Out here having fun

In that old California sun.

72 degrees folks. I sat by the pool and read my book. Later I went to the market. In flip flops.

It's a sun shiny day.

Got Jul

We've reached that wonderful point in the holidays where it seems as though it's always been Christmas and always will. Time has no meaning and one day rolls into the next in a haze of chocolate and cookies and egg nog.

It's the most wonderful way to spend Christmas. I picked up a few last minute presents today. I stopped by a few friends houses to say hello and wish them Merry Merry.

"I know it's incredibly rude to just show up unannounced, but it's Christmas and I couldn't let it go by without saying hello."

What can I say? We're Yankees. We don't stop by unannounced. At Christmas, though, it's okay.

We ate lasagna for dinner while watching It's A Wonderful Life. I was good this year. I didn't start to cry until Mary said, "George Baily I'll love you til the day I die."

I cry at everything.

Then it was off to the Christmas Eve celebrations. And oh! Did we celebrate.

Tomorrow it's presents and mass and then off to CA for vacation.

Merry Christmas. And God bless us, everyone.

Congratulations

Oh! Wow! I did it!
Made it to Friday, that is.

Truthfully, I didn't think I'd make it.
Wednesday was so bad, I thought Thursday would have to be better.
Nope! I was wrong. Thursday was worse.

I even threw a temper tantrum.
At work!
Over the capitalization of the seasons!

"Well, you could capitalize it, but it would be WRONG. If you don't have a problem with sending it out WRONG, then fine by me."

Then I sent an email with links to 4 different grammar/style websites PROVING to them that I was right. And then, I copied out the text from the Chicago Manual of Style, just in case they needed more proof.

And then, after all that, I went around to each person's desk and apologized for my behavior.

I could use a little grace, folks.

Merry Merry

My goodness but I am in love with New York right now. I know it's tiresome to go on and on about it. Who wants to hear "everything is so wonderful, I live in the best place ever"? Certainly not I. Much like when people go on and on about how wonderful their friends are. No really. Theirs are the best. No one else ever had a group of friends so wonderful and no one else could possibly understand how great it feels to have these friends. (My but that was a bitter digression, I'm happy you have friends. They're nice things to have. Got some myself. Really like 'em, too.)

But still. Christmas in New York is lovely.

Last night was the annual tree lighting in Washington Square. Leave Rockefeller Center and the madness of mid-town to the tourists and b&t crowed, for me there is nothing like my neighborhood tree. Right under the arch, at the bottom of 5th Ave.
A band plays and people from the neighborhood gather to sing Christmas carols. I stopped by for a bit on my way home from work. Got in a few bits of Adeste Fidelis and left as they started in on Rudolf. Ah. Life is good!

Merry Christmas!

When I was in college there was an ad for Tide or some other laundry soap. A shapely and comely lass walks into a laundry mat and proceeds to strip down to her skanties and then some eventuallly holding onto a modicum of dignity by way of a strategically placed New York Times.

After this commercial aired, several of the gentlemen living in my dorm made a habit of haning out in the laundry room. Hopping against hope, I suppose, they'd catch a glimpse. Or something.

Anyway, this died out after a couple of weeks. Reality v. television, or so I thought.

Fast forward to last night. My black trousers were in dire need of cleaning. Really, it was getting gross. My general laziness combined with my rather busy schedule left little time to get to the cleaners. Even if they are directly accross the street from my apt. I can't explain what came over or why it seemed like a good idea, but I walked straight home last night and, instead of crossing into my apt building, I strode into the cleaners and- TOOK OFF MY PANTS. Yes. I took my pants off, handed them to the girl behind the counter, picked up my ticket (no ticky, no panty). I wrapped my coat around myself and walked accross the street, up the stairs and into my apt.

What the hell is the matter with me?

One of Eight Million

Living in New York is like being in an abusive realtionship. One moment you're bruised and battered and the next, well, you're sitting in New York's lap and he's stroking your hair, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

A weekend like the one just passed leaves me wondering how I could ever leave this city. The first snow, the over-whelming kindness of strangers, the convenience, the wonderful off-beat nature of life on this isle, it just leaves me feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

What can I say? I love New York.