blame the extended pre-christmas line-ups at the grocery store, but my eyes were drawn to a people magazine cover featuring celine dion and her brand new twins. the quote on the cover made me do a double take:
"...what we have accomplished...it's bigger than life itself."
wow, ms.dion, way to put things in perspective. and here i thought that having babies was a natural part of our existence.
i think i might have missed something, but apparently it is now not enough to merely decorate your house, both inside and out, to pop in those flashing christmas earrings, and sport that dashing rudolph pin, now it is also necessary to decorate your car.
yes. you heard it here first (or, given my track record with the latest trends, last). in the last week, i have seen several cars bedecked with ribbons and bows in festive polyester burn-your-eyes-out red and green and today, well, my little poultries, today i saw a car with reindeer antlers, in pure joyful celebration of our lord's northern roots...or something.
just as i suspected, as soon as i made my grand exit stage left in come The Thoughts. ok, here goes nothing:
since i am now 1 whole inch (possibly even 2!) shorter, i got to thinking about what else isn't as it ought to be. perhaps i'm not as witty as i like to think. perhaps my cooking is unpalatable. maybe my IQ is only barely making the double digits instead of floating way up there.* what if i am where i am, professionally speaking, not because i am lazy and lack ambition, but because i am stupid and this is the best i can do? perhaps things are much much worse than i imagine, and, being a paranoid hypochondriac, i often think they are pretty bad. what if my whole self image is entirely imaginary and has nothing to do with reality?
all this, because i have suddenly lost an inch.
but then again, the pants i try on while shopping persist in being too short, so maybe, just maybe, things are still right with the world.
*when you are doing nothing much, it is very heartening to think that you are a really really intelligent person doing nothing much and not just another dumbass doing nothing much. the difference is staggering to the self, although it is imperceptible to the world at large.
listen, it's becoming obvious that i don't have much to say. this whole writing thing goes in waves, much like childbirth (so they tell me) or nausea. and right now? i'm having a bit of a dry spell. my posts are pulled out of me kicking and screaming and yet, despite the noise and violence, are strangely not entertaining at all. perhaps, as i get ready to fly to much colder climes for the upcoming birthday of the little beby jebus, i should just take some time off and let my brain stew up some literary winners for my new year's repertoire. what i'm really trying to say, and i am trying to be gentle here, is that perhaps we should see other people for a while. you know, until i figure things out.
and let me just add, it's not you, it's me. you've been fabulous: finally giving me all the feedback i have been wanting and crying for for years, new people popping in to say hello (sweet lord, new people, i am profoundly sorry for the lack of interesting content; may i suggest 2007? i think i was entertaining back then, although i could be wrong), regulars becoming friends, the interwebs spinning their magical thread of international communication...etc. etc.
so, have yourselves a merry little nondenominational winter holiday of your choice, enjoy your feasts and family time, have a drink or three, sing some festive songs and i shall see you here in the new year.
p.s. here's my loophole - if i am hit by sudden inspiration, i will write, although it seems unlikely. but seriously: try 2008. i think that was a decent vintage as well. i might as well warn you - if you hit the years i was living up north, there will be even more drinking and swearing than usual. and lots and lots of bitterness.
for various clandestine reasons, i decided to measure my height today, and because i happen to know my weight in pounds and not civilised kilograms (don't ask), i had to measure myself in inches to match. well, dear poultries, either i've been lied to for years, or i'm shrinking.
all these years i've been going around proclaiming to all and sundry that i am 5'10" (even 5'11" on a good day!) and it turns out that i am only 5'9". how did this happen? when did this happen? and why? WHY?! my BMI is now utterly fucked up and i am but a shadow of my former self (in the height, if not in the weight, department).
comment now, before i disappear entirely.
UPDATE: mr. monkey measured me as soon as he came home from work, and it's official. i'm 5'9". that's not the worst part. the worst part is that i have always been the same height as mr. monkey and now he's 1.5" taller than i am and visibly so. what is happening to me?
actually, hey! it's holiday road christmas party time, or was, last night.
holiday road is the neighbourhood where we bought our land last year, and every year the neighbourhood gathers once in the summer bbq season, and once for christmas. this was our first gathering in our new neighbourhood (actually, aside from a couple of block parties i crashed back in my early 20's (thanks crazy joan!), this was our first neighbourhood party anywhere ever) and it was a blast.
