It's Only A Paper Rose

{A whole Christmas season and I haven't used my Picard icon once? Shame on me. Better fix that, even if it's not quite a perfect fit for the mood.}

Christmas has been lovely. Last night the Bisbee Royale (local bar/stage/venue that was refurbished and opened up this year) was showing A Christmas Story, which I'd somehow managed to miss all through my childhood. (Brian had been meaning to watch it with me, but he grew up with 24-hour marathons of it on TNT, so he'd never quite been able to work up much enthusiasm to rent it.) While I will happily agree with him that it's not a great movie, watching it half-blitzed on excellent cognac with a whole group of folks cackling equally loudly at poor Ralphie is possibly the ideal way to enjoy it. Especially when you have a husband to drive you home.

We did get home, and opened our presents; I got Brian a lot of silly toys from ThinkGeek, including a cuddly Portal turret to go with the cuddly Endeavour shuttle he got at the California Science Center (how did I forget to mention that we went to see Endeavour while we were in LA?), and he got me a couple of books and a lovely new shirt. The standout gift, though, had to be the gorgeous wine stopper our landlords gave us - it has a sculpture of a copper butterfly with the most gorgeous cloisonne work. My favorite kind of art: gorgeous, functional, and likely to get a goodly amount of use.

For Christmas Day, we invited our friends Evan and Michelle over to hang out while Brian made an amazing ham dinner. I even used a tablecloth and set the table and everything - I was a little surprised to find that over the years we've managed to accumulate some lovely Christmas dishes, nice glassware, candles, and a centerpiece. It's like we have an actual household with nice holiday things! Not that I'm complaining; mostly I was just a bit surprised, as I've never really set out to accumulate special china or what have you.

Now the friends have gone (taking some leftovers with them, thankfully), and the house is quiet once more. I feel like there should be softly falling snow outside, though of course there isn't (it's 46 degrees out, after all). And I feel...not let down, exactly. But contemplative.

Honestly, I've always found the tail end of Christmas to be a far more contemplative/wistful time than New Year's. New Year's is exciting; it's the beginning of another cycle, full of all sorts of possibilities. Christmas, especially the end of Christmas...it's another year done with. Everything important, all the big milestones and events and plans, are over. You're just in that strange week-long limbo until the calendars all tick over and you can start something new.

(Now that I think on it, it's always felt odd to me, that week between Christmas and New Year's. Poised between two stages, as it were. I'm almost certain I've read about various indigenous cultures that had terms for that state of in-betweeness, often with rather interesting beliefs about it - a child who had reached their age of majority but not yet completed their rite of passage into adulthood, for instance, was in some cultures thought to be without a soul (having given up their childhood soul but not yet gained their adult one). I remember as a kid thinking that this last week of the year felt oddly...empty, somehow. Like a held breath, just waiting for the right moment to let it all out.)

It's been a good year in many, many ways. Brian and I have managed to get better at communicating and to improve on more than a few issues in our relationship. I bought a guitar and have been learning to play it (although it seems weird to think that I've been playing for less than a year; it's really felt more like I've always been a guitarist, and just been on break for a while, and am reminding myself how it all goes again). I traveled to the East Coast for the first time, and spent some time with a good friend while also meeting the nifty people he lives with/around. I auditioned for a prestigious music school, despite it being [a] scary as hell, [b] quite a bit of effort and [c] a long shot anyway. I went back to Alaska and saw people I miss greatly, while also confirming my hunch that, frankly, I've outgrown the place.

But I think I'm ready to move on. This next year promises to be interesting, though so far it's been coy as to the details. And the only way to find them out, really, is to go forward.

Onward and upward...

Tonight, Brian and I went to Cabaret De Los Muertos, a variety show of local talent. Among other things, I finally discovered a use for dubstep - the trademark "wub-wub-wub-wub" sound works very well with the shimmying movements in bellydance. So apparently you *can* dance to dubstep - if you're a bellydancer, anyway.

Aside from the (plentiful, cute, and quite skilled) bellydance acts, there were some standouts on both ends of the scale:

The "Good Concept But Needed More Work" award went to a couple dressed as a devil and a Dia De Los Muertos skeleton, doing a tango of sorts. You could see the act that it was meant to be, and there were moments that were close, but the female dancer especially seemed a little too uncertain of her role to really pull it off.

The "Holy Shit Core Strength" award goes to Tiana, the organizer and lead bellydancer. She can backbend nearly parallel to the floor, slowly let herself down and drop to her knees, all the while waving her arms about in the air. I could...probably do that if I practiced. A lot. And didn't end up wrenching my knees in the drop.

Shortly after intermission came the "Well, At Least You Made Your Colleagues Look Good In Comparison" award, for the half-baked dude who tried very hard to do a half-baked standup act. Unfortunately, his half-baked rambling really wasn't that funny, though a couple of jokes about high fructose corn syrup got some laughs. Ah, Bisbee.

