A Christmas Story

My Facebook post from Friday:

Natalie Fowler

December 20 near Louisville, KY

My morning has been filled with an ACTUAL CHRISTMAS MIRACLE and I'm so excited I can't hardly stand it. I'm bouncing up and down in my chair.

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The story:

A Christmas Story

December 25, 2013 at 9:34 pm

A Christmas Miracle is what I promised. Sometimes, I get so excited about the way I think life should work out, I end up forgetting that reality is usually not so kind.  Still, I live behind these rose colored glasses.

My Daddy, whom I love and adore, way back in 1982, received from my Momma, for his 30th birthday, a wooden chess set.  It was beautiful - the pieces were hand carved and polished, the board was made with love - it was a wonderful board that graced the top of our entertainment center for as long as I can remember.  I spent hours as a girl peeking in on my dad and his friends as they hunched over the set, moving the pieces in mysterious ways, so silent and serious.  It seemed a very boring game to me, but the love my Daddy had for that board made it seem like something grown up and important and something I very much wanted to experience with him - so eventually, I learned the game of chess on that board, taught by a very patient father who tried his best to explain to his precocious daughter why it was okay that the King, which was so very important to the game, could only move in the same limited capacity as a Pawn.  (I still don't get it, I'll be honest with you.  The Queen was totally the boss of that game.)  I haven't played chess in years, and Daddy had taken to favoring the less-bulky convenience of downloaded games on his phone, but the last time I played was on that board, and I know Daddy still occasionally pulled out the set to have a game with his buddy Jim.

Daddy's chess board was such a fixture in our home - like the cabinet that holds the CDs, and the dining room table - you may not use it every day, but it was always there. Until one day it wasn't.

The hows and whys of the board's disappearance aren't tales for this story, but the loss, when it was noticed, was heartbreakingly sad, and it deeply hurt my Daddy that it was gone.  I have a ridiculous sentimental side that comes straight from my Papa - small tokens can carry the value of gold and gems if given by the right person, for the right occasion - and I could see in his eyes when he told me his chess set was gone, and I hurt for him.  We tried to find it, but by the time we tracked it to it's last known location, it was gone again.  Forever, it seemed.

The Friday before Christmas, I was in my boss's office, sharing Christmas shopping woes.  I told him how i wasn't finished shopping for Daddy, but all I wanted to get him for Christmas was a chess set to replace his missing one, but you can't replace handcrafted with mass-produced.  Dan cocked his head to the side, then turned to his computer and typed something in - I came around his desk to look, "Are you on Craigslist?"  The first search for "chess set" returned dozens of listings, but he narrowed it to wooden sets and listings with pictures.  The third listing, from Lexington Craigslist, was my Daddy's chess set.

I called the man with the listing, confirmed he still had the board, made an offer, got his address, and told him I'd see him the next morning.  I looked at the listing for another 5 minutes, heart racing.  Could it really be my dad's set?  Yep, it had the wooden box he used to store the pieces.  I recognized the green felt on the bottom of the pieces.  Dan emailed me the link to the listing, which I forwarded to Momma, followed by a phone call, "That's it, isn't it?"  "Nat, I think it is."  I knew it!  I was beside myself with joy - I wanted to leave work that minute and drive to Lexington and have it safe in my hands, then under my tree, ready to be reunited with my Daddy.

All afternoon, all night, all morning Saturday, I had visions of how I'd give Daddy his gift.  Sneak in and set it up under their christmas tree so it's waiting for him Christmas morning, like a gift from Santa?  Each piece wrapped indiviually and the board as the final present?  A video taking him along on our journey to Lexington and back, with the big reveal at the end?  Regardless, I knew it would be perfect, and he would be so thrilled and excited, and this would be the best Christmas ever, for more reasons than just being Geneva's First.

Jimi and I loaded Geneva into the car in the middle of the cold rain Saturday morning, and headed out to pick up our Christmas Miracle.  It was a jovial trip - I was bubbling with excitement, visions of rooks and pawns and knights and queens dancing in my head.  The seller was waiting for us in his driveway when we pulled up, and I got out of the car with the money in my hand.  He brought me the board...

And I knew immediately it wasn't my Daddy's chess set.  While Daddy had for years left the board assembled, ready for game-play, there was no discoloration on the white squares on his board; this board had little round circles where the color of the wood was changed by years of exposure to light or smoke.  The board was nice, just not as nice as my Daddy's.  The box of pieces was smaller, not as nice as Dad's, and the pieces themselves were 2/3 the size of Dad's pieces, and not nearly as finished and polished.

I hated the chess set being offered to me.  I gave the man $100 and put it in my backseat anyhow, and drove away.  I made it to the stop sign at the end of the street before the tidal wave of tears I'd been holding back broke free, and I sobbed and sobbed, heartbroken for my Daddy's loss all over again, and now for my failure to fix it and make everything better.

My day was ruined.  Sweet Jimi saw me deflating fast and tried to perk me up, but I was allowing myself to sink and wallow- how could i have been so foolish, and so wrong?  And does this mean that Daddy's board really is gone forever, with no hope of ever coming back to us?