it took place in an musty little out of the way community hall, included several courses of pot-luck deliciousness, enthusiastic carol singing, even more enthusiastic wine drinking, and a massive crazy chinese gift exchange in which gifts were given, taken, re-taken, strategised over, lost and won again*. my newbie status did not bestow any sort of immunity upon me and the double bag of wine i went straight for was taken from me time and again, but i was nothing if not persistent. in the end, i ended up with only one bottle but two new neighbours came by and shared their spoils - didn't take them any time at all to find out what makes me tick.
and if you think that it didn't take me any time at all to show my drunk and disorderly side, i will put your minds at ease and tell you that while on my one side at the table was our very pregnant neighbour, on the other sat a woman who made me seem restrained, quiet and not much of a drinker. thank you, a; i owe you one (mr. monkey whispered that he already had visions of a crawl path being quickly established between our two houses).
even before last night, we had already met more of our holiday road neighbours than we had ever met anywhere we'd lived before; now we have met them all. although some people are clearly doing pretty well financially, the majority look like regular folk living simple ordinary lives. many asked about the fruit trees we'd planted. most wanted to know when we would join the neighbourhood for real. all of them were welcoming, warm, and friendly. whatever doubts i might have had about the land (doubts brought on, no doubt, by thinking of how far we actually are from being firmly established there: hard to picture a warm little house when you're knee deep in mud, piling branches in the rain) dissipated last night.
all in all, well worth the little bit of a headache i seem to be nursing today for whatever reason.
*essentially, it was a bunch of people fighting over several bottles of wine and one fleece blanket.
in light of the previous post: lest you think i am a bitter black-hearted bag who shoots reindeer and spits on the joyousness of the season, let me tell you: this bitter black-hearted bag LOVES christmas, i just don't love the massive marketing aspect of it.
i love the smell of cookies baking; i am like a little kid when it comes to twinkling lights; i even love schmaltzy christmas music (as long as it is played responsibly, within the confines of december). overall, christmas is my all time absolute favourite holiday, filled with my favourite foods and the only time of year when i get frequent and multiple opportunities to wear sparkly clothes!
i realise the previous post might have sounded a little...cold, but, much like our lord jesus christ* who kicked down the market that had sprung up on the temple steps, i am kicking at the materialistic idiocy that has taken the place of family- and food- centered warm fuzzies. take that, capitalism!
*enjoy, you are unlikely to ever hear such a comparison again.
*my internal voice deepened when i spoke these words, all solemn-like.
*in whom i do not believe. yes, alanis, isn't it ironic?
i don't do gifts. i don't like to receive* them, either. but all the bloggers are doing it so i thought to myself, hey! free topic! and that's why, after much forethought and deep meditation, mentation and analysis, as well as some not quite as deep contemplation, deliberation and reflection, i have come up with the Definitive 2010 Christmas Gift Guide:
stuff: guaranteed to make those on your list happy as a pig in shit.
shiny stuff: increases the recipient's satisfaction tenfold (scientifically proven FACT).
put an i in front of it (i-stuff™): you will be their favourite family member for years weeks to come.
regifted stuff: the only kind of stuff i can honestly get behind (i like to call it, "finding a loving home for the monstrosity which makes me weep in the night but brings tears of joy to your eyes") but is likely to have you labelled cheap and/or lazy
i hope this has helped you as much as it has helped me. now get out there, and get yourself a sparkly little smidgeon of happiness while supporting the economy! that's right! why be a minimalist left leaning part of the problem, when you can be a consumerist right thinking part of the solution?
*loophole - that which can be drunk or eaten or in any other way made to go away quickly is entirely acceptable.
saturday last was our christmas party night. a couple days before, i went through all of my sparkly party schmattes and came up with a rather fetching ensemble. its biggest appeal (aside from its sex appeal, obv) was its flowiness, able to accommodate the vast quantities of seafood i was planning to consume. i ironed the top, i ironed the bottom, i took out my jewellery from its box vault, made sure the silver hose were in top notch condition and that my shoes still fit.
on the day in question, i did my make-up, my hair, put on the outfit and liked what i saw. only one thing was missing: a little holiday glow. i waltzed into the bathroom where mr. monkey was showering, spun off a jaunty little pirouette for him, dug out the sparkly lotion, shook it up and went to apply. except that the bastard had a dried up plug in the cap and when the plug finally went, so did approximately half the bottle all over my top. and my bottom. and the floor. and my shoes. i swore loudly, plentifully and bilingually. then i ran back to the bedroom to rustle up another party frock.
the runner-up still looked good, but it lacked the requisite elastic waistband flowiness, and so i spent the evening wavering in and out of semi-consciousness from the pressure exerted on my innards by my industrial strength undergarments. the seafood was decent, the wine divine, overall, a nice night out for les monkeys.