Thursday, December 06, 2007

Are we there yet?

Coffee. NOT! Working! Damn hormones.

Thursday and already my mind is on the weekend, things I'd love to get accomplished. I think it's an open weekend, meaning no real attachments or crap planned. In December, even for closet cases like us, that can be a rare thing. Next Friday is the company Christmas party, which we haven't decided on yet (they're advertising karaoke.....::shudders::......maybe we can hit the free food and get out before anyone grabs a mike...), and that Sunday is Flash your Stash with the KB gang, and the weekend after that is SC. Holy crap! This weekend I'd love to get the tree up, finally get the books to Chamblin's, and lay out on paper how the frick we're gonna make Christmas work. Then there's bringing in the aloe plants and cooker, downsizing Figaro's litter boxes, tossing the bikes, and every other little thing that I've talked about lately and blown off for one reason or writing down what I'm planning to plant in the spring, making a true list of my containers, what they're good for, what I'll need to buy, how the planting may lay out time-wise, and how I can accommodate the fact that there's an excellent chance that when I'm wanting to do this, I won't even have a porch to do it on (because they sent out a flyer recently letting us know that everyone's getting screened-in in the near future, which means probably tearing our entire porch down, because it's a poster child for wood rot and has a substantial crack in the concrete slab) know...small stuff like that...

In my defense, it's been a weird week; anything that takes me out "on a school night" leaves me a shade off-kilter for a day or so...add raging PMS to that, and I probably shouldn't be out in public for long periods of time. My body develops an internal hum, and I don't react well to change, like someone asking me a frickin' question. Probably a good thing the caffeine doesn't feel like it's up to par this morning, or else I'd really be flying. But there's a snap in the air, which puts a spring in my step, so I press nose to grindstone and mark time 'til the weekend.

I'm actually in a really decent holiday mood this year...taking a lighthearted unitarian view, where the spirit of the season is what counts, everybody's entitled to their beliefs about what went down this time of year, so screw it and pass the eggnog! One of the local stations changed to all-Christmas music after Thanksgiving, and I can listen to it for the most part without wanting to impale anyone with a plastic icicle...with the exception of Paul McCartney's "Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime"...that melody gets on my last nerve, always has. There are paper snowflakes on my desk at work, and I made a cream cheese banana bread last night that kicked butt. It's the little things...

Dad still sneaking up on me...he's in the back of my head usually, but then something microscopic occurs to pull him to the front...and we're talking microscopic: yesterday it was seeing Fels Naptha soap on a shelf in the grocery store (which he used, along with Lava, after a heavy-duty day in the garage), and before that, it was seeing the word "dungaree" in a word game. Cyril and I used to get the giggles because Dad called jeans dungarees. How the hell can he be gone? I am at peace with it, in the sense that his visit with me on Halloween served as Neosporin for the sucking chest wound that was my grief (waxing metaphoric again), but we still don't REALLY know what killed him, so I have a feeling I'm going to hit Bargaining again really soon (in the five stages) and go searching for answers. Was going to grab his hospital file last time I visited Mom, but I forgot...but what I really want is his cardiologist's file.

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