Christmas Eve 2010

It SO doesn't feel like Christmas Eve

Christmas in our house growing up was a huge deal.

My mom went all out though she never appeared to enjoy it.

She always just looked stressed and aggravated.

At least that's how I remember it.

*****

She loved to cook. I remember one December Saturday when I was maybe 9 our daddy took all 5 of us off somewhere. I think maybe to see the Rockettes at Radio City. She spent the whole day alone baking. It might have been the best day of her entire year. When we got home that evening, there were racks of cookies covering every surface of the kitchen and dining room.

Dark chocolate truffley things. Russian tea cakey things. Jelly filled things. Chocolate lacy things.

Yum

She made Christmas ornaments. Collected and spray painted pine cones. 12 drummers drumming out of clothespins. Lacy white crocheted snowflakes. I remember watching her stick them to the side of the box freezer in the basement, smeared with starch so they would dry stiff and hang flat on the tree. I remember us making felt Christmas Bells when I was 6 or 7 or 8. She had already taught me how to use a sewing machine. We cut the felt. We sewed them together. We glued the ric-rak. We punched holes and fixed colored grommets with some cool tool contraption she had.

We made the bells together. That kinda shit didn't happen very often.

She made us Christmas dresses every year. All 4 of us. We would go to the fabric store and pick out patterns and fabric and inevitably she'd be up till 3 am Christmas Eve eve finishing the last dress. Because on Christmas Eve dayshe started cooking. She'd pull together a menu from the December issues of Food and Wine and Bon Appetit and Gourmet. This was back in the day when it was almost impossible to find something like cardamom or fresh juniper berries. A crown roast or fresh oysters needed to be special ordered.

And the Midnight Christmas Eve service in our fancy Christmas Dresses.

Daddy and I sang in the choir we sucked

Candles. Incense. Heavily spiked eggnog.

What??? we were Episcopal

So. Not much Christmas Spirit around here. It's not my usual Grinchy-tude. I'm just not that into it this year. The kids put up the tree. I bought boxes ofprobably gross frozen finger foods at BJs to take to Sister Halona's for our Christmas Feast. Screw cooking. I voted we order in Chinese. Sister Halona almost excommunicated me after that.

The pict on my header? From last year. I got the lights up but they're not plugged in. A few blue balls are hanging. Maybe I'll get the rest up tomorrow yes tomorrow as in christmas

Jack looked out the window at the half decorated porch and said not to be criticistic mom, but you're like the last one to get your lights up.

Criticistic? Did you say criticistic? Is that a word?

It is now. I'm George Bush.

Fukin funny kid

*****

I snuck out this evening to fill my new xanax prescription pharmacy closed get some feminine hygiene products damn peri-menopause and buy last minute candy for stocking stuffers.

I drove down Main St, looking at the lights and thinking about how un-christmasy I feel.

Filled up the van with gas and picked up my Friday night 6 of hard cranberry lemonade.

Mr Gas Station Man asked for my ID.

I loved that

ID? Of course! hee hee hee Handed over my license.

Puzzled look on Mr Gas Station Man's face. I chuckled

Is this you? Which is funny cause I look even younger on my ID

Yup. I pulled off my glasses and laughed. 47. Good genes

He smiled and said God Gives

I smiled back and said He Sure Does

The Universe is Abundant

Merry Fuckin Christmas

This isn't effin Kansas anymore

I've always loved that movie. I think it's the most perfect movie ever made.

Every single second of every single scene is a perfect still shot.

I've loved it since I was 3. The Wicked Witch of the West always scared the shit out of me.

And my nose always stings when Dorothy says goodbye to the Scarecrow.

*****

I feel just a little ok maybe a lot like I've landed in Oz.

Things are somewhat familiar but also intense and heavy and my emotions have been splashed with a bucket of Technicolor.

But I still feel like me.

Which I guess is a good thing.

Me. Up in a cyclone.

Watching the elements of my day my life tumble past my picture window eyes.

Me. Looking for Peace and a way Home.

Me. Building my Posse along the way.

A Cast of Characters, also searching for their missing parts but who have such good lessons to teach and such good lovin help to give.

Friends. Patients. Co-workers. A Sears Repair Technician that's a story for another day. Bloggers who pour their guts out.

All on their own Yellow Brick Roads. Their crazy life situations tossed in my path as a reminder that we're all in this together.

As a reminder that I am the lucky one.

As a reminder that things could be so much worse.

There but for the grace of god go i.

I have my health. Physical and mental sort of. My kids are pretty ok for now. I have resources.

I am extraordinarily fortunate even in the presence of Oz the Great and Terrible.

I have my Field of Poppies in the form of a baby dose of xanax and a Mike's Hard Lemonade at bedtime.

A bitch needs her sleep, right SB?

So there you go. Trying to find my way back home. There's no hourglass. There isn't even really a Wicked Witch. Just a long path.

But I have good shoes with lots of support and a high arch so I'm ok.

I'll see you on the Road.

Reflection

It's been a week of reflection.

I haven't stepped foot in blogland. I've used the time to think and process and understand.

And feel.

It's been quiet here.

