Stuff I bought

I got up early today, finished the chores, dolled myself up (as much as I do, which frankly, constitutes little more than running a comb through my hair, washing my face, and slapping on moisturizer with SPF 30) and made a quick run to Target. If I don't get this over with first thing in the morning, I won't go. Any later than opening and the parking lot is full, forcing me to park in the boonies (and I don't want to walk from the boonies to the store in this heat), the store is full of bitchy moms trailed by passels of kids, and the traffic makes me irritable.

So, I went to Target...moving on...

Here's what I bought:

Do towels require explanation? The towels in the drawer are getting to be threadbare.

These containers might come in handy for Steve's lunch.

Steve's underware is full of holes, and I'm sick of it.

Colored sponges, so that we won't get confused between the handwash sponge and the sponge used to wash pet dishes. I have many times caught Steve using the sponge for pet dishes on handwash dishes, and nearly vomited. I couldn't help but wonder how many times he'd made the mistake when I wasn't around to freak out on  him.

I might be the last person in America still using scrunchies. I love 'em, and I won't give them up. Although, they are more and more difficult to find. I must be careful with these.

I bought this particular box of Lucky Charms because it advertises More Magic mini Charms. That sounds wonderful. I can't wait to find out. That is a Family Size box of Cocoa Pebbles for $2.54. What a deal.

This might have been the cheapest clock radio on the shelf. I think it was $11.99. Allow me to share the difference between a $30 clock radio and a $12 clock radio. Reception. I have to stand on my head, with my arms sticking out with a hanger gripped between my feet to get the radio to come in on this thing.

"Why should I spend $30 on a clock radio when I'm sure the one for $11.99 will do the trick?" Why indeed.

Later in the afternoon, I drove all the way to Nordstrom to buy a pair of FitFlops. Because they were out of size Gargantuan, I left empty handed.

After a lifetime spent drilling the full force of my weight into my heel with each step, and thusly overpronating, compounded by my billion pound gain over the last 20 years, I have developed plantar fasciitis. At first, I thought my foot was punishing me for wearing a particularly cheap pair of flip flops. I thought it would go away. Three months of hobbling tells me that it's time for more than simply favoring my foot. I've been reading, and believe that FitFlops (and a decent pair of inserts) might be the key to salvation.

Steven's sister has this, and she is such a drama queen that I always ignored her complaints. But this really is for the birds.

Gawd! I just reviewed this for mistakes and whatnot, and I am in some kind of icky mood! I think its the caffeine. I rarely drink anything containing caffeine, but I stopped at Panera for lunch today and had a Coke. I always get a wee cranky when I've had soda.

Done!

After putting it off for the last couple of months, I finally completed my FAFSA. I can't really explain why I procrastinated. But here I am, with school starting in a month, and last night at close to 11 o'clock, I finished. Whew!

Now I wait. 

To find out how much I get...or don't get. 

And then I get my loans.

And then, I pay for school!

Hooray!

Steve is away on business, so I have the car. Having the car at my disposal for the week, I planned to be all over town doing fun stuff, and running errands. I've barely left the house. In fact, I've spent the time reading and sleeping. In about two months, I will reflect on this week with envy.

Each time I'm on the verge of berating myself for my lazy ways, I cut myself some slack. I figure that with school starting in a month, I'll soon be pulled in many directions, so why not enjoy the few remaining days of quiet? Yes, enjoying the moment instead of obsessing about tomorrow. 

I've been invited to attend a meditation class. I forget when it starts, but it meets six Tuesdays in a row. Unfortunately, I've got class Tuesday night. I would love to learn to meditate. 

I didn't brush my teeth this morning. I feel concurrently gross, and like a rebel. Such seditious behavior!

Rainy Days

Rainy days are a gift. 

The house is darker in the day, requiring lamps, which makes everthing cozy. Outside is a waste, so you have the perfect excuse to remain indoors reading, napping or baking brownies (or exercising or whatever).

The rain recharges my batteries, and I love it!

