Recap #1

Ever have one of those day/nights that you just cannot get drunk, no matter how very hard you try? That was my Christmas Eve. I drank, and drank, and drank some more. I didn't eat very much, as is my new practice around VonMom. (I don't want to hear her comments on my eating habits) And still, I remained sober. Well, way too sober for that occassion. Blissfully tanked is how I get through my Christmas Eves. Christmas Eve 2009 was one of the best on record, when I lost abou 45 minutes of the night. Anyway. Sober me was trying to be all nice and festive. Then time to open presents happened. Hm. I actually got a couple of presents. This is new. And they were good presents. This is even newer. But then the person I had in the grab-bag opened my present. I thought I was in the clear, as I had purchased off his Amazon list. Now, I too have an Amazon wish list. And I know it's my responsibility to keep that list updated, as I know people go to it for gift ideas. If I get something off the list, I take it off. Easy peasy. Apparently eldest nephew is not hip to the concept of list updating. And was a total child about it. He's 24, by the way. He made a mini-scene upon opening gift. Which would have been bad enough. But he kept at it. I told him I didn't feel badly because I got it off of his list. He said he felt bad because he didn't update his list. I said, well, that's on you. Because it is. And I didn't and do not feel bad about it. He was still complaining about it as they were packing up to go home, hours later. GROW UP. On the flip side - next youngest nephew loved loved loved his gift from me, the awesome aunt. Over the summer he told me how when he runs and trains (he plays varsity baseball at his high school) he falls down because his shoes are old. I filed this info away. And I bought him new shoes. Here in Chicago, we call them gym shoes (regardless of if you wear them in a gym). You may call them sneakers. Whatevs. They were Nike running shoes, and they cost me a pretty penny. But he deserved them. He's a good kid all the way around. I love picking on him, and that he takes it so well. As he looked at the largish (he's a size 13) wrapped box in front of him, he looked at me and said: "It's from you, Aunt Von" "Yup. What do you think it is?" "$0.50 taped to the bottom of an empty box?" (he can dish it out as well as he can take it) "Open it and see" And then he loved them. And tried them on. And they fit. I even got a follow up email thanking me for the shoes. He said he also got new basketball shoes, which will be his every day shoes, but he's planning on wearing the ones I gave him for training and running. (which is why I bought them) The best gift I received that evening was a Dalek key chain. And when you turn it over, it's a bottle opener. I love this gift the best because VonBrother#2 bought it for me. A) he never has bought me a Christmas gift before 2) he bought it after I mentioned how much I'd love something like that when he told me he was going to a Dr. Who convention the day after Thanksgiving. And he remembered I said that. That is the best gift giving there is. Not at all the dollar amount, more of the thought behind it. It was interesting (though I guess it was supposed to be endearing?) when VonMom told me to "Go to bed, so Santa can come." I translated it to "Go to bed, I have nothing further to say to you today, and don't you need some beauty sleep? Those bags under your eyes aren't getting you a boyfriend." And this was just Christmas Eve.... So much more to tell you.......

Merry Happy

I had been thinking all week about how I wanted to write today's post. Did I just want to write Fridge Note: Merry Christmas Bitches? Did I want to get sappy Auld Lang Syne-ish? Did I want to quote lyrics from the Sister Hazel Christmas album? Then last night happened, and to me, retelling that story is the best gift I can give you. By now you all know that VonDad is my most favorite human being ever. And VonMom can be difficult. So last night I was at VonParents' house. We had some chicken soup (awww. because I've been sick). We were talking for a bit. VonMom: "I have this song I want you to hear!!" Me: "Ok. NO!!! I want to hear MY song. Really really really loud!" VM: "Ok, after you hear my song...." Me: "NOOOO!!!! MY SONG RIGHT NOW!!!" Of course, I lost. VM is now in the dining room, trying to get her CD to play. She's got a shiny new CD player hooked up to her stereo system from 1976 (not kidding, it's really from 1976). Her stereo system kicks major ass. The whole house shakes when you get that thing cranking. VM: "!!!! How do I make this work! This fucking thing won't work! BOB!!!" ***ahhhh, the holidays***** Finally, she gets "her song" to play. It's some song called "Christmas in Chicago", from the Yule show put on by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Meh. Trite and trilly. Song over. Me: "Play my song N O W!!!!!" (Probably should fill you in right about here.....my favorite Christmas song is "Do They Know it's Christmas". We used to sing in in choir, I had the Boy George solo. Also, my dad used to play it really loudly on Christmas day to wake VonSis and me up. Soooo the memories make it my favorite. VonParents own this song on vinyl.) VonDad gets up, goes into the dining room, and finds the record. VonDad: "You're lucky we still have this." Me: "No, mister, you're lucky you still have this!!" .......dunn....dunn.....dunn...duun.....(I can't really do the intro to that song justice, but y'all know what it sounds like) The house is shaking. VonMom and I are dancing and singing around the dining room and front room. VonDad is sitting in the kitchen, laughing, watching the whole mess. I grab a stuffed elephant off the piano and start dancing around with it. Singing at the top of my lungs. VonDad is laughing and shaking his head. VonMom is singing and kinda dancing while also taking dead leaves off of her plants. Me: "Get in here mister!" Didn't think he would, but he did. Sure, he didn't sing or dance, but he bopped his head, it's more than I expected. While this was happening, my brain whispered to me: 'Remember this. Soak it all in. It's going to be one of your favorite holiday memories of all time. Just you and your parents, dancing around like fools.' .....and in our world.....of plenty.....we can spread a smile of joy.....throw your arms around the world......at Christmas time!!!...... Merry Happy to you.....my friends. No matter where you are, or what you celebrate, you'll be in my thoughts.