By the time we got home, my head was clearing from the shock.  That sounds melodramatic, doesn't it?  That's really what it was, though - I was so completely certain we'd found my Dad's board that I was absolutely blindsided by the fact that it wasn't.  I looked at a Craigslist photo and convinced myself of what I saw and allowed not a moment's thought to the idea that I could be mistaken.  Foolish.  Anyhow, by the time we got home that evening, I was more reasonable.  I took out the board and the little wooden box and examined both closely.  I opened the box and held the pieces in my hands - they're hefty for their size, and while the carvings aren't polished, they're quality.  It's a nice chess set.  Anyone who enjoys the game would be proud to have it.

I wrapped it with love, and gave it to Daddy today.  I couldn't stop myself from crying, or for apologizing for it not being "his" - he cried too, though, and replied "it's mine now".

Christmas was full of the most important things, and not a damned one of them was carved of wood.  Perspective, I has it now.

And then I filled up for $2.98 a gallon on the way home.

Christmas Miracle, indeed.

Sundays are my favorite.

Sometimes I think about some of the things I've written about Mormon women and realize I've got it mostly wrong - they're much more than the box I put them into when I first started learning more than what the missionaries teach.  If I've offended you, I'm sorry.  I don't mean to be an asshole, but sometimes I am.

I made some amazing vegetable soup last night.  Remember the brisket Jimi made for work and then wasn't going to share?  He brought some home.  It was delicious, and then it became soup, along with the last can of green beans and the last can of corn and some old potatoes that were starting to turn soft and a jar of tomato juice someone gave us back in the summer.  There were other things too, of course, but you don't want all the details, do you?  I was particularly proud of this batch, because I though I needed to make a trip to the grocery to make it happen, then just pulled together what we had and made it work instead.  Very frugal and smart of me, if I do say so myself.  Jimi made pretzel bread rolls and they are delicious, but they were finished too late to marry up with the soup - they'll meet tonight!  I guess we're on a baking kick, because I also made a pumpkin german chocolate cake, but we've only shared one piece of that.

This morning I got up and started on laundry, only to find we were out of detergent.  So I made some more, at 7:30 a.m..  Like a boss.  I've said it before, but I'll say it again - that shit feels like making money.  Putting together a batch of laundry detergent that is as good or better than something I'd pay nearly $20 for at the store - it feels awesome.  I wish I could be more go-get-'em when it comes to other aspects of my life.

For example:  Bossman's birthday was yesterday.  I decided a week or so ago that part of my gift to him was going to be some awesome fudge.  I made the fudge today, because I'm all on the ball and shit.  So I start making the fudge, add the evaporated milk and butter and sugar to the pot, bring to a boil, then reduce heat and wait for it to get to soft boil.  It nearly boiled over.  It was in a 3-quart saucepan, as required per the recipe.  Something didn't look right.  I thought.  I pondered.  I calculated in my head.  And I realized, FUCK, I have WAY too much evaporated milk in there.  I checked the label on the can - sure as shit, my recipe called for (2) 5-oz cans and I'd added (2) 12-oz cans.  Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.  I considered dumping it all out the back door, but then calculated some more and figured there was already too much invested to give up.  I hollered for Jimi and set him to task buttering more foil in another 9X13 while I found another two and a half sticks of butter and 5+ cups of sugar.  By chance, my habit of over-buying paid off this time - I had exactly enough chocolate on-hand to make this thing work.

I'm really glad I caught my mistake when I did - if not, and chocolate and such had been added, disaster would've ensued.  As it stands, the fudge has firmed up beautifully, and the worst sin may be that I failed to add enough nuts.  I'll take it.

Other noteworthy items:  I purchased 2 lbs. of whole, in-the-shell nuts, along with a cracker and some picks.  Do you know what I'm talking about?  Part of Christmas memories from my childhood will always include my Papaw, sitting at the dining room table, shelling nuts and shoving them in his mouth as quickly as they could be freed from their hulls.  He taught me how to do it.  I think Bob and I tried to recreate this tradition once-upon-a-time, but what may have happened to that set of crackers and picks is anyone's guess - I'm glad to have a new set for my new life, to remind me of another time when I was as happy as I am now.

Granny and Papaw were part of the definition of Christmas when I was learning the meaning of the season.  Every Christmas Eve was spent at their home, opening presents, feasting gluttonously, singing joyfully.  It seemed that the heart of the entire world must have grown three sizes each year simply from the good tidings radiating from their home.  I miss them so much.  Christmas lost part of its magic when we lost them.

But it's still mostly happy and joyful.  The circle of life, and all that.  Stacy was over last night - she's got five weeks till her due date.  Five weeks!  We'll blink and that brand new little girl will be here.  I can't wait to meet her.  I was able to feel a knee or a foot or something last night as it pressed out the side of Stacy's belly; there's a whole another person inside of her - it's mind-blowing.  Stacy was wearing a much-too-big for her ICP t-shirt left over from her college days and a pair of baggy gray sweats.  She looked super comfortable, and not even a little pregnant, unless you know she's normally the size of a twig.

We've rearranged more furniture and I've finally repotted the aloe plant and the bromeliad - there's a good chance neither will survive the transfer, but we'll see.  Fingers crossed.