Once Upon A Time

I was about ten years old when I asked, "Mom? Do you believe in soulmates?" After she answered, "I think that you can love just about anyone if you really put your mind to it." I sat quiet. My mind was blank, and I was sad. Clearly, she did not think my father her soulmate, and worse, she didn't believe in soulmates. 

I wanted her to believe so that I could believe.

About twelve years ago, I met Leif. After several months of knowing him, I came to believe that he was "the one". We weren't a couple long enough for us to transition beyond the you-are-awesome-I-am-awesome-lovey-dovey stage 1. Then, he went into the Peace Corps (be still my Liberal heart). I loved him even more.

At the time, I felt so grown-up about my unapologetically pragmatic attitude toward his leaving. I said so-long to Leif and wished him well in his work. Though, for many years after, I dreamt of his farm-boy smile and crystal blue eyes. My heart was broken, and I was not moving on.

I didn't know what to do.

Eventually, I began to date. No one compared to Leif. I was not optimistic that anyone ever would.

Then I met Steve.

At once, I was flushed and silly, and I knew that he was my second chance. He immediately began occupying the part of my heart that I didn't even realize lay dormant. I wasn't consciously waiting to serendipitously again cross paths with Leif. I wasn't consciously saving my heart for him. But I was, until I met Steve.

Once upon a time, I met the love of my life.

He was wonderful, and we were wonderful.

Then he moved away, and I moved on.

Then I got a second chance.

And I did not squander it.

You get what you believe in.

My own private vanity

Not once in my life has anyone ever complimented me on my hands. And yet, I have always thought that I had very pretty hands. I liked my long fingers and evenly shaped nails. I liked that my hands were strong without being masculine. 

All of this, I kept to myself.

While working at the computer, writing, driving...anything really, I noticed and admired my hands.

It was about four years ago that I first noticed an unmistakeable crepeiness appear. I was alarmed. I thought, "So this is what getting old looks like."

Getting old starts slow.

Then it generates momentum.

Then it is over in a flash.

I'd always wondered how people got old. People either seem young, old or older. Before now, I never noticed a "sorta old". I think that I am looking "sorta old".

My hands remained subtlety crepey for a couple of years. Just a hint of old that I alone noticed.

I vainly attempted to stave the aging by applying hand creams. Unfortunately, the creams were promptly shed when I washed my hands, or did the dishes, or washed the floors, or cleaned the bathrooms or any of the myriad activities that accelerate the aging of hands. The hands creams ultimately proved a waste of time.

I recently turned 40. And, honest-to-God, it seemed that as the clock struck midnight, the crepeiness overtook my hands entirely. I woke, took one look and thought, "It's over. I am old."

I don't feel old, I am not sad to be getting older. In fact, I feel like I am growing more into myself, feeling more satisfied with my choices than I ever have. I am thrilled to be continuing to evolve. But, I absolutely, unequivocally hate, hate, hate my hands not looking like my hands, but the hands of an old woman. The skin is beginning to sag. And now? I am starting to notice the crepeiness inching up my arms. 

I feel too young to look old, and I don't like it.

It kind of sucks.

I figured that I better get a picture of my hands before they get worse.

I wish that I taken a picture of my hands before they grew old.

Wrinkly Old Hands

Africa Hot

Last week, the part of the air conditioner that sits outside the house sounded odd. I told Steve about the noise, and he made an appointment to have a technician inspect the unit. The appointment was for Wednesday morning at 8am. At 8:15am, with no technician in sight, we called the company. They claimed the tech was running a little late. At 9am, we call the company again, and they said that the tech had a blow-out on I-4, at the Maitland exit, and had to return to the office for a spare because their policy is that their employees do not travel in company vehicles without usable spare tires.

Does all of that sound like a load of crap? It did to us. So, we told them to forget it. I wasn't home to take the call, but later in the morning, Sean (the air conditioning technician) left a message on our machine asking us to call him back, that it was very important.