The "Capability But No Theatricality" award went to the girl who sang "Black Swan". Points to her for trying - that is not an easy song to sing, what with the dissonances and odd rhythms going every which way. Unfortunately, the sound system really wasn't set up for voice, so it was difficult to make out the words; and since she was focusing so much on the song, it left the performance feeling a little lacking. Still, she had a lovely voice and gave a memorable operatic-style rendition.

Shortly thereafter came the "Less Capability But Oodles of Theatricality" award winners, a group of genderbending performers calling themselves "Dance Matrix". They did a very Broadway-style dance to what had to be a Meatloaf song; none of them were what you'd call great dancers, but they understood that if you're going to perform to Meatloaf, you have to go all the fucking way or it just doesn't work. And I'll be damned if they didn't do exactly that. Frankly, they alone were worth the ticket price.

Unfortunately, Brian's getting over the latest bug that's been going around the County, so we went home after the show rather than going to any of the street parties or dances taking place. But as Halloween celebrations go, I can definitely think of worse ones.

Yes, Valentine's is hyper-commercialized and rote and more than a little ridiculous. And yet, somehow, I have a hard time accepting the idea that there's such an excess of love in the world as to make it not worth mentioning, worth celebrating, on this or any other day.

So stop complaining, read the poem, think on all the people you love, and tell them so today.

(Poem stolen from the lovely marialuminous.)

"Love Is Not All"
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.

Well, they say Christmas is a time for wishes to come true.

And after three rounds of bleach, two failed dye jobs, an ultimately pointless round with dye stripper and more money than I like to think about spent at the local beauty supply place...



My wish finally came true.

( More pictures and description of the long and arduous journey to follow... )

Wandered down the hill to work listening to Simple Things today. It's been a Zero 7 kind of a day; quiet, recuperative, waiting; the calm before the storm. (Though whether I still feel that way after Zumba tonight remains to be seen.)

The party (and the egg nog) was a smash. The latter surprised me a bit; I'd always thought of egg nog as something you drank because it was traditional rather than any great desire to do so, and this particular recipe came out so rich I doubted anyone would want more than a bit. And yet more than a gallon of it disappeared, which (especially considering that probably a third of the guests were nondrinkers) I suppose demonstrates otherwise pretty decisively. And in all fairness, it was pretty tasty. Next year I'm definitely going to try making it earlier so it can age longer.

I'm also going to try to resurrect the movie-night thing I had going in Juneau; more than one person expressed the desire to come back to worship at our Altar to Entertainment. So that'll be another way to work on the "be more social" goal.

In theory, assuming his truck doesn't break down again, my brother will be arriving sometime late tonight. I'm a little apprehensive about his visiting - it's been most of a decade since we saw each other last, and our relationship in that period has been rocky at best. But I'm going to try my best to be a gracious host, and maybe see if we can build a foundation of mutual respect. Because he is my brother, and I do care about him, even if we clash from time to time.

It snowed last night - not a light dusting, but real, thick, fluffy, Alaska-style snow. Most of it's melted by now, but I got some lovely pictures this morning, which I'll have to post up sometime in the next few days, along with the pictures of the cards I made everyone. Ah, good intentions...at least the holiday makes for a deadline of sorts.

I seem to have a real streak going for creativity-enabling gifts going. This year I have it on good authority I'm getting a sewing machine and a serger, so I can start making clothes again (or even just sewing trim onto cards). And I'm already getting frustrated enough with the limitations of my point-and-shoot camera that I may be angling for the Costco pack of the Canon Rebel for my birthday. (Give credit where it's due, Brian totally called this one, and he was totally right, despite my protestations that all I wanted was something uncomplicated and easy to use. Stupid perfectionism rearing its head; I don't like posting crappy photos.)

Christmas is less than a week away. Sheesh, when did that happen?

In preparation for the upcoming holiday party I have planned on the 17th, I made this recipe today. For those of you with a crippling fear of profanity or links (in which case, why are you reading my blog?), that goes to a 1930s-era Joy of Cooking recipe for egg nog. I made it half again as large, which meant eighteen eggs, seven cups of booze (five of bourbon and two of rum), a pound and a half of confectioners' sugar, three quarts of whipping cream, and a full three nuts of nutmeg all grated up into it.

Needless to say, it was a bit of an experience.

First off, the eggs were from Costco, which apparently follows the "bigger is better" philosophy when it comes to individual units as well as packages - all 18 of the eggs were HUGE. Then there was the booze-pouring; it felt downright strange to be dealing with bourbon and rum in cups instead of ounces. I ran out of space in our largest bowl at the adding-cream stage, but fortunately I still had two quarts to add, so I just poured half of it into our next-largest bowl and split the rest of the recipe down the middle. And then there was the fridge-Tetris to get both bowls in the fridge for their three-hour rest. (Fortunately we haven't done any serious grocery shopping in a while.) Finally was the nutmeg, which (of course) had to be freshly grated. I think there may be a bit of the top of my thumb in there somewhere.