I asked my cousins via Facebook if our grandmother, Mamaw (my Daddy's Momma), had a good singing voice - if anyone remembered.  No one remembers her singing.  I asked Daddy, too - he doesn't remember either.  For some reason, that strikes me as tragically sad.  Was she sad?  Is that why she didn't sing?  Or was she shy, or did she just not carry a tune?  Her life was hard and fraught with loss, but beyond that, I don't know much.  I know she made great fried chicken, according to Daddy, and amazing banana pudding.  What did she love, though?  What made her happy?  My most vivid memory of her involves her tears of frustration as she tried to communicate with me; I was 9 or so, Brother was a new baby, and she had already suffered a stroke or two and her verbal skills were very much affected.  I remember at her funeral, Daddy hugged me and told me that my Mamaw had loved me very much - I remember wishing she'd not been such a stranger to me, though it was obviously through no fault of her own.

Christmas cheer, eh?

Sorry.

The weekends go by so quickly - it's already 6 o'clock on Sunday night, which means I'll be awake and starting my workday in 12 hours or so.  Fuck.

It's fine, though.  Monday through Thursday this week, they can have me.  After that, I'm gone - off for 11 days.  11 DAYS!!!  OMG, I cannot wait!  I don't know how I'll spend the time, but it'll not be answering phone calls in the middle of the night or putting out fires before my first cup of coffee.  I fully intend to at least finish reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and these two new-to-me classic anti-Mormon autobiographies (Deborah Laake and Sonia Johnson) drunk-me bought me for Christmas last week.

Happy Week-Before-Christmas!  May the Force be with you this week as you navigate the malls and shops. (And remember, Buy Local!)

Christmas Songs by Natalie

Oh, Christmas Party,
Oh Christmas Party,
How lovely is your open bar.

Oh Christmas Party,
Oh Christmas Party,
your menu offers shit like tuna tartar. (WTF?)

I drink and eat,
'til my eyeballs sweat,
then smoke a fag,
till dessert is served.

Oh Christmas Party
Oh Christmas Party,
I love that Bossman pays your tab.


There.  I made you a Christmas song.  You're welcome.

Do you eat foie gras?  I don't.  No thanks.  Our restaurant tonight had grilled foie gras on the menu.  I'm not an organ-meat sort of gal.

Well, unless you're talking about...

God, I just can't have class.  me and class were just never meant to be friends.

I was lookin' cute tonight, though, if i do say so myself.    I finally wore that crocheted vintage skirt Jimi bought me back in 2007 - turns out it's the hotness with a pair of tights and suede boots.  Who knew?  (Jimi, apparently, but we're not going to talk about how he's always right.)

So yeah, tonight was the company Christmas dinner, and it was fantastic, as always, and probably scarily expensive, as usual.  It was fun and gay, and I wish there was a way we could do this every month, instead of once a year.  The good tidings and joy are overflowing.

I should go to bed before I get some of it on the carpet.

In other news...2

It hit over 60 degrees today.
In case you've forgotten, it's December 14th.
I'm not complaining, just stating facts...in a sarcastic tone and with a confused look on my face.
I'd really like a white Christmas, but that ain't lookin' likely.
Maybe I filled my white Christmas quota when I was living in Michigan.

Jimi slow-roasted a brisket last night.  At 3:30 a.m., his phone started making gadowful noises, and you'll never believe this, but he made it do that on purpose!  So at three thirty, his alarm goes off and I'm all "OMGWTFKITTENS?!" and he's all "Gotta check the meat" and so I went to go pee.  Have you ever been awake at 3:30 in the morning when there's a brisket roasting in your oven?  My house smells fucking delicious, yo.  (Of course, it's not 3:30 now, but it does still smell delicious in here.  I hope he brings some home - see, it was for work, and so I did not get to taste not one little morsel of the delicious-smelling meat. Sad face.)  Anyhow, he checked his meat and came back to bed and gave me a big hug and kiss and for a second I thought he was gonna try to get some sexy time started and I was thinking "oh hell, it's 3:30 in the morning, but what the hell, okay. but man, I'm so sleepy" but it didn't matter, because he just wanted to kiss me and cuddle a little.  His hair smelled like meat.  I was really hungry when I woke up this morning.

I'm hungry now.  I'm thinking something easy, like tomato soup and grilled cheese.  Or leftover pizza from lunch. Like I said, easy is the name of the game.

I've done a little Christmas shopping, but I'm not nearly finished.  It'll be a busy weekend, or a busy week next week, or a busy Christmas Eve...

We're reading The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and it's awesome.  Have I ever mentioned how much I love that Jimi's a reader?  I love it.  I love that we read the same books, each of us choosing a different marker, and have a "i'll get to the end faster than you!" thing going on.

I love everything about him.  He's dreamy.

Oh, and Finn chewed the face off of one of the reindeer under the Christmas tree.  I'm pretty sure it's the Jimi-reindeer, not the Natalie-reindeer.  Poor Jimi-reindeer.

Christmas, you say? Okay, fine.

It was a pretty good week.

Finn got to go to work on Monday:

Obviously, he won the duck battle.  