We did not return Sean's call. My instinct tells me that Sean had a late night, that he is regularly late to appointments and is generally unreliable, and that because his tardiness caused his company business, he was in hot water. That is no concern of mine, and I have no intention of involving myself in that guy's life. Sorry Sean, get your head out of your ass, and you'll be a raging success.

Moving on.

The air conditioner when completely kaput later that day.

Florida.

June.

94 degrees in the shade.

Wonderful.

I called another company and got an appointment for Friday morning. I told them what happened with the other company, and that if I sniffed any bullsh*t, I'd tell them to take a leap the same way I'd told the other company.

The service man showed at 8am on the dot. 

Good.

His diagnosis was that we needed a new motor, and that it would cost a cool $512. We told him we'd think about it, and sent him on his way. 

Steve looked the motor up online, and the part cost $109. $400 in labor? I don't think so. Steve said that he was sure he could do it himself, only problem was that the store that sold the part locally was M-F, 8-5. 

Oh boy. We'd already been without air since Wednesday afternoon, now we'd have to wait until Monday? I was determined to tough it out, but I wasn't 100% sure that I was up to it. That first night was horrible. It was hot, hot, hot! Neither one of us could get comfortable, sweaty as all get out, sticking to our pillows. It sucked.

We were lucky to have a free-standing fan on hand, so we put that to use, and things weren't half bad. I looked like a mental patient, permanently flushed, permanently greasy face and frizzy hair sticking out in all directions. However, the experience did offer a surprising slice of nostalgia. 

Except for when company was visiting, my mom never, ever ran the air in our house when I was growing up. We had fans going in every room, all the time. We played in the pool, read, did anything that didn't add heat to the house. We lived on salads and iced tea (avoiding heating the house via the kitchen). Most things about my childhood sucked, but the absence of air conditioning returned me to a time when I had no worries, and I felt safe. I was completely caught off guard to feel at ease while standing directly in front of a fan inside a house that registered over 90 degrees. I also hadn't realized how stressed out I've been.

Indeed, Steve repaired the air conditioner, we are "back to normal", and I am grateful to have been vividly reminded of a time in my life that was truly simple.

Where Have I Been?

I started this as a way of keeping in touch with friends who don't live near. My friends weren't interested in the whole blog thing, preferring Twitter, Facebook, Myspace, etc. I didn't want to do any of those, so that was that, and this blog was abandoned. But now, Melanie has asked where went ye olde blog, and I am tentatively reviving it.

Here goes...

Well Melanie, you pretty much know how I've spent the past six months: wrapping up home improvement projects, hosting scores of company, getting ready for grad school, living in denial that I live in an animal shelter that doubles as a homestead, planning vacations that will never materialize because the pennies aren't in the bank to finance the wild adventures of which I dream. But, I remain optimistic, and feel good about my life.

Two weekends back, I thought my dog was on the brink of death, so Steve and I freaked out and took him on field trips around the area. Then, because Turner (the hound dog) improved (the result of a drastic change in diet that requires us to cook his food - and is going to be the death of me), Steve and I have mellowed...some. We have decided that we're not going to vaccinate him anymore, so that means no more doggie daycare, because [understandably] they won't accept animals that aren't vaccinated. That's that. Steve & I will not be going out of town together, unless we can bring along the hound. At Christmas, when we go to his parent's, we'll be able to bring Turner, but that's the only place we'll go together. I'm a little bummed.

This is from this morning

They quickly pump the fluid from their abdomen into their wings

Those yellow "horns" are a defensive adaptation

I am shocked that I was able to capture this bee. My garden hums with bees all day long, but they move so fast, they are hard to get on film.

The butterfly factory is cranking along. As of today, we've released 50 Monarch butterflies. There are Gulf Fritillaries and Swallowtails in the pipeline. We are on track to release 100 butterflies in total by the end of summer.

