I hope everyone has a Happy and Healthy New Year. This years festivities will be quiet, which is just the way I want it.

I'm going to welcome 2004 with a warm embrace, and a big, open-mouth kiss. (Depending on how much I have to drink, I may even go all the way with 2004.) I learned some lessons in 2003, but I'm happily leaving it behind.

Oh yes.

For 2004, cleavage will be "In". I'll be starting that trend tonight.

warning: fairly boring "good-old-days" post ahead, but, there is some partial nudity...

Pad's comments lately have triggered a few memories. Oddly enough both of these memories revolve around a part of the country that's very near to my Midwestern friend -

First. Traveling while injured/incapacitated. (This happened a few years ago.) The day before I was scheduled to fly into Detroit I was doing laundry. I bent down to pick up a full laundry basket, turned, and pulled the mother of all muscles in my back. I [literally] couldn't move. I phoned my Gynecologist, informed him of my dilemma, and got him to write me an Rx for muscle relaxers. (Sidenote: The women out there are savvy to the fact that the OB/GYN is the primary care physician for a lot of us.) I spent the next few hours doped-up on the plane. I could barely lift my purse. The next several hours were spent in my Jeep (which D. had driven up in), making our way to the U.P. (Sidenote #2: Have you ever ridden in a Jeep? Let's just say they're not known for their smooth ride.) We finally arrived at our destination, and by nightfall I was beginning to feel sniffly/congested. (Sidenote #3: Did you know airplanes are breeding grounds for germs?) The original plan was to spend the days lounging in the sand at the family cottage, sipping cocktails, and taking daytrips over to places like Mackinac Island. Two days (and three sleepless, hacking, cough-filled nights later), I was in the Emergency Room of a hospital in Sault St. Marie. I go up to the desk-lady and explain, "Hi - I'm from Dallas, and I've got a cold and bad cough that's been keeping me up all night. I just need to see a doc and get him to give me an Rx for cough syrup with codeine in it. I need to sleep." Simple enough, 'eh? The next thing I know I'm in a room with young-northern-doctor-dude, and his friend young-x-ray-technician. They tell me to take off my shirt and bra because they feel the need to "x-ray my lungs". I feebly explain that I *know* I don't have pneumonia. They grinned at me, and said they couldn't let me go without "taking a peek at my lungs". I comply, and young-x-ray-technician instructs me to "put my hands over my head", "o.k., now turn to your right", "great, now turn to your left", "super, now look straight ahead", etc... (Look, I was feeling like Death. I wanted that cough syrup.) A little while later I had my cough syrup, and the day before I flew back home I was back in shape.

Second. Frickin' Cold Weather. I'm a native Texas girl, and images of the "Great White North", snow, ice, etcetera have always held a sort of "romantic" appeal to me. A few years ago I thought it would be a great idea to go back to the U.P. It was the end of February. The people I spoke with in town thought I was insane. The highs during the day were around 5 above. It would get to 40 below at night. Lake Michigan was completely frozen over. I never knew how important long underwear/layering/head protection was. Ever. The big news were the daily snowmobile accident reports (evidently there are a lot of people who drink and drive their snowmobiles in those parts.) It really is a lovely part of the country, it's just a little nicer to visit in the summer.

Anyway,

Switching gears quickly, I'm not a resolutions sort of person. If I'm going to start doing something I'll go ahead and do it now. What have I been up to?

1. Taking care of my body.

2. Taking care of my mind.

3. Enjoying life a little more, and knowing when to call it a day.

4. Making my environment a little more beautiful. I'm painting more of the house, and I've got flowers growing in [nearly] every room.

Last night = Sweet Victory.

I'm a sucker for happy endings.

Anyway....

The holiday was fantastic, thank you. Hopefully yours was swell, too.

I feel very good about 2004. I've already gotten back into Pilates, and I'm taking care of myself in many other ways.

Stay tuned.

cha cha

It was close to 1:00 a.m. when he pulled back the blankets and climbed into bed beside her.

He smelled like smoke and Bloody Mary's.

She'd been dozing in-and-out sleep, tossing and turning in her new fine cotton pajamas, kicking the blanket off, then pulling it up under her nose. She had a death-grip on her pillow, and was wondering why she couldn't fall asleep. She was bone-tired, but her mind [as usual] raced.