It snowed!

The flurries lasted for maybe 15 minutes, but it was exciting nonetheless.  I love snow.

This light showed up.

I'm still not sure what it means, but I probably should look into it, huh?

I love this tree.

It lives along the train tracks in our backyard at work.

Friday morning's sunrise was lovely.

The tree went up at work this week.

Our Administrative Assistant was NOT happy about being assigned this task.

She only used one strand of lights, which is why the top is so dark.

What's so bad about being paid to decorate a Christmas Tree?

(And I checked, there aren't any religious objections or anything.)

Our salesman brings coffee every Friday morning.

We've come to expect it, and we're really sad if he doesn't do it.

They're tearing down a bunch of old warehouses down the way from the office.

There are piles and piles of bricks.

I kinda wish I could get my hands on a few truckloads.

I don't know what they're going to build here; I hope it's not a parking lot.

A Panera would be nice.  Or McAlister's.

Melinda and Gary had us over Friday night for a holiday gathering.

Sully and Mike live in her living room. 

How freakin' awesome is that?

I found a box of Christmas stuff that I didn't bother to pull out last year.

Turns out I have ONE strand of double lights left.  

And those Santa Clauses that were my Granny's.

I still haven't found what I'm looking for...

the missing box of hand-crocheted bells and snowflakes; the rest of the double-lights, unknown ornaments collected over the years that I've forgotten since they went missing.

*sigh*

We're starting over, though.  We'll have things from 2009 forward...

I love this picture so hard.

I took a long nap in the early afternoon yesterday, then got up and played Sims for a while.

I got bored and went back to reading blogs - 

you're all doing so many wonderful, beautiful, traditional Christmas things, 

and I started to get sad that I've not done anything.

So I got up and started cleaning the living room.

I rearranged furniture and washed the slip covers.  I dusted and I vacuumed.

And when Jimi woke from his long nap, I said, "Let's go get a tree" and he said "Okay".

"Wait," I said.  "Do we even know where the Christmas things are?  The ones we still have?"

And so we had to unstack and look through all the boxes in the basement, 

but we found the box with the tree skirt and ornaments since 2009.

Jimi went to clean out his truck,

and I started thinking about what the perfect tree was going to look like,

and how we are going to string marshmallows and popcorn and cranberries to make garland,

and how we're going to make ornaments out of Sculpy so we can grow our collection for future Christmases.

And I started thinking about how much "live" Christmas trees cost.

And how good they smell.

And how I haven't had one since that first year when we lived on Camp Street...

Jimi picked that one up on his way home from work one night, as a surprise.  

I'd forgotten about that.  Aww.  

And the needles make such a mess, because they're not really "live", they're dead.  Cut down.

I went out to the drive where Jimi was moving the ladder from his truck to the garage.

"Don't be mad," I said.  "Okay," he said.  "I think I'm just going to decorate the Love Tree."  "Okay."

And that's what we did.  

We saved our $50, we saved a tree, 

and we saved me from picking pine needles out of the carpet in March.

YAY!

Our Christmas Tree has blooms and is alive.  

And Baby Jesus/Woodstock lived on the Blu-ray player, happily ever after.

Wait.  

That's not how that story goes, is it?  

Shut up.  

It's Christmas; we can pretend.

A few more Christmas pictures...

What a Christmas!

The last three days have been so much fun, so full of love and laughter and joy; I'm hungover and broke and exhausted and my house is a wreck, but I can't stop smiling.

I got a new camera!

To celebrate my excitement, here's a picture of a half-eaten piece of cake:

God bless us every one.

Merry Christmas!

My night in photos

The Cake:

(The candles are supposed to make a "39".  Lame, right?  I tried.)

The Meatloaf:

(I assume it's edible.)

And, finally, The Christmas Tree...or what's passing for one in our home this year:

(This is our "love tree".  It's a hibiscus that Jimi bought me 3 years ago.  It was half-dead and only cost $5.  It's very happy these days.  You can't see it, but there's a huge bloom on the very top.  It's acting as our angel.  Until it wilts and falls off tomorrow, at least.)

This may have disaster written all over it.

Jimi's either going to think I'm the best girlfriend ever or he's going to decide once and for all that women shouldn't cook.

I've made him a birthday cake, but I tried something new, and in retrospect, maybe his birthday cake wasn't the ideal time to start experimenting with new recipes.  If it sucks, I've got plenty of stuff to make a backup cake, but that would be sad.

Yesterday, our friend Andee brought Kim and I an amazing spread for lunch - a picnic basket full of goodies; grapes, green apples, caramel dip, strawberries, de-boned rotisserie chicken, crackers, almonds, hummus, a thermos full of apple cider - I mean, it was crazy.  She also brought two tins full of chocolate muffins, but these weren't just any chocolate muffins; they were made with only 2 ingredients - devils food cake mix and a can of pumpkin.  And they were delicious.  She made an offhand comment: "you can use any cake mix..."

So I made a cake with butter pecan cake mix and a can of pumpkin.  And I frosted it with cream cheese icing.  And I lined up pecans along the edges.  And I used those little sugar letters to spell out "Happy Birthday Jimi" and "I love you old fart" and then made a "39" out of the candles.