I love having a butterfly garden, but sometimes, it feels more like work and less like a fun hobby. I question if  I'm doing the right thing by helping to keep butterflies going when more and more habitat is lost daily. My yard is a lone oasis in my area, and I worry that I am releasing all of these butterflies only to starve if they leave the protection of my yard. In fact, most of my neighbors spray harmful chemicals intended to decimate the insect population in the area. 

Hopefully, I am keeping something important going until humanity annihilates itself, and the insects and animals will have the planet to themselves.

Christmas Day

We drove to New Smyrna and cleaned garbage from the beach.

USA Today

Good article...

Sunny Times

We're under a tornado watch. This kind of weather always freaks me out.

Yesterday, the weather was beautiful. It was the kind of weather that inspires sonnets; standing in the sun's rays, it felt like a cozy blanket, balmy and cool in the shade. Gentle breezes...I wanted to roll up my sleeves and attack the weeds that have crowded out nearly every flower in my garden. But, there were other tasks on yesterday's agenda.

I finished packing the gifts for Steve's family. We had little luck finding bio-degradable packing peanuts. Steve is the smart one - he finally checked online. Who'd a thunk it, but U-Haul sells them??!! There's a U-Haul around the corner, so that was easy enough. Got everything secured and tapped. FedEx 2-day ground, $35! Woo-hoo! I really thought it was going to be at least double.

Then, I drove to Mon Delice to buy two boxes of pastries for Steve's office. I always buy a variety, but it turns out that Steve's colleagues were partial to the eclairs and ignored everything else. That is a bummer. Not only was it a waste of money, but it was a waste of a special treat. Also, Steve thought I bought too many. He only wanted them for his group of 10. Okay, I'll remember that for next time. The good news is that Mon Delice probably has about nine new customers - like they need more business.

When I was in Mon Delice yesterday, hoping to avoid running into Pam, I tried to keep a low profile. She saw me. It was actually really nice to talk to her again, but I hate seeing people who I worked with at Disney. 

Working at Disney was not the same for me as it was for my friends. I hated it, and I felt trapped. I liked the idea of performing, but I'm not a performer, and there is not an extroverted bone in my body. Seeing old friends reminds me of a starkly sad time in my life. Retelling old stories reveals a glaringly spiteful and shallow person, and I am shamed. I don't laugh at the stories, I cringe. There is nothing about that time of my life that I want to relive.

I am finally comfortable with who I am, in fact I really like who I am now. If I was the person I am now, then, I would have quit working at Disney after my first summer. More than likely, I would have quit after the first week. I didn't connect with anyone there. I was quiet, studious and reserved, but friendly. Those qualities don't cut the mustard at Disney. I adapted to my environment in the ugliest possible way. I abandoned who I was, and who I wanted to be in favor of acting like an asswipe.

I acquired my Disney family being someone I'm not. I would never be friends with those people today. My decision to retreat from all things Disney has caused some hurt feelings. No one will believe me when I explain that they wouldn't have fun with me now. By their standards, I honestly believe that they would regard me as a fuddy-duddy and ask repeatedly, "What happened to Katie? She is SO boring!" I don't think I'm boring, I'm simply theorizing about their reaction to seeing me again.

Pam told me that an old friend - Jeff - has been frantically looking for me. I was surprised, but told her that I thought that Jeff and I should leave things as they are. I told her that all I ever wanted for Jeff was for him to be happy. I hope he's happy. She answered by sharing that he is "still high maintenance." Her words. Bingo. High maintenance. He sucked the life out of me.

Okey-dokey! There's dirty clothes to wash, a door to paint and dishes to clean. I'm off! 

Weekend wrap up

We visited another farmer's market last Saturday. This time, in Sanford. It is a wee little market, with only a few vendors, but it is a REAL farmer's market. Everything is actually LOCAL! Finally! We bought eggs, tomatoes and a couple of cucumbers. Next time, we're going to buy a loaf of bread and maybe some cheese.