He reached over and put a hand on her belly, and pulled her body into his. Most of the time she would've felt a hard-on pressing into her backside, but this was cuddle time, not busy time. He put his face by her hair, and inhaled. His fingers lingered on her stomach, South of her breasts, and he whispered, "You're a good woman. You are a good person."

She didn't move because she didn't want to.

He told her how warm she was, and whispered a profound compliment.

"You are like my Mother, she made the simplest of Christmas presents special."

They both missed her fiercely. She felt warm tears forming in her eyes.

He put his mouth close to her ear, and told her "I love you..." Three heartbeats later, he smacked her on the bottom, and added "... you big jerk face."

He repeated - "I love you. I always have, and I always will."

She carefully turned her head so the pillow could wipe away the tears. It's all she's ever really wanted.

Tenderness. Attention.

She didn't turn around when she whispered "I know."

"Thank You."

Much Later~

Fa la la la laaaahhhh...

Hurray! It's Christmas Eve!

(Golly, I love Christmas.)

Time to do the traditional Christmas Eve loads of laundry, cleaning of the floors, and polishing of the wooden furniture. Then it's prep-time for dinner tonight (roast beast, etcetera), and tomorrow's brunch.

Now, I'm off to light some candles, hark the herald angels, sleep in heavenly peace, have visions of sugar plums, and celebrate. (Go Jesus, it's your birthday....)

Festively yours,

Kelly

obligatory dull list because i've got nothing else to post, thank you

The mood is on the upswing again. Here are a few of the reasons.

1. I'm taking the time to exercise again. Endorphins are powerful.

2. I've talked about things that have been bothering me.

3. Reddi-Wip Moments.

4. Cleaning the house while listening to D'Angelo, because I can be funky like that.

5. Drinking coffee with eggnog instead of cream. Yum.

6. Watching Brett Favre play an inspirational game. (Sidenote: I love sports. LOVE them. I try to keep up with some of my favorite athletes. I don't understand girls who giggle while [attempting] to watch a football game. I roll my eyes when they say things like "Did he just score a homerun?" I'm the girl who knows the meaning of intentional grounding. I know about the sacrifice fly. I know what icing is. I dig the thrill of victory. I feel the agony of defeat. Yadda yadda....)

7. Enjoying the countdown to Christmas. Christmas Day there'll be a house full of friends, feasting on the brunch I'll be making. There's going to be Mimosas, and Bloody Mary's. Nothing says Happy Holidays like alcohol and food.

8. Delivering my Christmas Goodies to the neighbors later this afternoon. I've got to get crackin' on my last batch of cookies.

9. Wishing all of you dear, wonderful people out there in the internet void the happiest of holidays. Even if you're not a big "fan" of Christmas, take the time to remember what this is all about. There's nothing wrong with still believing.

p.s. Don't forget to chill.

Even Later (this is my last "post" for the day, promise)~

Yay! Darling Dev sent me his v. excellent mix c.d. for 2003, along with a copy of 2002's mix. You rock my world, mister.

Later~

Hey, Pad - you know who I'll be pulling for tonight.

My new mantra - any time is a good time for a White Russian.

just call me motrin

The amusement park known as my life continues to leave me breathless - umm - alive.

Thursday night I was drinking a glass of wine, trying to relax, when D. looked at me and said, "I still get overwhelmed by how beautiful you are every time I see you naked." (Sidenote: This is such a "guy" compliment, but I'll take whatever I can get.) I told him "That's a good one. You'd better write that down."

Ten minutes later I became violently ill. I felt the wave of nausea - and - I'll spare you the ghastly details, but I was in bed a while later, trying not to move. (Sidenote: When I'm sick like this all I want is to be left alone. Bring a glass of Vernors, and split - I don't care how close we are, I just want to be alone.) I told myself, "You know, you really should learn how to take a compliment a little better." The next day I felt a little less wonky, and I could put on my skinny jeans with ease.

Friday was spent in recovery mode. I watched the snow, which was really relaxing, and I listened to a lovely mix c.d. from a very nice gentleman, who shall remain nameless - but - you know who you are. (Thanks, btw.)

