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.

MAN!

Wow. That last post was sooo much better in my head. Sorry about that lords and ladies. I'll try better next time. F*ck me for trying to write a decent post while I'm pretty busy at work. On a totally unrelated note: Welcoming Consider the Source to my blogroll. Because, you see, he's HIlarious, and an all around good guy.