My lemon tree is loaded. Last year, I gave a couple of bags to Steve's mom, but there were so many, I couldn't use them all. I refuse to let these beautiful lemons go to waste this year. I am lucky enough to live where citrus grows, and even luckier to have a lemon tree in my yard. I am going to honor this tree by using all of the lemons.

Last night, I made lemon bars. Steve and I ate a couple; the rest, I packed and sent to Steve's office with him this morning. Last Friday, I baked chocolate chunk cookies. Because I couldn't find the semisweet chocolate I like, based on a recommendation, I used bittersweet chocolate. Steve told me that everyone at his office was complimentary, but I prefer semisweet.

This is my cat, Hilda. It's a miracle this picture turned out; she is the squirmiest thing ever! She kept sniffing the lens and batting at the lanyard. As soon as I took this picture, she took another swat at the lanyard. 

Brighter Day!

Brighter Day!

Brighter Planet will offset a free day’s worth of carbon emissions in your name — all they ask is that you make an effort to conserve energy this holiday season. Please click on the words Brighter Day (highlighted above) to make it happen! Woo-hoo!!!!

Evolution

I met my friend Barbara at Starbucks Monday morning. She and I only get together a couple of times a year. I absolutely adore her, and wish we saw each other more. In fact, she is one of the people I most admire, and whose opinion most matters to me. It is because I admire her so much that it pains me to admit that I basically drove her away. She only gets together with me for the sake of old times. I am embarrassed by that truth, but I am also grateful for her company and wisdom.

I have known Barb since I was about 15 years old. She was my brother's friend. I liked her immediately, and was surprised that someone so cool would be friends with an asshole like my brother. We were always friendly, but I figured that she was nice to me because she's a nice person, and that was about it.

Fast forward fifteen years, and she and my brother are dating. I thought from the start that no good would come of the relationship. I warned her to end it before she got hurt. I would have loved to be related to her by marriage, but predictably, my brother screwed her over. She was devastated, and I always admired her so deeply that I indulged her desire to rant and vent. Anything to be friends with her - even if it meant enabling an unhealthy fixation on my brother.

A friendship - of sorts - was born.

For many years, I obsessed about my own fixation; my identity was that of a hurt and angry person, and all I talked about was how badly my family mistreated me. I was traumatized by family's choices where I was concerned, and I didn't even know it. It is so easy to reflect and ask, "How did I not see?" But, I didn't. I had no idea that that single obsession was driving everyone from me. 

I have learned, and I continue to heal and evolve. 

What do I do now? Everyone got sick of listening to the broken record that was me. Most of those people, I'll never get back. They closed the door, and put about 20 padlocks on it. I get it. I would have done the same. Who wants to be around a crazy, angry, vengeful nutcase? It is exhausting to be around people like that.

When Barb and I were at Starbucks Monday, it seemed like she could tell that things were different with me. She even suggested that we get together after the holidays. I want to believe that it is more than another pity get together. I'm going to go regardless.

In traffic

I was stuck behind this person yesterday. 

I agree with their message, but I think less of them for posting it all over the ass of their car.

"Week in Review"

On Tuesday of last week, my friend Linda told me that she was coming over to visit for a couple of days after Thanksgiving. I spent the next couple of days frantically cleaning my filthy home. She ended up not coming over. Unfortunately, the threat of company is the only thing that motivates me to clean my house, so I'm not even marginally upset that she changed her plans. Living in a clean home has been wonderful.

Linda & Bill, and Steve & I went to the Gaylord Palms for Thanksgiving dinner. It was okay. We had fun because the four of us always have a good time together, but as far as the restaurant goes, I wouldn't do it again. The restaurant's greed got the best of them; it wasn't enough to charge $42 per person, but they also stuffed every spare area with extra tables and chairs. The dining room was so cramped that it was difficult to get up from our seats. 

We spent Friday lazying around. 