Saturday was busy - more cooking, shopping, and partying. I'm finally beginning to fit in with groups of friends. It's been tough. I'm not the easiest person to get to know (in "real life") - I tend to be a little on the bashful side. (Unless I've got a few cocktails under my belt.) For a few years I let my guard down, and developed a lot of close friendships. I've started building a wall around my feelings again. I know it's a protection mechanism. I hate losing people - I hate confrontation - and not allowing myself to get truly close to people is my way of not getting hurt. Of course I know it's also a sucky way to live. We're all vulnerable - even the most seemingly together, popular sorts. That afternoon one of my closest "new" friends dropped by to give me a candle. It's my favorite fragrance, but I hadn't been able to locate it in stores for a long time. I'd casually mentioned this to her while we were shopping a few weeks ago, and she found one (the only one in the store, on a back shelf.) She was so happy she found it, and after she brought it to me, and left, I started to cry. D.'s always said I'm "high maintenance", but I can assure you that just the simplestof things make me happy. Thoughtful gestures rock me, and slowly chip away at the wall I build around my heart. That night at another party, I got to know some new friends a little better, and came home feeling pretty peachy.

Then we got back on the roller-coaster Sunday.

Without going into details, by nightfall I was back to feeling confused, hurt, and worthless. I curled up on the sofa, held onto a pillow, and wiped my tears away. The room was dark with the exception of the twinkly Christmas lights, and the feelings of loneliness and insignificance were overpowering. The tiny negative snowball kept growing and gaining momentum as I went over my self-depracating mental laundry list. It was ugly, and I knew it, and I began to get angry with myself. Angry and impatient.

Hell, I'm a splendid human being. I've done things I won't share on this blog - both profoundly stupid, and wonderful. There's no need to harp on the bad choices I've made. I'm flawed, but so is everyone else. Everyone. I also don't think you should broadcast all of the good deeds you do. The motivation should come from within, and that's where it should stay. Do them privately. Let's see - where was I? Oh yes ~ I was sick of the tears, so I got off the sofa, and forced myself to think nothing but positive thoughts.

I am a strong, confident, lovely woman with a heart of gold. I'm intelligent, thoughtful, and patient. My self-worth can't be defined through the eyes of others. I like myself. I might be geeky (and not in a good way), a little stubborn, a tad sensitive (oh, shut up...), and a little too structured at times, but my *faults aren't monumental. I can be tough. I can kick butt (in a gentle, effective way.)

Not long ago I was watching Happy Gilmore, laughing at nearly every scene in the movie. D. walked in and tsk-tsked me - "Jeez - you laugh at everything." He thought about what he said, and later told me it was probably a little silly to chide me for being "too happy".

I'm turning my back on the negative things - I won't cry because I feel ignored, I won't dwell on disappointment, and I won't get stuck in the sadness. Life is too short, damn it. I'm too precious for this.

H A P P Y
H O L I D A Y S


*Sometimes a little dramatic.

Later~

Baseball fans - go listen to Dev talk about the Alex-For-Manny trade stuff on The Ticket tonight. 8:00-to-10:00 p.m. CST.

letting off steam

As the day began to spiral quickly downward, I [thankfully] realized something later that night ~

Largehearted people make me smile.

I'm completely smitten with A Flying V For Christmas. (Not to mention the Largehearted House Mix, and, of course, the Old Fashioned Christmas.)

Thanks for the grin. Nice people rock.

(p.s. I've always wanted a copy of Christmas With The Devil. Yay!!!)

Yeah, so -

Without going into gory details, I'm not feeling so swell. The "Everything's Just Peachy!!" facade is chipping away. I'm disappointed in a few people (no - not *you*), I'm having increasingly wild/strange/bad dreams (Sidenote: I had a dream I was making out with John Cusack. I don't know why it was John Cusack - the only thing I can think of were those kickboxers I saw while flipping through t.v. stations. Anyway - I'm <-this close-> to his face, and the next thing I know his tongue is in my mouth! Woohoo! Being the pro-lucid-dreamer I am, I thought - "whoa, this is kind of cool. Look how cute he looks. Nice technique, too." Sorry - digressing a bit there....), and - all the stuff I thought I had accomplished, I've realized I'm not really done with. So now I'm procrastinating, and thinking too damn much (again).

I'm tired.
I'm cold.
I'm hungry.
I'm broke.
I'm confused.
I can't handle any more confrontation. At all.

