Posts Tagged ‘Christmas ornaments’

Love Songs and Nail Salons

December 11, 2021

Today I was out and about.

I got my nails did!

It was so lovely.

I haven’t been to the nail salon since a few days prior to my surgery.


That’s been approximately 7 1/2 weeks.

A long time for this lady.

I love getting my nails done.

It has been a splurge of mine and also a bit of a living amends that I have been making for a while now.

So to go nearly two months without is saying something.

I don’t indulge in much.

No alcohol.

No sugar.

No drugs.

No flour.

I mean.

Let a girl get her nail salon on.


Nail salons are also emotionally intense.


One is held hostage for an hour to an hour and a half while the toes get painted and the finger nails are polished up.

And one, I mean I, I am forced to sit still and feel all the feelings that wish to flit through my mind.

And then there are the love songs.

I mean.

Is it just some romantic comedy trope, but do all nail salons have some sort of love song loop or playlist?

My salon does.

So I spend the entire time listening to love songs and trying to stay out of the dangerous neighborhood of my mind that is you.

You, my darling, you.

I seem to get more and more space from my heart ache and loss and longing for that old unrequited love siren song.

But get in me in a nail salon and I get teary.


I really am trying to more on, but I did seem to get walloped by it today.

Maybe it was just that I haven’t gotten my nails done for a while.

Maybe it’s that my birthday is next weekend.


I am going to be 49 years old.

How the fuck did that happen?

My birthday last year was basically in lock down.

But we managed to spend most of the day together.

You cleared your calendar and I felt pretty damn special.

I won’t go into the details of the morning, although I can remember it very, very well.

We were supposed to go to a fancy French restaurant…..


I’m going to Paris next year for my birthday and Christmas!

I figure, 50 years old is a milestone year and since I celebrated my 40th in Paris, why not my 50th?

I booked myself a pretty Air BnB in the Marais District.

My favorite neighborhood to stay in.

And it turns out to be a five minute walk to my best friends home!

I was in Paris for my 48th birthday too.

Missing you, although I was dating someone else.

A very short lived relationship.

I keep fucking hoping that one of these days I will actually be in Paris with a partner, not longing for unrequited love to come swoop me off to Cafe Charlot.

I mean.

The cheeseburgers there.



We were supposed to go to a fancy French restaurant, but shelter in place happened again literally the day before my birthday.

So you scrambled and found a sushi place that was doing take out in Half Moon Bay.

We drove to Half Moon Bay and held hands and listened to our various playlists and I sat next to you, while you drove, intoxicated once again with you.


Really trying.

To stay present and in the moment.

And I did pretty good, in hindsight, I know I was just compartmentalizing like a mad woman, but for that afternoon I managed ok.

Although, you caught me looking out at the ocean once and you knew, you always did, that I was sad.

We parked in Half Moon Bay’s cute little downtown and walked around and went to a florist shop and I got a painting that I just looked up at and a Christmas ornament–currently in a place of honor in my bedroom.

We walked past this ridiculously cute bed and breakfast and fantasized about going there next year.

“Let’s take a whole weekend next year for your birthday,” you said.

Which would be this year.


I broke up with you again.

I’ll never forget you saying, “I am so tired of breaking up with you,” the last time I saw you in person.

I’m tired of it too.


I wasn’t too thrilled to be in the nail salon listening to love songs.


I didn’t die.

I didn’t burst into tears.

I’ve definitely done that before.


One did slide down my face.


The story goes.

I’ll be single forever and I’m getting old and you were the one and I can’t have you and I’m going to wither and die on the fucking vine.


The thing is.

That is just a sad story my brain tells me.

Yes, baby, I miss you.

And baby, it’s cold outside.

And baby, I’ll always love you.

But I don’t have to be held to some cross of martyrdom and sadness alone and lost in my fantasy world of you, pining for some day, some day.

I’m allowed to be with someone.

And love will find me.

I know it will.

Even if I am haunted at the nail salon with love songs that make me think of you, it doesn’t mean that there aren’t other love songs out there for me.

Someone is singing one for me right now.

Maybe I’ll hang some mistletoe in my doorway and wait for the caroler’s to come.

I’ll be waiting.


By my pink Christmas tree.


I did that too.


I figure that I couldn’t go out and get a live one this year, too soon since the surgery, too much lifting and even thinking about getting one on the roof of my car was too overwhelming.

So I ordered a fake one.

And since, I mean, it’s fake, why not just fucking embrace it and really go fake.

I got a 7’5″ pink glitter Christmas tree.

I know.

I am not fucking around.

And today I decorated it.

It is beautiful.

And though, I thought, wouldn’t it be sweet to have you over, it would always be sweet to have you over, I can’t imagine that after 11 months of not seeing each other, you want to come over and look at my Christmas tree.

Even though the two ornaments you’ve given me are hanging up.

No one knows but me anyway.