I hope it doesn't taste like poo.

I've got a meatloaf ready to go into the oven, too.  I don't eat meatloaf (I think I've mentioned that maybe?), but Alton Brown apparently does and so I used his recipe.  I hope it doesn't taste like poo.

I've got the potatoes cut and ready to boil for mashing.  The peas will only take a few minutes to steam, I'm assuming.

Only thing left to do is wait for the birthday boy to get home.

Oh, and I'm still not finished with my Christmas shopping.

Happy Vacation to Meeee!!!!

I only get to take a full week off work once a year, between Christmas and New Year, and only because our office is always closed at least 2 of the 5 days that week.  I've got one of those jobs where I'm pretty much the only one who can do it; I can be out for a day or two, but three is pushing it and forget about 4 or 5 in a row.  Billing must be done every day, and I've not yet (in 2.5 years) found the time to train someone else on how to do it.  Kim could totally handle it, but there's never time to show her.  Rick has asked me to show him, but again, who's got the free hour or so it would take? So the boss is willing to let billing go for a couple of days, but then I'm also responsible for all order entry, all production scheduling, all dispatch.  When I'm out, Rick handles the dispatch and limps his way through the order taking (mostly he takes notes so I can enter the orders when I return) and I always have production schedules printed in advance.  It takes a lot of effort to miss work, yo.  And it's always a nightmare when I return.  (But I'm not going to think about that right now.)

As of 5 o'clock EST today, I'm on vacation until 1/3/11.  That's like...a lot of days.  I'm so happy I could pee.

(Okay, today is the last day of our financial month, so I have to go in Monday or Tuesday and get all the tickets so I can do the final billing of the year.  But I can bring that work home and do it while I'm drinking a beer, so it only sorta counts as work.  I'm also planning to take some time next week to catch up on some projects.  I can drink beer while I do that too.  It's not so bad.)

Tomorrow is Jimi's 39th birthday.  I'm making meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and peas for his birthday dinner.  He doesn't know it, but I'm also going to make him a cake.  And I've got him a cool present.  But the meatloaf is the biggest deal; I don't eat meatloaf.  In fact, fuck meatloaf.  But baby loves it and misses it, so I'm going to make him one.  I'll probably fix myself a little pizza or something.  I certainly will not be eating meatloaf.  I hope it doesn't turn out badly - how in the world are you supposed to make and judge the quality of a meal if you find it repulsive and nasty in it's best incarnation?  Oh well.  He'll be kind and tell me he loves it even if it's awful.  He loves me that much.

Between the cake and the dinner, I've also got to clean the house and finish my Christmas shopping.  We're hosting his family for Christmas Eve, and while I'm not ashamed to have most of my friends see the hair-covered and shoe-strewn floors, or the sink full of dishes, or the random bullshit that never seems to find a home because I don't think it has a home, I will not have Jimi's family over for the first time to see our house so lived-in.  I will have it neat and tidy and spotless.  It's only right. 

Then on Saturday, we'll be at my parents' house first thing, bright and early.  I'm worried about my Momma and Daddy; I hope they're not too sad.  I hope their Christmas isn't ruined.  I hope brother's absence doesn't create a vacuum that sucks all of the fun and celebration out of the day.  Aunt Pam will be there; she's always a good time.  Especially if she drinks.  

Goodness, just thinking about the next few days exhausts me.  It seems like a lot; I'll need the break next week.  

A 3-day work week sounds awesome in theory.  In reality, it's rushed and busy and frustrating.  Especially if you're trying to prepare your desk for your vacation-induced absence. 

I have more.  I'll tell you it later. 

Gluttony makes it hard to sleep.

We had our office Christmas dinner last night; the boss treated us all to Ruth's Chris Steakhouse.  If you've never heard of it, it's a hoity toity fancy restaurant on top of the Kaden Tower here in town.  They've got the best steaks around, according to their reputation.

The food was good.  I had a crab-stuffed mushroom (there were 4 in the serving and I was supposed to be splitting them with Kim, but one was enough) and a bowl of their lobster bisque.  The bisque had wonderful pieces of lobster meat in it, but the stuff they make every Friday at The Bodega at Felice downtown is better, in my humble opinion.  For my main course, I followed the boss and his wife and ordered the Petite Filet, an 8 ounce filet mignon, and had it topped with bleu cheese.  I should've held off on the bleu cheese - the steak was probably better without it.  The meat was cooked to perfection and was melt-in-your-mouth tender.  I ordered the vegetable/potato trio as my side - I chose asparagus with hollandaise sauce, augratin potatoes, and onion rings for Jimi, who was much wiser than I and only ordered one side.  I didn't even try the potatoes - I was too focused on the meat and there just wasn't room for both.  The asparagus disappointed me.  It was room temperature and limp and the hollandaise sauce was served on the side, so I just dipped my limp spears.  It was tasty, but for an $8 serving of asparagus, I would've at least expected some heat and char marks or something; something more than limp and cold.  But whatever. 

