting in a cognitively impaired classroom of k-3rd graders that make my gut hurt from laughter. one kid drooling on his desk on purpose so that another kid would clean it up, and being so thankful and sweet when when the other kid does clean it up. the same kid comes into class everyday and says, “I’m here!!”, then prances over to the hamster cage and says, “the black one’s eating, the brown one’s dead”. Jay says, “Nope, I think he’s just sleeping, bud.” “Nope, the black one’s eating and the brown one’s dead” and walks away, matter-of-factly.
I look forward to these stories everyday. I look forward to Rachel and Dylan returning to Michigan in just under two weeks-ish to stay. To the fact that seasons come and go so quickly now, it seems, that I can look forward to winter because I know Spring will be here before I know it. It won’t last forever.
She grinned and watched her feet walk her right to my teller window. Her red shirt gave away that she was either playing hooky from work or, well she told me, had been allowed to leave work early that day. It was slow, she said, and added that she had been having fun but with no work, well… she couldn’t just hang out, she guessed, and I thought she half winked at me. Her hair was probably graying a few weeks ago, but today, it was the color of chocolate with the texture of an SOS sponge. Her body hung the way that bodies do when they shouldn’t have to worry about working 9-5 anymore, and bulged a few extra inches all the way up and down and on all sides of her once tall, slender figure. With her day off she supposed she might go shopping- “”for a braaaa”- she whispered from behind her hand, and raised her eyebrows as if to suggest that I, as I woman, knew what effort that entailed. I looked at her breasts under her red shirt, as if I could help it, instantly assessing that yes, she could probably use some more support. Again, from behind her long fingered-hand, “I have a wedddding next weekend”.
She’d heard of Muriel’s in Holland, though she grimaced at the drive. I’d stood in the entryway of Muriel’s once, with my mom. My aunt came floating on a cloud of glitter out of the dressing rooms in her dance unitard, exclaiming that even with Spanx she couldn’t get rid of her giant butt. Admittedly, the color of the night sky stitched out of spandex and clinging tightly to it, stars and all, actually didn’t look too bad. Round and generous Muriel herself said the same, and I’m sure she’d seen more than enough cases of Spanx acting only as a psychological tool for improving self esteem.
I told the lady I’d met someone there once. That it seemed like a nice place, and that Holland was fun. I wished her luck with her endeavor and she widened her eyes as a smile grew on her face. “Thaaanks”, she whispered.
and then…
First you find out a house you fell all-over inlovewith (one word) can not be yours, and then you weep, and every other day after that you think of why it might be ok followed by why it is the worst thing in the world, mostly because you had your wedding all planned for the day after you held the hot little front/back door key in your hand, and then you live a few more days and it doesn’t crinkle up your heart so much in the morning anymore, and then (since you didn’t buy a house) you buy a car - with a sunroof - and an after-market radio that feels like luxury to you even though it has a few dings and sunroofs don’t mean quality but its still a step, right? and then you hate your new job at first, and slowly,slowly the days go faster and you forgot you hate it but you don’t quite love it and you’re not married (yet) but today you got to run errands (the veterinarian, groceries,bank) with the man you love and sit in the grass watching three beagles dart around the yard eating old corn cobs and trying their darnedest to lick that man you love who is desperately allergic to them but grins anyway, and then you notice that your stomach settles a little more (even though you didn’t know it was unsettled) at the thought that houses aren’t everything and neither are cars and that nothing in the future can ever be everything. only today can be everything.
you know you’re stuffing your face for no good reason when:
with two bites left to go of your blueberry pancake, you realize there weren’t actually blueberries in it.