We saw Four Christmases on Saturday. You'd think that for a splashy production with all kinds of big stars, they'd spring for a decent wig for Reese. Near the end of the movie, the tired wig they popped on Reese's head was a distraction. The movie didn't make any sense. Reese and Vince start out happily together, not married, but also feeling no obligation to define their relationship. They spend the movie trotting to the homes of their divorced parents (hence the name). The time spent with their parents sucked, and that somehow inpired a change of heart in Reese. By the time they pulled up to her father's home (the last stop on the Odyssey), Reese wants a relationship talk; wants to know where things are going. What???!!!!  There were a few laughs, but overall the movie failed. Meh.

We got up for the farmer's market on Sunday. I wanted to buy some eggs, but I got things confused. The local chicken farm doesn't sell eggs at this farmer's market. 

The Orlando Farmer's Market is more of a craft fair. There is only ONE veggie vendor. Wha?! One? Huh? I do not get all of the incense and candle vendors. Who is buying all of that incense?

We took a nice stroll around the lake. Because of the cold temperatures, the Cypress Trees are losing their needles. They remind me of fall foliage.

I've lived in Orlando all my life, and I've driven past Brian's countless times, and never stopped. I've read glowing reviews of Brian's places like here and here and here. Finally, I ate there.

The restaurant was dirty. The service was unfriendly. The food was disgustingly greasy/stale/burned. It was just gross. 

The sweet bun basket was a combo of sweet rolls and a powdered sugar coated fritter. The fritter tasted like fish sticks. The sweet roll was just okay. 

Bottom line: Avoid!

No, I don't want a "Fresh" strawberry or blueberry short stack. I don't care to have "Today's Special" either.

Tradition

Big Pine Key, November 2007

When I was growing up, holidays were a nightmare for me. 

I was an outsider in my family. For 363 days of the year, no one seemed to notice or care. But on Thanksgiving and Christmas, my mother demanded that our family present themselves as a cohesive, loving group. Even though we were anything but, she wanted people to think that we were a family worthy of tribute in a Norman Rockwell painting. What this all really meant was that I had to pretend to fit in, or I would be in big trouble. 

I was a crappy actress. I know this because even though I tried as hard as I could to behave as though it was normal for my family relate to me in a tender, loving way, I was punished. It sucked.

I am thankful that those years are behind me. I am thankful that Steve and I have developed our own traditions.

With the exception of this year, we typically vacation in the Keys over Thanksgiving. We take advantage of the four-day weekend; spending lazy days kayaking, hiking, biking, sleeping, browsing through shops and eating great food. It is unquestionably awesome. If we ever have children, we will continue to spend Thanksgiving in the Keys.

Christmas is quieter. Every other year, we visit his parents in South Carolina (although, one of their gifts from us this year is a webcam, so we may never go up there again). The year we stay home, we catch a movie at the Village and have lunch at Wolfgang Puck. That is also total awesomeness. The village is decorated beautifully, Christmas music is on the sound system and we're completely happy for it to be just the two of us (among the other thousand people with the same idea).

When we get home, we watch Christmas movies. For supper, we devour the Wolfgang Puck takeout we ordered specifically to eat at home.

I love our traditions.

I was about ten years old when I asked, "Mom? Do you believe in soul mates?" After she answered, "I think that you can love just about anyone if you really put your mind to it." I sat quiet. I didn't know what to say. It was clear that she did not think my father her soul mate, and worse, that she didn't believe in soul mates. 

I wanted her to believe so that I could believe.

Now that I am old(er), I understand what my mom was saying. I think.

About twelve years ago, I met Leif. After several months of knowing him, I came to believe that he was "the one". We weren't a couple long enough for us to transition beyond the you-are-awesome-I-am-awesome-lovey-dovey stage 1. Then, he went into the Peace Corps (be still my Liberal heart). 

At the time, I felt so grown-up about my unapologetically pragmatic attitude toward his leaving. I said so-long to Leif and wished him well in his work. Though, for many years after he left, I dreamt of his farm-boy smile and crystal blue eyes. My heart was broken, and I was not moving on.

I didn't know what to do.

Eventually, I began to date. No one compared to Leif. I was not optimistic that anyone ever would.