For dessert Kim and I split their version of banana creme pie, and it was delicious, with caramelized bananas on top.  It also was the only part of the meal that was served in a manner that hinted at presentation - the rest of the food was brought out in small plain white casserole-like dishes with no garnish.  The pie was served in a large white bowl; around the rim, they caramelized sugar to make a cool textured pattern. 

Of course, I am very much a monkey-see, monkey-do sort of gal, so when the boss and his wife ordered a pot of coffee and were brought a Bodum press-pot full of delicious, Jimi and I had to order one of our own.  I had the dumb, though, and ordered regular rather than decaf.  I don't know what I was thinking - it was already 9 o'clock at night. 

We left the restaurant in a food-induced cloud of fat and happy, trying desperately to stave off the food coma that was threatening to engulf us all.  OMG, SO MUCH FOOD.

When we got back to my place, Kim and I decided the night wasn't quite over yet, so we hung out and gabbed and drank a few beers and talked about how a dinner that expensive should at least include a sprig of parsely or two for presentation's sake.  We're catty bitches, yes; and ungrateful too.  Okay, not really; it was the first time we'd been to this place, and after hearing it hyped up for years and years about how amazing the food is...well, it just wasn't quite what I'd expected.  It was delicious and the atmosphere was fantastic, it just wasn't as mind-blowing as I'd been told it would be.  I'm still very appreciative to the boss and the company for treating us so generously. 

Anyhow, so after Kim left for her home, it was after midnight and I was ready to crash.  I fell asleep pretty quickly, but then I woke up at 3 or so and never really went back to sleep.  Stoopid coffee.  Stoopid full belly.  I wasn't the only one; Kim is dragging ass today too - she shared some of our non-decaf coffee too, and says she didn't fall asleep until after 3.  I don't think she realized it was regular, because who orders regular coffee at 9 o'clock at night?  I'm sorry, Kimmie.

So another office holiday party has come and gone, and I didn't even get drunk and dance on a table.  There's always next year.  I'll try harder next year.  :)

If you're reading this tripe regularly, you may remember how I mentioned at 6:45ish or so on Friday morning that there were bunches of parties happening this weekend and I was feeling the need to be social so I was going to go to some of them.  I didn't.  (I know, let's all act surprised together...ready...GO!)

We had dinner at Tumbleweed (of all places) with Stacy and Jessie Friday night.  I say "of all places" because Jimi and I promised each other we'd never eat there again because, well, it sucks balls.  (Why do we say things like "it sucks balls" or "you suck!" or "cocksucker!" like they're insults?  In reality, most men I know adore cocksuckers, and they mostly enjoy a little attention to their balls too...I'm just sayin'.  Maybe we as a society need to reconsider and revamp our slurs.  I tried to start a trend where I said "that's so gay!" any time something was awesome, but people mostly just looked at me funny and then turned away, so I figured it wasn't going to catch on quickly and I should probably stop before people stopped talking to me altogether.)  Anyhow, we don't eat at Tumbleweed; it's just not what we do.  But we did, and much to my pleasant surprise, it was good.  I had a steak and a baked potato for $8, and both were tasty and better than I'd expected.  The flavor and enjoyment of my $8 meal may or may not have been improved greatly by good company and a $6 top-shelf margarita...but then again, isn't everything?

The puppies are ready for their new homes and so Jimi and I have been reminded that if we're taking a puppy, we need to get on with it and pick the one we want before they all find new homes and we're left with one less desirable or none at all.  As if there's a such thing as a less-desirable puppy; they're all so freakin' cute and sweet.  I'm in love with no fewer than 3 of the 5 remaining pups, and I don't know how I'll ever decide between them.  Mostly I'm waiting for Jimi to fall in love with one in particular so that can be our new baby that we bring home and make part of our happy little family.  He's a pretty good judge of people; I can't see why it would be any different when it comes to judging dogs.  He picked Finn, after all.

Hey, i know this is going to shock the hell out of you, but we planned on cleaning up the house on Saturday and then didn't.  I know, be still your heart and all that.  What we did do was go to McAlister's for lunch (where I had baked potato #2 just over 12 hours after I'd eaten #1 - I really should try to expand my palate), then shopped at Target for what felt like a hundred kadrillion years.  Jimi made me wander the store and do my own thing while he picked up stocking stuffers for me, because heavenfreakinforbid we actually do shit apart from one another like Christmas Shopping.  Anyhow, I did manage to check one thing off my not-ever-going-to-get-smaller-if-I-don't-start-buying-more-than-one-thing-at-a-time list.  So now my Christmas shopping is still not done, but at least it's a little less not-done than it was on Friday.

Saturday evening we were invited to several parties, but alas our(my) anti-social tendencies won out.  Besides, we'd been trying to get together with Brennan and Tiffany for weeks and it just never worked; this weekend it did, so they came over with the intention of playing Gloom.  The cards got shuffled and the players sorted, but we never actually dealt a hand or played a game; instead I made (then, as previously mentioned, burned) a batch of blondies, we gabbed about relationships and gossiped about friends, we drank coffee and ate little chocolate and vanilla wafer cookies our guests had brought to share, we laughed and shared stories and told tales.  Brennan used to be over almost every weekend and now we go months without breaking bread together; it's always good to spend time catching up.