See? "Everything's Just Peachy" facade is disappearing, fast.

(In the meantime I'm going to go to Sonic for lunch. A #2, Diet Vanilla Coke, and Tater Tots should help. Possible flurries later would be fun.)

Happy Effin' Holidays, Ya'll!!

do you ever stop believing?

 
Napping Beauty
(on the world's most comfortable sofa, ever)

One of my favorite "Christmas" tunes on this years mix is "I Believe". It's upbeat, and - well - it's a Sinatra tune (so what's not to like?), and it nails the optimistic, naive way I tend to feel about certain things. I also love songs like "High Hopes". (I'm sweet like that.)

I wasn't always this way. I used to be the classic Cynical Girl. I once had a boyfriend tell me he loved me because I was so "caustic" and "real". (Sidenote: He was a photographer-slash-artist. He'd take pictures of me when we were out on dates. One of them was in one of his gallery shows, and someone bought it. Sometimes I wonder if there's some family that has this picture of me hanging on one of their walls - "The Cynical Girl" - sipping her glass of champagne, wearing a purple shirt, looking slightly annoyed... Anyway - He was more in love with himself than he ever could've been with me.) I turned my nose up at fairy-tale ideals. Prince Charming? Yeah, right. Wake up and smell the Lothario.

Somewhere along the way I started to soften. Love has a way of worming itself into even the hardest hearts, I suppose. I realized that I couldn't live a happy life if I was always pessimistic. Denying myself hope was equal to denying myself happiness, and I knew life was too short for that. Prince Charming? Yes, of course. Sleeping Beauty will dream of you, and make you cookies, and sort your socks, and forgive your moments of weakness, and pray her moments will be forgiven as well.

The ending of "When Harry Met Sally"?? I bought it - hook, line, and sinker. How could I not fall in love with this modern-day fairy tale? I still get tingly when "Harry" realizes he loves "Sally" [cue Sinatra singing "It Had To Be You"] - Harry running through the streets of New York City - feeling like a schmuck - desperate to get "Sally" back - finding her right before midnight (the only thing missing from the scene were a pair of glass slippers) - and breathlessly telling her:

"I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out, I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich, I love when you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts, I love that after I've spent the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because its New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to begin as soon as possible."

(Of course this dialogue was written by a woman. Ooops. Sorry. I've still got just a *smidge* of cynicism left in me.) :-)

I am, and always will be, a hopeless case. A romantic. A softie. I can't help believing. I may say "I give up", but I won't.

Sometimes I wish I could re-write parts of the script. I wish I had full "artistic control" of my life. I wish I could just go ahead and write the ending, sit back, and enjoy. I realize I don't know how things will turn out, but I'm convinced it will be a happy ending, just because I believe it will be.

Later~

*Right now would be one of those times I wish I had full artistic control. I would demand a re-write of this afternoon. Unbearable sadness... :'-(

*Footnote - when dumping salt and lemon juice into an open wound, one should at least have a little tequila around to help ease the pain. So-to-speak.

Speaking of open-wounds (and chaos theories) - just received $500 E.R. bill for finger-whacking incident. For what? A glorified band-aid and a tetanus shot? They didn't even warn me - "Oh - by the way - you're not going to have any feeling left in the spot you cut off."

Later~

A fine piece of writing from Billy.

mailing it in

Good morning. Last night I misplaced my mind. [gently smacks palm to forehead, while whispering "good grief, woman - what on Earth were you thinking?"]

I drank an entire bottle of Chardonnay. I suppose this seemed like a swell idea at the time. (Sidenote: You know things are askew when you start getting Christmas cards from vineyards. You think I'm kidding? Ha! See:
 
Cheers, indeed. FYI - I'm waiting on my cards from Target, Victoria's Secret, All-The-Music-Related-People-I-Help-Support-By-Purchasing-Their-C.D.'s, and the makers of Altoids - the curiously strong mint. You [still] think I'm kidding? More photographic evidence, and this is just what's in my car. I remember commenting about all these things to Todd not long ago:
     
(Note: I have an actual pair of gloves in the glovebox. They are the softest leather I've ever felt, and they are lined in cashmere. I love those gloves. I've also got c.d.'s all over the place. Please also note that I'm broke.)