Merry Christmas lover.

I hope you are well.

I still think of you.

You are often every where I look.

But like I said.

One day soon.

I’ll have a love to keep me warm.

I will weather the storm.

I thought you ought to know my heart’s on fire.

Listen to this blog on Spotify.

Almost Clear

November 27, 2016

Not 100%.



I’ll take it.

It was a big relief.

Although I still feel a little stigmatized and a little off, the last three days of being pretty isolated, being alone on Thanksgiving, it rather got to me a bit more than I think I was even letting myself know.

I had a few crying moments.

Not huge.

Just a softening sorrow that streaked my cheeks and left me feeling a little bereft, a bit alone, a little lost and at wits ends with what to do with myself.


I did more homework.

And more laundry.

The good news that Hair Fairies gave me today is that I can cease and desist with the constant washing of the laundry.

I mean.

I like a nice warm set of clean sheets, and I probably change mine out pretty consistently once a week.

Not once a day.


Tuesday I changed them twice.

I did one last big load of laundry when I got back from the treatment and washed it all out again.

They still found lice though.

Not like what they found on Tuesday.

I’m not sure I even wrote down the number from Tuesday, I was so grossed out.

The four people working on my hair, the two plus hours of fine tooth combing, the having to make phone calls and tell anyone who had been close to me, oh hey, um, guess what?

I have lice.


It was bad though.

120 + eggs.

There were more, they just stopped counting at 120, which qualifies as a severe case.



36 live lice.

And they stopped counting the live ones at that point as well.



Was my first thought.

And my second, third, fourth, and fifth.


Every fucking time I had a tiny itch I was paranoid.

The woman doing my hair today put me at ease around that though, “your scalp will still itch for a few days, you have micro abrasions and scabs.”

Oh god.



At least it wasn’t because I was in severe infestation.


How lovely.



Today they found 2 baby lice and one egg.

The babies, thank fucking God, were too young to have started laying eggs.

The treatment today was about an hour and half.

And I was upped from 70% clear to 95/98% clear.


Of course.

Not 100% since they found the two babies and the egg.


That being said, I still got the full on treatment and if it could get rid of over 120 nits and 36 bugs, I was feeling pretty competent that what was done this morning would take care of the two babies and one egg.

Get off my head.



Thank you.

I have one more appointment.


I will be going back to Hair Fairies at 11 a.m. on Friday.

And pray to God that’s the last time I ever need to go there again.

I’ve had more than an ample experience dealing with this, I can mark it off the check list of life experiences I don’t wish to have again.

Boyfriend decides to spend Christmas day with his ex-wife?


Boyfriend breaks up with me morning of my ten-year anniversary party.


Former best friend sells me bunk knock off Vietnam Vespa.


Which I injure myself on and have to have a month off from work while not on disability.

Check and check.




Check fucking mate.

I’d like some fun now that I’m in the “clear.”

Tomorrow I decided to go to yoga in the morning, signed up before I started my blog, then a couple of ladies will be coming over to my super clean and louse free abode to do some reading and doing of the deal.

And after that.

I am going to go out and get myself a Christmas tree.

I am getting it earlier than I have in the past, but I need a pick me up.

It was a sad lonely holiday.

And though I made fucking really good use of it, I mean, the reading I got done!  It was still super isolating and I missed being around people.


I am going to hop on my scooter after I have lunch and go to an Ace Hardware store in the Castro and buy some ceramic blue old-fashioned Christmas tree light bulbs.

I may swing through Cole Valley first and see if they have them at Cole Hardware, they might and that would save me having to go all the way to the Castro, plus I like Cole Hardware, they’re local and like patronizing them.

The hardware store in the Inner Sunset had the big bulbs, but no in blue, multi-colored, which I considered, but I prefer the blue.

I also picked up two more ornaments for myself while I was in the Fillmore neighborhood.

Which can be a challenging place to shop, very high-end and a bit expensive.

I felt a little out of my league.


I did find a very sweet painted glass toad stool with glitter on it at Nest.


The most beautiful glass hand blown glass swan at Mudpie, a very high end upscale children’s store.




So, so pretty.

And though my five-day weekend did not turn out at all, AT ALL, like I had planned, holy moly, God laughs when I make plans, it wasn’t all bad.

I had some long, genuine, sweet phone conversations.

I took a nice long walk on the beach.

I cleaned my house.

I did laundry, a lot of laundry, ahem.

My house smells hella good.

I did so much reading for school.

So much.

I feel really good about that and I started to get some ideas for how to approach my last big Psychopathology paper.

I took a nap.

I mean.

That’s something.

It wasn’t all bad.

It was lonely.


But I was never alone.

I always was taken care of and though there were moments of sadness and tears, I wasn’t drowning in them.



I did a little bit, I was pretty fucking upset Wednesday morning, but hey, I got through it and didn’t do anything stupid.