HP7.1 was entertaining, even if I did get a little bored and wonder "is it over yet?" a time or two.  I hate cliff-hangers.  I want it all, and I want it now - just call me Veruca Salt.

James brought the bunnies and I fed them carrots (the ones I bought at the farmer's market last Saturday and let go limp in the 'crisper') and petted them and then Stacy came and took them away to her home where they're going to be killed and turned into dinner.  I shouldn't have petted them.  Poor bunnies.

I only have to work three days this week, then I'm off until 1/3/11.  (I'm not counting the fact that I'll have to come in the Tuesday after Christmas to do billing as actual "work", as I'm going to pick up the paperwork and take it home with me to complete.  If I don't have to put on a bra and answer phone calls it doesn't count as an actual work day.  That's the rule in my head.)  Oh, I hope this week is not a bitch.



So.  Many.  Words.

Hope your week is a good one!

Hidden things

We went searching for Christmas decorations in our house last night.  We found the LED lights Jimi put around the front porch last year, but no wreath and certainly no ornaments.  Rats.  We'll try again tonight, I guess.

We did find a lot of other cool stuff, though; stuff we mostly hadn't seen since it was boxed up in our old home in preparation for the move to this, the new home.  A box in the basement had been packed before I left El Paso in early 2006, I believe.  It held a treasure-trove of leftovers from my late teen years and early 20s; a few stuff animals, 2 old bottles of perfume, one I'd never wear again and one that was nearly full because I'd never really worn it - Jimi decided he likes the smell AND the bottle on that one, so I guess I'll have a new scent for a while; costume jewelry worn at prom and military balls; old cassette tapes (Milli Vanilli!!!  And Phil Collins!!!); a potpourri burner I remember "borrowing" from my Momma's kitchen counter; the old, heavy, silver-plated brush/comb/mirror set that was given to me as a child; a pink mesh wire basket in the shape of a pig (Jimi said, "You should take this to work!" and I said "You're only saying that because you want it out of your house!" and he said "You're right!!!" and we laughed and laughed because it was true); a couple of gold-plated rings my grandmothers gave me; a cheap cocktail ring that was my mother's that I'm pretty sure I may have lifted from her jewelry box once-upon-a-time.

I found old letters, too, from Kat, and a few cards she'd sent me.  I opened one up and started to read it; Jimi saw me and said "Is that from Kat?"  I affirmed that it was.  "You sure you want to read it?"  He knows me.  So well.  "You're right.  I don't."  I closed it up and put it back in the box, on top of the others.  I won't throw them away; not yet.  I'm not there yet.  Maybe I'll never be there.  Throwing them away is so permanent; yet another attachment to struggle with.

Speaking of Kat, I had a realization the other day:  you know, she had a lot of crazy shit going on in her head too, I bet.  Between coming home from a year in Kuwait, the boy disappearing from her life immediately thereafter, the craziness that is her family all the time - girlfriend had some shit going on.  And of course, because I'm a selfish fool and usually only focus on myself, I never once considered anything about where she may have been; I knew that I wanted to go out and I wanted to have a good time and I was in the middle of a divorce and I didn't want to spend my nights sitting around scrapbooking and I wanted to go out and meet new men and party and I and I and I, I, I...

I had this boyfriend once; his name was Charles.  Charles was my BFF long before we were anything beyond just friends.  I fell in love with him, and I fell HARD.  And when things fell apart for us, I hurt and missed him for, literally, years.  We were only a couple for a few short months, but it was at least 5 years before I stopped thinking about him every day. 

It feels like that with Kat, too.  I know we aren't meant to be and that it isn't going to work between us, but that doesn't stop me from missing the happiness and joy and light she brought to my life for the...god, how long was it?...15 years we were best friends.  I think about her all the time; I dream about her at least weekly.  I miss her.  I have girlfriends, plenty of them, but none like her; none that I've laughed with so much, none that I've told all my secrets to, none that can finish my sentences, none whose sentences I can finish, none with such a history.  It feels like there's an empty space in my heart. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Damn.  That's not where I intended to go with this.  I intended to write about how after we emptied that box in the basement, we moved to the closet in the front bedroom upstairs, where we found the lights that went on the porch last year and did not find the wreath, but we did find an old family photo album of Jimi's, which we're going to transfer into an acid-free album.  Holy shit, we may even scrapbook some of the photos!  My favorite find of the night, though, were 7 new-to-me books I purchased at the Book & Music Exchange shortly before we moved last year.  They'd been packed into a box and forgotten about; I have new things to read and this makes me a happy girl. 

Now if we could just find the Christmas stuff...

Yada yada yada...blah blah blah

This getting up early thing rocks.  It's five after 7, and I've eaten breakfast, showered, and moisturized.  I've watched the news (wind chill factor today?  -1.  YAY!  not.), I've caught up on the blogs that were posted after I went to bed last night (at 9, when I fell asleep curled up next to Jimi on the jaxx sac, then again at a quarter to ten, when I woke up and realized I wasn't in bed and had WAY too many clothes on.), I've put on pantyhose (I mentioned the wind chill factor, right?  I'm wearing them under my jeans.  It's effing cold.).

