Oh for jesus’ sakes. Has it been nearly a month since I last placed fingertips at the keyboard here? My regrets. My creative muse (read: attention whoring) isn’t what it used to be. I don’t have a thematic post today so maybe I should just vent or trudge along in the hope that something mildly entertaining dislodges from my foggy brain. Just for the record I stayed home Thanksgiving. Alone. I made a pork roast and ate applesauce from the jar at my kitchen sink. So there’s that.
Hmmm. Lemme think. Oh. Okay: there’s this young woman in the workplace that I want to gently push in front of an oncoming, high-speed commuter train. Not a forceful push, mind you — but a gentle, loving shove. Like one would give a shy friend who shamelessly wants ‘you’re the wind beneath my wings, love Bette’ in Sharpie at a Bette Midler book signing event.
I imagine she’d make a small patch of mess as the 6:17 from the far western suburbs slides into the platform with a powerful whoosh. Just smashed guts and wisps of over-processed blond hair. And maybe the sheared remains of cheap Shoe Carnival ballet flats twisted amidst the scorched brake grease Louie Vuitton knock-off.
I decidedly loathe this young woman. And I have really no idea why — at this career stage, a woman in her late 20’s should not get under my skin. But she’s just plain rude. Insufferably rude and tacky. I can tolerate a modicum of stupid because maybe one is an inbred, hilljack mutt with toothless, alcoholic parents but rude just finishes you off in my game book, sweetie.
Christmas is here. And though I expressed concerns about ‘full-tilt’ holiday decor it is up and completed. Nobody will see any of it and that is okay. I did it for me. One never knows, right? What if this is my last Christmas? Or what if I have to watch that horrific ‘Liz & Dick’ movie on Lifetime network? Again. (it stunk way beyond my expectations of stinkdom) To quote Mame Denis: we needed a little Christmas.
I’ve gone ‘old-fashion’ this year: I purchased strands of those C7, screw-in type, Christmas lights and bought packets of old-time German lead-based tinsel. Beyond those efforts I scored several boxes of reproduction Shiny Brites at my local TJ MAXX and Marshalls stores. The overall look is quietly comforting to me in that Bing Crosby ‘white christmas’ kinda’ way.
My EXbf came over last weekend and put the hooks on the ornaments; he feels like he’s helping me and I suppose that yearly assistance is genuine. Still, I can’t help but skate carefully around statements like “…is this a new one? I don’t remember this one on our tree.”
Like a hot gun that shoots cold blanks, his sentiment; I was shot but still standing as I methodically separated the shiny melded strands of silver tinsel. Each carefully placed strand reflects my silent hope that the Christmas season will be shiny and bright when I need it to be.