Then I met Steve.

At once, I was flushed and silly, and I knew that he was my second chance. He immediately began occupying the part of my heart that I didn't even realize lay dormant. I wasn't consciously waiting to serendipitously again cross paths with Leif. I wasn't consciously saving my heart for him. But I was, until I met Steve.

Once upon a time, I met the love of my life.

He was wonderful, and we were wonderful.

Then he moved away, and I moved on.

Then I got a second chance.

And I did not squander it.

Ramblings of an unfocused mind

It sure is cold here today!! We don't usually get weather like this until January. Brrrr! (I don't want any lip from the New Englanders in the crowd)

Mt. Dora is a tiny hamlet about an hour north of Orlando. I never understood why so many people gushed about this town. To me, it amounted to little more than a handful of "antique" shops (thrift shops really, but the word antique merits an extravagant markup), a lot of mediocre restaurants and a few tchotchke shops (selling candles, decorative ceiling fan pulls, candles, stained glass night lights, candles, dog breeds imortalized in ceramic, candles, sandstone coasters, candles, Vera Bradley totes and candles). Why would I drive an hour to browse through shops that sell nothing of interest to me? 

Because I'm a dumbass.

Lately, the Mt. Dora Chamber of Commerce has been running a super cute ad on television that makes it look awesome. The first time I saw the ad, I rolled my eyes and thought, "P.L.E.A.S.E!" But after the 10th time, I'd mellowed and wondered if Mt. Dora had something for me after all. Yesterday, I decided find out.

It is the same. Whatever.

My friend Alison doesn't celebrate Christmas. My preference would be not to observe this holiday, but that's not the way Steve rolls. If I had my way, the adults wouldn't be exchanging gifts at all. I once asked him how receptive he thought his family might be to the idea. He paused briefly, then answered, "Not a chance." So much for that.

Christmas is celebrated in such a way that it seems to run counter to the message. I love, Love, L.O.V.E. the idea of Christmas; a time when people share and reflect, gather and celebrate. What escapes me is the gift-giving. At this point in my life, there is nothing that anyone could possibly give me that wouldn't be a nuisance. 

Actually, I think that I do like celebrating Christmas. Only my idea of celebrating is different from the standard American version. Of course, I love the music, and I have fun baking for people. I like to plan Christmas activities - last year we went to St. Augustine to enjoy the lights. I like to do extra things for people, and especially remembering my favorite charities at the end of the year. I like everything except for the buying gifts part. It seems so stupid.

I wonder if my neighbors see me hustling across the street with a foil covered plate and groan. Here I am thinking that everyone loves how thoughtful I am, and they're probably wishing that I'd just give them a Target gift certificate. How ironic would that be?

As far as the gifts-as-nuisance thing goes, here's an example...last year, my aunt sent me a box full of goodies. I know she did it out of love, and I appreciated her thought (I continue to appreciate the thought), but jeeze. She sent me a new tote bag, cat magnets, a sweater, a book on cats (which was really good), a romance novel (does she even know me at all?) and a cookbook. I've only got a million tote bags and honest-to-God what am I going to do with cat magnets (besides the obvious)? If I need it, I already have it. Period. I don't need or want anymore things. If anyone really wants to do something for me that I would really, truly like, they can fire off a $10 check to the Humane Society of the U.S. I'm all for that.

Unfortunately people are unlikely to give to charity in someone's name. Even $10. They'd rather spend $50 on crap, than $10 on something that will make a difference in the world. It's a mystery.

Does honoring other people's traditions that run opposite to my own beliefs make me a hypocrite? I buy the people I love gifts because that is how they celebrate. 

It's a good thing that I don't have kids, because they would absolutely hate me. Maybe I could get away with lying to them, saying that our religion doesn't condone gift-giving. Never mind that my children would never know the inside of a church, and that the religion would be forever unnamed. Is it wrong to lie to your kids (wink)?

I think that I really do believe in Christmas, just my own version.