Wow. I'm taking boring to an all-new low, 'eh? Seriously, I'm just a little fuzzy this a.m. Please forgive me. I'm sitting here, quietly singing along to this song.

This would be a fabulous morning to curl up on the world's greatest sofa (ever) with my blankie, the remote control, and a movie.

Later~

Here's a heads-up for you, David. (I haven't listened to his new c.d. yet, but I do have it.)

like a christmas tree

Friday night ended on a sour note. It was one of those nights where I ended up in bed, crying, asking myself "WTF is wrong with me"? I begin the mental checklist: I'm too tall. Too old. Too nice. Too naive. Too goofy. Tainted. Sensitive. Stubborn.

Basically, I'm setting myself up for Saturday night. I'm granting myself permission to get lit.

Saturday I made some snacks to share at Mark and Allison's. I thought it would be a good night to wear my flirty pants and sweater. Thankfully I left the camera at home. We had a few drinks, and Allison showed me her tattoo (a cute little sun on her bikini line), and pierced belly-button. (Sidenote: I've toyed around with the idea of taking the tattoo/piercing plunge, but always chicken out. The belly-button takes six months to heal, and a tattoo is just so permanent. All it takes are a few cocktails to have me convinced I'm going to get a tattoo. It's either going to be a tiny state of Texas with a heart where Dallas is, or a tiny daisy with nine petals. "He loves me, he loves me not"....) We get to the Five 01 five minutes before the friend's band start their first set. The place was packed, but we had a table in the back with some of Allison's friends. One of them was Woman With Huge Breast Implants and Very Low-Cut Shirt. (Sidenote: You literally could not look this woman in the eye. These things had a life of their own. It looked as if she had two perfectly round grapefruit struggling to pop out of her skin. They looked painful, and harder than rocks. Look, I've got nothing against plastic surgery, it's just not my cup-of-tea.) She was there with her husband, who took an immediate shining to me. His wife didn't stick around long, and he waved me over to sit next to him. Before I could say "pass-me-my-glass-of-Chardonnay" he was rubbing his knee against me, and chatting me up. The minute he put his hand on my thigh I said "Excuse me", and went to the ladies room. (Have I mentioned how much I hate confrontation?) On the way back I found a very small opening at the bar, and stopped to get another glass of wine. This is where Attractive Bi-Sexual Woman started talking to me. "Are you here alone? Nice pants. Don't you love this band? Etc...." She then proceeded to rub her backside up against mine. I was pulling away from her, but I was smushed-up against the bar as far as I could get. I got my glass of wine, and made my way back. (Sidenote: I like working my way through a crowd. It's a great excuse to put your hands on hot guys backs - "excuse me, please".)

I decided my breasts weren't getting enough attention, so I unbuttoned the toggles on my sweater. (This was a little sad, and a good sign that the amount of alcohol I'd consumed was just over the "nothing-good-can-happen-beyond-this-point" line.) Allison slid her hand inside my sweater (on my left breast) to show me how cold her hands are. Charlie took a peek at the bra. Kelly #2 exclaimed ~ "When the band comes back for their second set we're going to do table dances!! Woohoo!!!" Someone started talking about sex, and I heard myself share intimate details about certain "things". (I never speak about these sorts of things in mixed company. With my best girlfriends - maybe. The next morning I cringed when I remembered sharing this specific piece of information. Did I really say I did that?? Did I really get applause?? Oh. My.) It was around this point that the voice inside my head said "Get your purse, your coat, and your scarf, and go home. Now."

Don't get me wrong - I had fun, but I'm not a "night-club/party" kind of woman any more. I *did* shake my groove thing. I sang along loudly to Cure songs. I flirted. I suppose it takes nights like that to appreciate what really makes me happy.