Now that it's all done, though, there's a gallon and a half (or 16,632 calories) of nog sitting in the fridge waiting to age a bit. Even fresh it's not half bad, although I'm hoping that the nutmeg flavor gets stronger over the next few days. And if I so wish, I can put little labels on the eggnog cups at the party: "HELLO MY NAME IS 462 calories! Merry Christmas!"

It just occurred to me that I've likely consumed my 2000 calorie daily intake today without ingesting a single 'healthy' food. Ah well. I guess that's what the holidays are for.

Dinner with Janae planned at Screaming Banshee after work - bribery in exchange for helping us finish decorating the house.

A Christmas tree that fits in our room, all set up and waiting for ornaments.

Two cards in the mail - one with a photo that makes me smile every time I look at it, and one a response from a friend that I hear from far too seldom.

Mexican style hot chocolate from the local coffee place, and the dude behind the counter remembered me and piled as much whipped cream on it as he could.

Slowly getting back on top of housework and other stuff we've gotten behind on thanks to NNWM and Brian being ill.

It's a good day today.

Just got a spam entitled "DSL Internet - Get access to blazing fast speeds!" Uhm, dude? 1998 called. They want their technology back. (Sadly, though, the American perception of "blazing fast speeds" probably hasn't changed much in the past thirteen years...)

I have the day off work today, in theory because the contractor was supposed to come back and paint the ceiling today. In practice, he didn't show up; when I called him after he was an hour late, I got "Oh yeah, I left a message on your phone, did you not get it? I can't make it today." In the interests of not coming off as a grump/unwilling to give the benefit of the doubt, I note here that I specifically asked him to call me if anything came up; I might also note that no such message or incoming call was noted on my Google Voice or my cell phone, and it should have logged itself on both. He's a nice guy and does decent work, but getting him to actually show up is like pulling teeth, I swear. (Mini-rant: Is there a rule somewhere that contractors everywhere have to perennially be running behind schedule and over budget? Of the many experiences with them that I and my acquaintances have had, I can think of exactly one that arrived on time, did the job, did it well, and was out the door within the timeframe they said they would be. I'm sure there are plenty of reliable, efficient contractors out there, but I'll be damned if I've ever met one. End of rant.) I told him to just not worry about it until after Christmas - the ceiling isn't awful-looking, and I want to get my decorations up already. Grump. Grump.

At least the day off won't go to waste - I have oodles of things to do today. Brian's home sick, but I don't mind that too much; he's pretty self-sufficient when he's ill, plus it means I can use the car to run errands and things. Plus he'll be around for decorating, even if he won't be as participatory as normal.

Also, I'm putting up outside lights this year! For the first time in my life (despite growing up in the suburbs) I'll have outdoor Christmas lights! Nothing super-fancy, just some icicle lights over the deck and a few strings of colored ones to outline the eaves with. Our house is so adorable, and you can see it from the bottom of the hill - it'll look just like a little gingerbread cottage. And for some reason, that prospect is making even several hours spent on a ladder seem like fun.

But first, time for some marathon writing. I've got over 9000 words to go in the next two days, but if I can reach my earlier 2000-words-an-hour rate, that's more than manageable. I think part of the reason that worked so well before was that I was developing a strong emotional arc between two of the characters, which made the beats for each scene fairly easy to map out. That part's mostly done with now, so I'll have to see if I can find another one to follow.

4000 words, then I can put up lights. That's my deal with myself. If I get really ambitious, I'll get another 2000-3000 in before putting up interior decorations, but that'll probably depend on how long the lights take.

So I'd better get going so I'm not putting up lights in the dark...

Finally broke 40K, only...*counts* three days late. Par for today is 45,000. But considering I had a good week of mood swings and non-productivity, that's not too shabby. And assuming I keep at it, it'll be easier than last year, when I did the entire last 10,000 words in one day.

Also, I managed to do 3,000+ words in just over an hour and a half this morning, which is about twice as fast as my usual "working steadily" rate. I'd say I'm just getting better at not self-censoring, except I'm actually sort of proud of the bits I've written this morning - I might post one of them as an excerpt once I get around to the editing part. (Of course, it's perfectly possible that I *am* getting better at the not-self-censoring, and I'm just a better writer than I think I am. But I'm sure I'll have plenty of crap to sort through in the editing process, too.)

But for now? It's time to decorate! Woo, Christmas!

Today, I finally discovered the secret flavor in my college roommate's amazing cranberry-orange sauce.

Today, I am a man.