Sandhill Cranes

In the backyard today.

Shopping

I H.A.T.E. the mall. 

I went to the Florida Mall this morning to shop for Steve's sister's Christmas gift. 

The mall sucks. 

It was a waste.

My first stop was Nordstrom. While sampling candles in the Home section, a sales rep approached me, and enthused, "Don't all of those candles smell divine?!" I answered that only two of them appealed to me. If you can believe it, the sales rep was annoyed, and launched into a defense of each candle. Unbeknownst to me, it was my job to be enthralled by everything. She then reached for a votive, shoved it under my nose and proclaimed it her favorite. It was too late before it occurred to me that good manners dictated that I affect interest.

After I explained the focus of my visit to the esteemed [ugh] Nordstrom, she suggested that something from their extensive catalog of cockamamie crap such as crystal vases, enamel photo frames or cashmere throws might interest me. She looked me over a second time, and threw in that they had, "a few nice things under $20." Hmmn.

Who buys crystal vases/candlesticks/votives? For that matter, I don't have a personal relationship with anyone who buys blankets that require dry cleaning. No one I know displays photos in enamel frames in their homes. When I was in my 20s, thinking that I wanted to be the kind of person who had a collection of crystal, I bought those sorts of things. Unfortunately for Nordstrom, in my early 30s, I developed a self-awareness that extended the realization that my style is not fussy. I promptly rid myself of the delicate things I'd acquired. 

But, I wasn't shopping for myself. Sandra was the top person on my list this morning. I didn't like anything for her either. I did come across a velvety throw, but after looking at the price tag - $275 - I moved on.

Then, it was time for Dillards (Dillards is Hell on Earth). 

I failed in my attempt to breeze past the cosmetics section uninterrupted. Because I am a dipshit, I acknowledge makeup ladies who stop me, even though I clearly do not want to be stopped. 

That woman's [who looked like she could be the Grim Reaper's grandmother] game was tight. She wasted no time with polite chit-chat, preferring to notice the fine lines around my eyes, and my uneven skin. She asked to know the moisturizer I use. After I answered that I am happy with my moisturizer and happy with my skin, she peered closely at my face. Ironically, it was out of insecurity that I added, "At least, I'm not insecure about my skin - whatever it's condition." She then grabbed my hand, and smeared wrinkle filler across my wrist. As she did so, I firmly explained that there was no way that I would ever buy wrinkle filler, and that even if I had wrinkles to fill, I would never use it. 

I could never do that job. To nit-pick each and every last superficial aspect of a person just to sell a lipstick...her paycheck hinges on making women feel bad about themselves. When I was in my 20s - such were the depths of my insecurities - I would have loaded up on whatever she wanted me to buy. 

I left Dillards empty handed. Things were bleak.

I headed over to the Godiva boutique. Steve has a mild chocolate addiction, and I wanted to surprise him a box of seasonal truffles. Lucky for me, the only person working in the store when I walked by was a gothish freaky looking dude who scared me off. His weirdness saved me about $40. Uh-huh. What sounds superficial, is in fact wisdom. I have without prejudice approached many people who present themselves as this gentleman did. And I have learned that they are consistently annoyingly odd. No thanks.

Then, Santa appeared from nowhere vigorously rattling a leather strip of jingle bells like his life depended on it. He walked up to me. I smiled at him and said, "Good morning." I thought I was courteous. For the second time in one morning, I disappointed a mall employee. Evidentially, he expected me to be swept away by the magic of Christmas, and see more than a guy in costume. A thousand apologies, Santa. 

People are WAY too needy.

Seriously? M&M World? Seriously?

By the time I got to Macy's, my goose was cooked. If I wasn't driving, and if I didn't have other things to do, I would have planted myself in this joint for the next several hours.

I am sad for the Chinese children who work in factories that pump out this junk. Children are abused so that we can buy THIS rubbish?

And this?

When I got home, this pretty butterfly was warming itself in the garden. Home is where I belong.