Cut off all my hair.

Or drink.

Or use.

Or start smoking cigarettes again.

Or eat a bunch of sugar.


I bought myself sunflowers to remind me to look at the bright side of things.

And I roasted a chicken.

Self-care for the win.



The holidays can only get better from here.

I mean.


It’s time for fun.

Bring it the fuck on.



Get Into The Spirit

December 8, 2013

I made some room today.

I am getting  a tree tomorrow.

I wasn’t going to.

I will be house sitting in the Mission from December 19th through the 26th.

Which means I won’t be at my home during the holiday, I will be elsewhere, although still in San Francisco and still with friends, I will do some service and help out where there is a need and not worry too much about what happens on the actual date.

I have some holiday parties to go to, so I won’t feel left out of the holiday mix, as well as my birthday to celebrate.

Yet, I did feel that I was not letting myself partake because of said house sitting gig and I do want to have some holiday cheer in my life.

So, in an effort to get into the mood, I took out the box of Christmas ornaments I had shoved back into the closet and pulled out the boxes of cards I had got recently and got on my way to making some merry and bright.

I wrote out 17 Christmas cards and a congrats on your new baby, as well as one happy anniversary card, and a happy birthday card too.

I have to go buy more stamps.

And actually, a few more cards, I realized that I had not gotten all the folks on my mental check list and I want to make sure that my grandmother, for instance, gets a Christmas card from me.

She’s the last of my grandparents and it means the world to me that we stay in touch.

I unwrapped my box of ornaments and knew by the time I had unfolded two pieces of tissue paper away from glass bulbs that I was on the right track.

I could feel my heart open and lift and I immediately decided I was going to get a tree.

A Charlie Brown tree, most likely, and I will get it tomorrow.

My housemate has offered to take me and since it’s much easier to get a tree back to my house via car than bicycle I leapt at the offer.

I need some lights, but other than that, I do have enough little ornaments to decorate a small evergreen.

I can’t wait to have one glowing softly in my room.

Just for me.

A sweet little token of the holiday season, a small gift to myself, a treasure.

Writing out my holiday cards felt much the same.

A gift.

The satisfaction I get from hand writing and stamping a series of cards is something that I cannot explain, but look forward to every year.

Something about the sweet acknowledgement of addressing friends near and far and thinking back to how and where we met and where our lives have gone since lights me up.

I found myself nesting and cozy in my home all day long, not even realizing it was as late as it was, the sun fading off into the cold night air, blazing and clear in the sharp bite of it, puttering around the studio, filling a white serving bowl with glass bulbs, finding a place for a small silver wreath made of jingle bells, digging out ribbons from my stash, fanning out the red and white cards with stamps on my table.

I sent out cards to friends and family from San Francisco to Maine, Wisconsin to Florida, Georgia, and Maryland.

I looked up addresses in my old Filofax–the original back up–I still have to add the updated address to a few of the cards, I am not the only one who has moved around in the past year and reflected on each time I had sent said person a Christmas card.

I still need to pick up a card or two and there’s always someone who slips through the cracks, but it does give me great pleasure to do this small task.

Sometimes I have gone to a coffee shop or a cafe to write my holiday cards, but sitting here in my small snug home felt like the exact place I needed to be.

Last year I went to Paris to write my cards.



Life, it is something else, isn’t it?

Continuing to work on the surrender to it and to the forgiveness of self and the constant stretching of my heart.

I sat in quiet meditation today before the morning got off and running with cards and holiday decorating and simply asked where should I direct my attention, what can I do?

How may I be of service?

I had some things float through.

Some things I fondled and held onto, some I let drift right on by.

The one thing that seemed to stick out was to open up more and let myself be loved, however that looks, and accept that what I think is best for me is probably deceptive.

Do the opposite, lady, don’t do what the thoughts say, do what the heart says.

And that sometimes is hard.

“Boy, you’re sure in a hurry to get out of my car,” he said as I unfastened my seat belt and prepared to bolt from the car to the N-Judah stop on the way back to the Sunset.

I was and I didn’t realize until he said it, I guess I am not quite ready to just going back to being a friend, my heart was not having it and I was mad to be running for the train, too tired to do anything but run.

Only to miss the train connection anyhow.

Moral of the story?

Sit still a little longer.

Wade through the discomfort and see what else can be seen.

Take the box of ornaments back out of the closet, you do want to have holiday, don’t deny yourself the love.

Get a Christmas tree.

Do what makes you happy.

And if you have to run for the train don’t be mad if you miss it.

The cold is cold, but it isn’t that cold and it makes for a warm welcome to step in from the frosty air and the long train ride through the avenues to this sweet nest perched by the roaring ocean, spiced with warm candles and spilling over with music and the wide open space waiting to be filled with a fresh evergreen sapling.

Holding the space.

Knowing that the love will rush in.

It’s just waiting for me to get out-of-the-way.

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