Not a bad quiet. Kind of a hmmm... maybe this is ok quiet.

A calm quiet.

Maybe a good quiet.

I don't know yet.

It's been a week of lots of deep breaths.

And lots of deep thoughts and lots of deep feelings.

It's been a week of honesty.

Love this. I've been afraid of changing cause I've built my life around you

ignore the dumb-funny ad in the beginning

I've linked to it before. It squeezes my heart.

A Christmas Treat

This is The Funniest Holiday Post I've ever read.

And since Christmas is all about sharing, I'm sending it to you as a gift.

Cause you are all awesome and I want you to giggle today.

xoxoxo

Sunday School from the Beacon Satellite Chapel of the Church of the Batshit Crazy

This was last Sunday's post before the shit hit the fan.

I'm terrible at thank-you notes but I want to thank each and every one of you awesome bloggers for your comments and emails and most of all your love.

You have given me strength and perspective.

You got me through.

thank you

*****

I understand about a fingernail's worth of the Hindu religion and culture. It's insanely complicated and convoluted and there are like 47 Sanskrit words that seem to all mean the same thing. Or one word can mean 112 different things.

Ganesh Ganesha Ganapati Vinayaka Omkara Vighnahara

that's just the beginning

he has 108 different names

I love the mythology. I love the symbolism. I love the color and the intensity and the ornamentation. It's malleable. It's multilayered. It sits well with me. From the million gazillion symbols and specifics, I could conjure my perfect Ganesh.

Ganesha

Guardian of the Indian Home

Remover of Obstacles

Lord of Beginnings

Lord of Farming

Lord of Learning

Anyone can invoke Ganesha

He requires no priest as intermediary

He transcends religious, class, and caste

I first knew Ganesha as

the Remover of Obstacles to Happiness

since I don't believe in happiness

my dark and twisty

tweaked it to

the Remover of Obstacles to Understanding

much better

I don't need to be happy

I just need to understand

And I began to understand

Ganesha

all apparent contradictions

in the Universe and in my Brain

can be contained in Ganesha's big belly

Ganesha's trunk curves to the left

forming the shape of the sacred syllable OM

the vibration at the origin of the cosmos

Ganesha appeared with the sound

and danced the Universe into existence

the great sage Vyasa agreed to recite

the epic narrative of India

only if Ganesh agreed to

write it down

without halting.

the recitation went on for weeks

when all his pens were worn down,

Ganesha broke off his tusk and dipped it in ink

thus saving the story of India

as the Bhagavad Gita

i've tried to read it 3 times but it continues to be ice picks in my eyes

sigh

Ganesha

the Lord of Storytellers

funny huh?

the lotus flower symbolizes all of creation

as well as spiritual purity

the bowl of sweets represents the

pleasures of knowledge and spiritual wisdom

In one hand, my Ganesha holds an axe

to break the bonds of ignorance

the axe also severs

the ties that bind us to material things

One hand is raised with the symbol of enlightenment

OM

see! it means a bunch of different things

which comes with liberation from all want and desire

the Serpent coiled around Ganesha's belly

symbolizes Kundalini Shakti

the coiled and latent psychic energy

deep within each of us that seeks union

with the undifferentiated consciousness

of the Universe

we are all one

though Ganesha's many arms are raised to attain the spiritual

one foot always remains well grounded

amen

Suffering

There's a whole lot of suffering going on.

I had this thought on my way to work.

And at the same time I thought no wonder we created religion

We have too.

There is no other way to explain the place that suffering occupies in our existance as a species.

Unless life just sucks and then we die.

Now, I'm not saying our suffering is proof of anything beyond this life.

Nor am I saying that our suffering serves any purpose at all.

But it exists.

And it tortures us.

And maybe as humans with our oversized brains, we have to make things overly complicated.

We have to explain and understand and rationalize and punish.

We need rules.

When we break the rules we suffer.

When we commit transgressions we suffer.

Yet sometimes we are innocent and find ourselves in the crosshairs of a tsunami or crosstown bus or a violent military regime or a misfire in a cell's nucleus that results in cancer.

And we suffer.

We suffer because we are human.

We make mistakes because we're human.

We make sucky decisions because we're human.

I work really really hard to do the best I can. And still I fuck up.

I'm only human.

And maybe humans fuck up, or maybe we just exist, but no matter what we suffer.

So. There must be a point to all the suffering.

Or not

I have found that my suffering breeds compassion.

Today I am grinch butt free. Today I am giving thanks.

Today I can get lost in my patients and feel their suffering because I'm experiencing my own.

So. I am responsible for the choices I make.

I am human. I fuck up. And then I suffer.

And others suffer too.

But I am thankful that the Universe gives me a silver lining of compassion

rather than bitterness or anger or hatred.

At least for now.

Unbloggable

Last time, there was so much fear. And the fear lead to anger.

And the anger allowed me to plow through. I did not give a damn.

I probably looked like a Heartless Bitch.

unless you know the 12 steps

This time, there is only overwhelming sadness.

I have always chosen my children above all else.

No anger. Only a smidge of fear. it will be ok

This time, there is only enormous loss. And enormous heartbreak.

And sadness.