I'm not too tall, or old, or nice. I like my goofy ass. I'd rather be too sensitive than hard. I'm not that tainted. I'd rather be a little naive than jaded.

rambling

Last night I was feeling rather moody. D. told me he's [most likely] going to Japan next month for a few weeks. I was also feeling slightly stressed, a tad underappreciated, and confused. I woke up at 2:00 a.m. after having a nightmare. My Dad was working on something in his garage - some sort of pressurized tank - and it exploded. Everything went black, and I remember seeing his body lying across the threshold of the door, like he was trying to crawl back into the house. I know it was just my guilt for being so far away manifesting itself. I miss that man so much, and when he was here at Thanksgiving I couldn't get past the fact that he'd only be here for a few days, and then he'd be gone. I have a problem with this sort of thinking. It makes it hard for me to enjoy the present sometimes. Current example: I walk through the house at night, admiring all the twinkly lights, decorations, etc., and all I can think about is how empty everything is going to seem when I have to put all the stuff away. I'm really not a pessimist, I just realize there's a part of me that wants the happiness to go on and on and on. I'm really bad at letting go. (Sidenote: Don't forget to send the Ex-Therapist a Christmas card. I miss him...)

I'm finished with all of my Christmas duties (yay), and I'm more than ready to have some fun. Tomorrow night is a low-key party, and Saturday night are drinks and snacks at Allison's prior to going to the 501 to see the aforementioned friends band play. I'm ready to put on the party shoes, and maybe - just maybe - shake my groove thing. This time I'm taking the camera.

For those of you in need of a little Christmas spirit, this is for you.

lights, camera, action

O.K. Guys ~ Here's your list of The 50 Best Guy Movies Of All Time. (Link via Pad.)

I have seen the vast majority of the films, and from a girlie-girl standpoint I'd have to say I really like a lot of them. (Sidenote: I know that my Dad's favorite would be "The Searchers".) Anyway - I noticed a few movies missing from this list that I thought would be prime "Guy" material. Anything you'd add? Change?

anyhoo...

Awwwyeah, way to work that cover, Mister Cover Boy-Man.

Is it getting hot in here?

holidaze

Decorating the tree always makes me happy.

A lot happier than, say, going to company Christmas parties.

Saturday night was a doozy. People - let me give you a few pointers about company parties. Ladies, this isn't the big night to tart yourself up and get hammered. Gentlemen, get your elbows off the table, put your fork down before you speak, and close your mouth when you chew your food. Also, the Homer Simpson "woohoo" scream is only funny once. Quit doing it over and over and over and over. For those of you past a certain age, "Open Bar" doesn't mean "stockpile eight or nine drinks prior to the end of Open Bar". I haven't been this uncomfortable in a long time. It was the worst "corporate" party I've been to - ever - and I'm not exactly 21 years old in any more. (Shut up.)

Example: Wife of Man That Works For Company was absolutely schnockered. I'd met her earlier in the evening, and ran into her upstairs. One of the tarted-up office girls adjusted her cleavage, and the next thing I know Wife of Man walks up to her, proceeds to tell her she's a "dirty little slut", and informs her that if she needs to adjust her boobs she should do it in the bathroom. Tarted-up office girl says "oh yeah, bitch - you want to settle this outside"? Wife of Man looks around, sees me, and says (loudly) - "Kelly - don't you agree with me??" (Yay! She remembered my name. How nice!!) I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs.

I didn't know the majority of these people (it was D.'s party.) Maybe I'm getting too old. The evening quickly went South from there.

O.K. Proof that I'm an old fart? I wanted to stay home, in front of the fire, and watch movies. I was disappointed that I couldn't cook dinner. I did like putting on the party duds (tastefully low-cut tuxedo-coat dress, string of pearls, lacy black underthings, and black suede pumps), and I did enjoy the pre-party cocktail at the Five 01, but that was it. It's not that I'm not a sociable person. I'm v. good at small talk, and I know how to shake hands (Sidenote: I will judge you by the way you shake my hand. If you've got one of those limp, cold, cocked-wrist handshakes I won't want to get to know you. I know that's bad, but I can't help it.) Anyway - I'd rather stay in with friends, have drinks, chat, watch sports, etc. I'm the classic "cheap date".

I'm going to push myself to wrap up all my Christmas stuff by the end of the week because I've got another party Friday, and I'm going to see some friends' band play Saturday night. I want to be able to relax and enjoy the rest of the holidays.

as far from jaded as it gets

As I rush around trying to get everything done, attempting to keep the peace, and taking multi-tasking skills to new heights, I'm reminded that this season is simple. We don't need salad shooters, electric razors, or d.v.d. players. We need to nurture our spirits.

