December 2005

I have a sore throat. Melle came to visit anyway. I accept no responsibility for any scratchy-sore-icky feeling she may have in her own throat later tonight or tomorrow. Of course, I didn’t exactly lick her face when she came through the door, so unless these are SUPER GERMS she’s probably safe. I’d kind of like having SUPER GERMS, come to think of it. I could walk around breathing in the general vicinity of people I didn’t like and watching them keel over from the resulting germ attack. Hmm.

Melle brought my sockmonkey along with her (photos to come soon) and I was giddy. I have been (not-very-secretly) coveting her sockmonkeys for a long while, without ever seeing one in person, which should tell you how amazing they are – and now I have my very own. I’ll let you know what I name her/him (I’m getting a girly vibe, but we haven’t spent much time together yet) when I post pictures.

In addition, Melle gifted Coffee and I with the Stitch-n-Bitch books – thus ensuring that no one ever sees either of us out in public again. At least not without knitting needles, yarn and a distracted expression on our face(s). Indeed. Along with the arrival of my thrum mitten kit earlier today, I think it’s safe to say I have adequate knitting projects to fill the first few months of the new year. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaw! Tomorrow I’m heading to Len’s to pick up another set of 4mm dpns so I can get started on my thrum mittens. No time like the present, right? (Melissa, let me know if you need any!)

(Ps: My throat hurts.)

(Pps: There’s a Mythbuster’s marathon on television right now! Whoooohoo!)

CANCER (June 21-July 22):
The coming months will not be a time for less talk and more action, my fellow Cancerian, but for *more* talk and more action. Here are other prescriptions to help you get the most out of 2006: Go on wilder adventures and entertain fewer superstitions. Indulge in fewer mood swings and invest in an experience that will serve as the best anchor you’ve ever had. Explore your secrets more aggressively, but keep fewer secrets. Work harder to know the difference between true intuitions and fearful delusions. Feel less remorse and more forgiveness. Cultivate wetter love and dryer humor. Commit yourself to faster promise-keeping and slower fault-finding.

..though I think there are plenty of other people who’d love one of these as well.

My Nerve horoscope:

Cancer (June 21-July 21)
Did you see Mitch Albom on that Barbara Walter’s Heaven program last week? That guy whips off cloying, soft-focus clichés at a dazzling rate! “Nobody is a nobody,” he said with a straight face. This week, you’ll be equally self-indulgent, unable to stop yourself from doing anything that feels good. Mitch can’t stop writing treacle about people in heaven and believing in himself; you can’t stop eating sugar-sprinkled Cheez-Its and masturbating with remnants of velvet fabric!

Perhaps you’ll want to call before you visit me this week.

(I’m not really here…)

Christmas Eve, chez nous. Sleeping late, reading for long hours, eating homemade spicy jambalaya (how, erm, festive!), watching endless episodes of “Grays Anatomy”, playing endless rounds of Tetris. This is not the Christmas Eve of my childhood, and I don’t mind. There are no carols (save for “Silent Night” sung by Bad Religion in the shower this morning, and a second round of it sung off-key by Coffee and I this evening) and there are no candles or decorated trees. I don’t miss any of those things at all.

I’m filled with a contentment that I can’t describe. A sort of inner peace mixed with joy. Relief. Freedom. I am alive, I am safe and loved. I love. The imperfections of my life are perfect just as they are. Everything is as it should be for the first time in a very long time. Too long. To say that I am aware of this peace and how lucky I am to have it would be to understate my knowledge in a very big way. I am blessed.

2005 was a beautiful mess. I can’t wait for 2006.

Stay safe, stay warm, be loved.
Blessed Be.

Whatever it is that you celebrate, and however it is that you do it, I hope it’s wonderful!

Me? I’m on ‘vacation’ for a few days, and will return weighing at least 5 pounds more, still in sugar-shock, and sick of cookies (ha! right!).

This “review” of the Denis Leary Christmas special is WAY funnier than the show itself was. I watched it and don’t remember Denis Leary ever saying, “bleep” and this quote:

When the rock group called the “Barenaked Ladies” (all men) try to sing a carol, they are blown off the stage by wind and snow.

..might be my favourite part of the whole article. And by linking to that article, you KNOW these people are going to show up and start emailing me about going to hell.

I’M GOING TO HELL AND I NEED SOMETHING TO WEAR ON THAT TRIP: Can someone buy me a “Tits 4 Tots” shirt now? Girls, XL. Thanks.

Dear World,

I’m sorry that I stole your Christmas spirit. Honestly, I didn’t mean to.

I suppose I better understand the grinchiness of my previous years, now that I realize it takes a LOT of “holiday spirit” to buoy my soul into this state of giddiness. Clearly the rest of the world can only celebrate when I am hiding under the duvet wimpering and whinging. I am sad to hear of friends who have no Christmas bliss, no decorations, and who are wishing to lock the door and not face the world while I am bouncing around shouting carols at the top of my lungs.

Next year I’ll try to leave a bit of joy behind for everyone else to absorb, while stealing only a little for myself. We can call it even-steven, then, right?

For now, can I interest you in a bourbon eggnog cupcake?

Love,
Dana

Dear Debbie Sue,

Two years? Two years.

The universe, as always, is conspiring to remind me of you. I’m not sure who to notify about this, and do I have to put it in writing?, but I don’t need any prodding. You’re always around me, and always in my thoughts.

A few days ago, I got a Christmas card in the mail from your Mom. Inside was a picture of Mike – a school picture – and, as you know, that kid looks exactly like you. A little more masculine, thank god, but those were definitely your eyes staring back at me. I hope he grows up to be like you in all the important ways. I suspect that even though you’re not here to guide him, the majority of your weirdness was passed to him via genetics.

In the card, your Mom wrote that she thought you’d be pleased to know that Coffee and I got married, which made me laugh. If anyone is cheering us on in this universe, it’s definitely you, particularly at the more salacious moments in our relationship.

I think of you whenever an Offspring song comes on. I think of you whenever I wear an article of your clothing. I think of you whenever I see PVC or go to Torrid or smell Chanel or adopt another animal or see some scrawny-stringy guy skulking about.

As time goes by, I’ve been trying to keep all the things you taught me in mind. You were always the Queen of Answers – if there was a problem, you were the first to find seventy-eight potential solutions (half of which would be illegal or immoral). It’s funny how we never had any big long formal conversations about ‘important lessons’ and yet if someone printed up bracelets that said, “WWDD?” I’d be all over them (after making fun of them, of course). Generally, the answer to “What Would Deb Do?” is something good, fun, wacky and/or not-quite-mainstream. It tends to lead to something spontaneously wonderfully fucked up.

Really, living with that motto is working quite well, and I think you’d be pleased, even though I know you’re looking at my knitting and wondering where you went wrong. Would it help if I told you I hum punk songs while making scarves?

It’s been a long two years, but in my mind I can still hear your voice and your laughter clearly, and I can even remember how you smelled. You made a mark on everyone you left behind – we spend a lot of time talking about you and sharing memories. We’re trying to take care of each other, as best we can, though it’s absolutely no substition for having you here.

I’m glad you’re still hanging around us, albeit somewhat behind the scenes. And I love you, Debbie Sue. I’m so glad I got to be your friend.

xo
Dana

I guess no one is really all that surprised.