Posts Tagged ‘Christmas time’

Scrolling Face

December 4, 2015

Crack is not going to write my blog.

Ugh.

I have just had a flat day.

The most exciting thing about today was riding to work in a down pour and saying  the serenity prayer on a loop in my head.

You know it’s gnarly weather when I get off my bike to cross the street on foot by the MUNI tracks, Sanchez and 17th.

They are the worst.

I have nightmares about them.

I got to work fine but it was stressful, the sound of the rain on the road and the woosh of the cars going by, getting soaked before being a quarter of the way there.

But I did get there and there is where I will be doing a lot of being.

Tomorrow that is.

It’s the mom’s birthday so I will be going in at my regular time and staying three hours past so that mom and dad can go out to dinner at Michael Minna.

Go dad.

I am going to take a car in.

I took a car home.

The dad paid for it.

And I felt weird because part of me just wanted to be on my bicycle and now how the hell am I going to get my bicycle back?

I’m riding back in to work on their dime, which is cool.

But I have my bike in the garage and it’s a little cluster fucked.

I could, I suppose, just leave it there the weekend.

I’m not going to be using it.

I’ll be on my scooter during the day Saturday and hopefully that night I will be hanging with a friend for sushi and Christmas tree hauling.

If he’s not sick.

Sick sucks.

Lot of folks been sick this flu season.

So far.

Knock on wood.

I have not.

Grateful for my health and the flu shot I got a month ago.

Anyway.

I figure, I wasn’t supposed to be on my bike coming home and it did throw a little snag in my evening’s plans, but I was happy to get a ride home–the rain has stopped but the streets are still wet and slick and it’s cold and dark.

Not the best times for riding a bicycle.

Despite working longer hours tomorrow I am super happy it’s Friday.

The week has gone by in a rather stretchy, long, nebulous way.

I think it’s because I have homework looming.

Probably.

And I miss my friend who’s been sick.

And the days are short and the night’s long.

It’s holidaze.

Although I do like the lights and the trees and the present wrapping and card writing.

I picked up my holiday stamps today while out running errands with the boys.

I have no idea why I like cards so much.

I’m a paper kind of gal.

There’s something about writing a card, wishing a sentiment, placing the stamp, putting it in the mailbox.

It’s special.

Even the boys, ages 3 and 5, know that it’s special to mail something off, they argue fiercely to get to be the helper who puts the cards in the post box.

And the oldest one is constantly folding paper and stapling it and drawing and now writing on it, making “books” and sealing envelopes.

Cards and letter writing is special.

All writing is special.

Plus.

There’s something about sending a card, I know how good I feel when I get one in the mail, I actually prolong opening personal mail until I am fully in the house and all my bags and sweatshirts and stuff are put away, lights are on candles lit, music playing.

I like ambiance you could say.

And then.

I open the envelope.

Savoring the feel of the paper.

The contents of the card.

Or note.

Or letter.

I know I am a tad old fashioned.

I can’t seem to help myself.

And I don’t think I want to change it now.

I remember being sad when the e-card phase was happening.

I don’t like getting a fabricated video card or a weird GIF with family members heads cut off and stuck on elves.

I would rather get something in the post.

Then.

When I get the card I string it up on a piece of curled green twine with a little bit of red ribbon and possibly a silver bell and hang the cards in cascades down the string.

They are a cheap and easy Christmas decoration and they make me feel good and special and loved.

Viscerally loved.

Perhaps that is why I love them so.

And the best cards.

I save.

I’m a little picky.

But that’s me.

Some I know are instantly going in the recycling after the holidays are past.

Some, however, go in a special stack and once in a while I will go through them and be filled with love for that person and their thoughts.

I am really blessed.

I have so much love in my life.

I am always taken care of.

See car ride home.

And even when the wrapping paper is not what I want it to be, the gifts always astound me.

So whatever I can bring.

Whatever small song of love I can send out into the world.

I will.

It just takes a moment.

Putting pen to paper.

Placing the Charlie Brown Holiday stamp in the top right corner.

Throwing some glitter in there.

It’s not Christmas without glitter.

Just sayin’.

And posting the cards up in the mail.

Not quite letters for Santa.

Or.

Romantic love letters.

But love nonetheless.

In letters bold and sweet and still swooping in my funny cursive across the red envelopes.

A Christmas wish for you.

Like bright chinaberries against the snow.

And the low light of the North star in the sky.

Helping to find your way home.

I wish you love.

Joy.

Happiness.

Prosperity.

Abundance.

And more.

Love.

Always yours.

Carmen.IMG_7440

 

 

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Things That Are Challenging

December 5, 2014

Wrangling four boys at the farmer’s market, feeding dinner, entertaining, and then doing the hand off of two to a mom whilst in the middle of Mission Mini birthday cupcake havoc.