I'm so productive in the wee hours of the a.m.  I really enjoy having this time to chill before I have to go start my crazy day at work; it helps get my head in a good place.  And it's so much less frustrating than tossing and turning and trying to fight for some more sleep between the times of 6 and 7:15, which had become my habit.  That only makes me grumpy and late.

I learned yesterday that my Brother will not be home for Christmas; he's going to be where he's at for at least 90 days, Momma says.  That certainly sucks.  Actually, I'm really bummed.  I miss my brother.  I'm so sad for him that he's having to spend the entire holiday season so far away from those who love him, without any comforts.  No Christmas dinner that Momma spent hours putting together, no presents Christmas morning, no 24 hours of A Christmas Story, no hanging out in the family room with coffee and games and Christmas music.  No guitar-playing, no singing with the family the carols we were taught by Granny and Papaw.  No hugs and I love yous.  I'm so sad for him.  :(

Okay, that bummed me out and now I can't remember all the other stuff I was going to write.

OH!  My little sprouts I posted about last week?  Yeah, they died over the weekend. Apparently they were not able to survive two whole days without watering.  Which seems a little high-maintenance, if you as me, so eff them.  I would be really sad about the loss of this mini-plant, but I was only able to plant like 5 seeds in that teeny tiny pot, so I put the other 83423849 seeds in the dirt of the corn plant - and they've all sprouted and are living happily ever after.  I think they probably need more sun, but they seem to be doing okay.  That corn plant tolerates anything - Finn buried a bone in it once:

A few weeks ago, it sprouted a mushroom.  And now, the little sprouts.  (I don't know what they are - I bought them at the Target, in the dollar bins - and they're supposed to be little green leaves with little white flowers.  I've only got sprouts with tiny little leaves right now.)

I want coffee.  Good coffee.  Have I mentioned it's cold here?

Happy Tuesday!

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Everywhere but my house, at least.  We've not put up the first decoration, and I'm honestly leaning toward just not bothering with it this year.  I've got a box, somewhere, full of the ornaments I've collected since I became a grown-up and started putting up my own tree each year.  Inside are the hand-crocheted bells and snowflakes my Granny made, starched, and hung on her tree every year before she died.  That box hasn't been seen since it was put away after Christmas 2008; last year, 2 weeks after we'd moved to our new home, I went searching for the box, ready to decorate our new live tree - and it was nowhere to be found.  I tore through every square inch of our home looking for that box of sentimental treasures.  I don't care about the airplane ornaments left over from my ex-husband's hobby, I don't miss the Cinderella trinkets I'd collected over the years - but those snowflakes and bells lovingly made with my dear Granny's painfully arthritic hands, I've cried real tears over the loss of those.  My Momma says "I have some, Nat, you can have some of mine", but it's not the same. 

So it's been a year since the ornaments went missing, and I'm still mourning their loss.  I feel very Bah Humbug every time I think about it.  Christmas was so magical when I was a child, and it just doesn't feel that way to me anymore.  Now it's full of social engagements and present-buying and cookie-making, all of which cause me stress because we're supposed to look forward to this all year long and when it arrives I always find myself overwhelmed and broke and grumpy and short on time. 

Bah humbug. 

Maybe I'll have Jimi put some lights around the porch.  Maybe that'll help get me in the holiday spirit.  I've pretty much decided against a tree this year, as my ornaments are still lost, live trees are expensive, and fake trees are not real.  I keep asking Jimi "What do you think - skip the tree?" secretly hoping he'll be all "NO! We MUST have a tree!  We'll get all new ornaments and start our own decorating traditions", but he'll never do that, cause he's all Buddhist and shit and only says "Whatever you want to do, sweetheart.  This is your holiday, not mine."  And even if he did say we should get all new stuff, I'd still not want to because it would cost a fortune and we can do that after Christmas and save a million dollars. 

~sigh~

I do love the lights, and the good cheer, and the baking, even if it does stress me out.  I love spending time with my family, and watching everyone open the gifts I picked for them, and playing games, and laughing, and eating.  I love the fact that this is the ONLY time of the year where I can take a full week off work - 5 whole days in a row with a weekend on each end - and I love that with the way the holidays fall this year, I'll take 3 vacation days and be off work from 12/23 until 1/3.  That's a win, and there's no way to be sad about it.  And maybe the company will treat us all to a fancy-shmancy dinner at an expensive restaurant again - last year we went to Rivue, a revolving restaurant on top of the Galt House overlooking the Ohio River and downtown Louisville.  We felt like big shots for a few hours. 

So yeah, ho hum, Christmas time is here.  I'll get with the program soon.  I'm sure of it.

Meanwhile, today is Bodhi Day.  According to the link, "It is the Buddhist holiday that commemorates the day that Gautama is believed to have experienced enlightenment.... According to tradition, Siddhartha had recently forsaken years of extreme ascetic practices and resolved to sit under a Pipul tree and simply meditate until he found the root of suffering, and how to liberate one's self from it."  In celebration, I'm going to perform random acts of kindness.  That may just mean buying Kim's lunch and not telling an employee to go to hell, but it's a start.  :)  Happy Bodhi Day!