Are you feeling stressed? Tense? Out-of-sorts? Feeling like a Grinch? Please take the time to listen to one of my all-time favorite Christmas stories - ever.

Oh yes - God Bless all of you, and have a great weekend.

Later~

This is so not in the "Christmas Spirit", and really not the kind of thing a person should be spending time reading when one has slightly less than a million things to do, but - these kind of things make me giggle like a third-grader, which can be a good thing from time-to-time.

you can lead a horse to water...

Wow. That was an exceptionally craptastic evening.

I'm not going divulge details, but - there are times that it's incredibly difficult to love someone. You can love a person deeply - so deeply that when something happens, and they're in trouble, it hurts and scares you so much that you don't know what to do. You find something out that you don't want to know, but there it is - right in front of your eyes.

So - what I end up doing (after crying, and pacing, and telling myself "think, think, pray, think"...) - is to flee. "I'm going to Target", I say as I stuff a couple of tissues in my coat pocket, check my face in the mirror (wipe away mascara smudges, put on a little lipgloss, pop an Altoid in my mouth), grab my purse and keys, and go. I know that looking at ornaments, decorations, getting wrapping paper and bows, and seeing the Salvation Army bellringer will lift my spirits. It will, in the very least, distract me. I pull into the parking lot and see the Salvation Army guy. (Sidenote: Is it not charity when you give money to someone for the sole purpose of making yourself feel better? I wanted to hear someone say "God Bless You." I needed someone to look at me and say "Thank You".) I stuff my money in the bucket, and look him in the eye, and smile (a little weakly, but it was a smile. Really.) He said "Thank You, and Drive Safely." I thought it was a little odd because I was going in to the store, but - you know - all right.

By the time I got home I was feeling a little more levelheaded. I was able to chat like a sane person.

There's a lot that I don't talk about here ("it's just a silly blog, blah blah blah"...) It's probably not what you might think. I'm just venting, I suppose.

I'm glad I'm busy. I'm glad it's a time of year when you've got the best excuse not to get too inward, and think about yourself. I'd rather focus on the outside, while tending to the inside as delicately as I can.

Just a quick post to say "hello". Is anyone else really, really busy?? I love this time of year, but you know things are a little off when you're in your pajamas and falling asleep at 9:00 p.m. It's also bad when you don't have time to do silly things like "eating" and "laundry". (Note to Self: Stock up on Slimfast, and don't forget to drop off drycleaning.)

I'm running on fumes, and need my tank refilled. Now.

***It's getting down to the wire, and I think I've come up with a "finished" product - so....***

If I don't have your mailing address, and you'd like a little holiday cheer, please e-mail it to me soonest. Thanks.

Later, Later~

Hey, Musicfans II -

Dev has posted his list of 20 Albums You Shoud Be Ashamed Of Not Owning.

Later~

Hey, Musicfans -

David (The Largehearted Boy) has posted his Top Eleven Albums of 2003 for your perusal.

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I milked the cut finger for all it was worth.

It really wasn't worth very much.

I'm in a post-holiday funk. I already miss my Dad. They left at 5:00 a.m. You see, I'm in my element when I'm entertaining. When I'm cooking, and fussing over my loved ones. "Are you warm enough?" "Dad, would you like a piece of pie?" "Hey D., can you help me with these lights at the top of the Christmas Tree?"

I knew the visit would be brief. I knew it wouldn't be easy (The Mother never is.) I also knew these would be the happiest times. Cooking? Fun. Watching the Macy's Day Parade? Could it get any more fun? Eating? Fun. Drinking? Fun, fun, and more fun. Playing the new Trivial Pursuit D.V.D./Pop Culture game, and kicking everyone's ass thanks to the large amounts of useless information you've absorbed over the years? Good, clean, annoyingly-competitive fun. Playing Christmas music loudly whilst decorating the Christmas tree? Such giddy, lighthearted fun you could've knocked me over with a feather...

However.

Today I'm blue. I'm listening to blue tunes, sighing heavily, and dabbing away the tears. I can blame my trembling lower lip on the temperature, I suppose. I need to get motivated because the combo illness/finger-whacking's left me about a week behind on life. Christmas Parties/Grand Illumination/Birthday's/Shopping/Cards/Blah Blah Blah - the things that require my time and attention - mood be damned.

I really need to break out the George Bailey.