I made it through.

And now it’s bedtime.

And I don’t have to do anything but sit quietly and relax.

I want to be doing something, tidying, picking up, laundry, but I also expended so much energy between 3p.m. and 7 p.m. with the four boys and then an additional amount of super hero nanny powers combatting post sugar melt down with pajama, story, and bed time, that I am not going to do anything but look at shoes on-line.

I’m not ordering anything.

I’m zoning out.

Yeah.

I know.

I am weird.

It happens to me occasionally that I zone out by looking at shoes, scrolling the pages of this site or that, I have large feet so it’s not actually something that pans out well for me.

I spend a lot of time applying filters and before you know it I have wasted a half hour finding a mythical pair of shoes that is out of stock anyway and I couldn’t afford it I actually wanted them.

I don’t want the shoes, I want the fantasy of what I’ll do in the shoes.

Because you know, if I find the right pair of shoes, happiness is guaranteed.

In case you were wondering, yes, I did grow up in the United States of Consumerism.

However, I don’t consume nearly that much, not as much as the average bear, that’s for sure, and I keep it fairly small when I do.

I spend most money on eating well, paying rent, repaying student loans, and experiences.

I do, don’t get me wrong, love a good pair of shoes or a new dress, who doesn’t?

But sometimes, I think I’m just checking out to give the brain a moment to pause and not think about what is happening or to take a break from the mental gymnastics I have a tendency to perform.

And too.

Today was just an off kilter day.

I didn’t start until 1:30 p.m.

I felt discombobulated from sleeping in and it took a while for me to get started.

I did write a lot this morning though and that felt good.

Four pages long hand and then, yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, I started writing out some Christmas cards.

I like sending out cards, it makes me feel good to take a moment, think of that person or persons or family, and wrap the card up with a big hug and stamp it and maybe put a little embossed sticker on the envelope and send it off in the postal box.

I dropped ten in the mail today.

I usually send out between fifteen and twenty.

Sometimes a few more.

I went through my first round of obvious recipients, now I have to dig out the addresses of those folks that I love to send a card to, but don’t have their address readily at hand.

Rather than in my iphone, I have an old address book in yes, my Filofax.

Yup.

I have a Filofax.

I had two, but my first got so beat up some girlfriends back in Madison teamed up and got me a new one for Christmas or perhaps it was for my birthday, the year before I moved out to San Francisco.

My birthday is two weeks from today.

I got a text from the boyfriend earlier today.

Said text coming at a really nice time in the day, when I was getting ready to scoop all four boys up and head to the Farmer’s Market on Bartlett and 22nd.

I needed a pick me up and the Universe sent me one.

Basically it was to let me know that he would need me ready and in his car by 7:15 p.m. on the night of the 18th.

My birthday.

I guess I have a date.

I have a date on my birthday.

I went horseback riding last year with two of my darling girlfriends.

The year before that I was in Paris and got to get a jackalope tattoo from my room-mate and tattoo artist friend who was working at Abraxas, then we met fellows at the American Church and after went for a dinner at his favorite cafe in the Menilmontant neighborhood, the 20th arrondisement, or Belleville area or Paris (The Red Balloon was filmed there).

I don’t know where we’re going, it’s a surprise, but I do so like that plans have been made.

He also asked me what I wanted for Christmas.

Gah.

For him to read my mind.

I had to sit on that text for a while.

I already have gotten him his Christmas present.

I knew it the moment I saw it and I bought it for him.

I got it at Paxton Gate.

I asked the sales clerk the odds of them having more of the item in stock if I did not buy it the day I saw it, would they have it available, would they be ordering more.

She said no and I said, ring up the sale.

To have my boyfriend ask me what I wanted was uncomfortable and I knew I had to actually give an answer.

I don’t like asking for things.

I never have.

But I knew it was appropriate to respond and let him know.

I gave him a short list, nothing actually very specific, earrings, perfume, pretty lingerie, flowers, things in the bunny motif, I like rabbits, things that are cozy.

Ugh.

I like being given gifts, don’t get me wrong, I just don’t like telling people what I want.

I want to make myself small and unnoticeable.

That is old hat.

And there is nothing wrong with telling the man I am with what I like.

He wants to know.

He’s under no obligation to get me anything and yet, I know he is and regardless of what I get, I shall be pleased.

It’s a nice feeling being with someone who wants to make plans with me on my birthday and wants to know what I like.

That itself is already such a gift.

It seems almost too much to ask for more than that.

Presents.

I have already been given so much.

The awareness of my fortune may be enough.

Although I will happily receive presents should they coalesce.

It’s not nice to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Or a boyfriend.


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