Hating the hoarders

The other night, I was on the phone with Sil1x. As is usually the case, we ended up talking about at least a dozen different topics. One that we landed on was that show, "Hoarders." I have never, ever watched "Hoarders". Sure, it's gross, and they find dead animals, and there's some b.s. therapy and some crying, and a nasty-assed yard sale - "HI!!! This table was under 54 pounds of garbage!! Wanna buy it for $10?", and I guess all of that can be entertaining to some people. Not to me. But not for the reasons you'd think. Here's my thing. I get mad (jealous?) at the people for one simple, silly reason. Those bastards have HOUSES. AND THEY MESS THEM UP AND MAKE THEM UNLIVABLE. Um, yeah. Let me remind the reader, I live in Chicago. This means that my apartment is so small, I have to choose one thing every day to throw away. I mean, if I let it go a week, I'd probably be a borderline hoarder. Closets? I have ONE. So for me it's more like one new article of clothing in? Six old ones must be given away. Immediately, like same day. None of this building a bag to donate, NO ROOM for that. The only place I do not feel cluttered is my fridge. Because it's huge and new and pretty. I could jam more and more cheese, produce, beer, whipped cream all the time. And I can KEEP things. Like condiments. I have some. I don't have to throw those away. Sad thing is, I don't cook. Freezer full of Lean Cuisine's and caramel Drumstiks, fridge full of cheese, salsa, milk and beer. Just writing this post makes me want to make a list of what I should go through, clean out, throw away today. There may be something under my bed that lies there mocking me. Back to my point. I want a house. I want a house more than I want anything, more than I've ever wanted anything. And I know this is NOT going to happen if I choose to continue to live in my major metropolitan city. At best, I'll get a condo. Which will just mean what? Maybe another closet, but likely not much more space? And yet there's Mabel, or Billy Bob, or BettySue on Hoarders with these old, big, once lovely HOUSES. Real houses, with yards, and stairs, and stuff. And they fucked it up. And it'll probably have to be torn down. Or if not, the cameras will go away and the asshole will go back to hoarding more crap all over again. Much better to watch "Married to Rock", I told Sil1x. There's nothing at all to get mad at that show about!!

Here they are!

These mah kidz.

Vince, Erica, Andrew, Angela.

My kids

I get attached to people very, very easily. Sure, I'm a venom-spewing, people-hating misanthrope most of the time, but when I like people, I really like them. So, there's my kids. I've written about them here before, but it's been a while, so humor me. Plus, I'm on cold meds, so humor me more. My kids. Ok, not really kids anymore. The youngest is 22. They can drink. They plan on drinking tonight, when I see them. Tonight.When.I.See.Them. See, I had let my kids go. Or so I thought. It's been over three years since I stopped working at the Teen Center. While I don't miss the place, I always miss what good we were doing there. I'm proud of my seven years there, even though some days were the hardest days of my life. But my kids made that job easy. There is a core four of them, and an extended pile of about a dozen or more all together. I saw the core four last year. Probably around Christmas. We agreed we'd see each other over the summer. Didn't happen. So, I let them go. They are all my friends on teh fb now, so I just figured I'd keep up with them there, and that would be enough for me. They are growing up, they have lives, and more important things to do than to catch up with me. Then, one day early November, I got an email from one of them. He wanted us all to get together at Thanksgiving. We made plans - that I eventually and unfortunately had to break. They sent more emails. December 20th was agreed on, and even my kid who now lives in Los Angeles would be able to go. Today is December 20th. These kids have family and friends to see, and they are all coming downtown to have dinner with me. We'll eat and *sigh* drink and be very merry. We have years and years of memories to recall, and they have loads and loads of new stories for me, with their college lives, and real lives and all. And I will smile like I haven't smiled in a while. And I will hug them all, because even the boys (men?) let me hug them. And I will tear up a little on my train home. Because I know, now, that no matter how old my kids get, and however far they travel, and whatever they end up doing, I will always occupy a little corner in their brains, a part of their good memories from their high school days. Because I am theirs' and they are mine. Hopefully for many many years to come.

Fridge Note:

I'm sick. Like porcupine in my throat sick. I hate sore throats, they can lead to other bad things. So, I have nothing witty nor bitchy to say. Who wants to bring me a venti vanilla roobois tea latte? This seems to be the only thing that helps me...... boo hiss, I say.

Gack

Words I don't like at this time of year: Wintery Mix Feels Like Measurable Snowfall Wind Chill Is-it-cold-enough-for-you-? Sleet Ok, sleet is a very cool word, just when it happens not in Chicago.