HO HO HO it's that time of year where we run around in circles and wonder why we aren't getting anywhere. I do love the holidays though. All the lights, fireplace stockings and corny old movies.
The winter solstice is also on its' way, so we can climb over the shortest day of the year to begin coming home in daylight once again. I miss my evening walks with Brian and the dog. I hate that it is dark at 5:30pm. I enjoy those first nights of spring when a neighbor's lawn has just been cut and the air smells of grass and flowers. Everything has this crisp, just washed feel to it.
This evening, upon leaving my ex's (where Brian is still sick and I spend the better part of the day coordinating my ex's business Christmas mailers - my life is so strange) I decide to stop by Whole Foods to get sushi for dinner. Around here you can't beat Whole Foods for it's sushi. But some of the clientele are so strange. It reminds me of when my ex dated Granola-Garlic Girl (as we liked to call her). She always smelled of either garlic or granola and eventually left him for Eight ball-head Granola Guy. I used to tell my ex that he wasn't strange enough for her, which would have to be pretty damn strange.
Like the lady at the counter in WF who was in my way with her crocheted cap, hemp clothes and Ugg slippers asking the deli-person if the tofu was fresh ... HUH? These are the moments I ask myself why I am in this store with boar brush toothbrushes and gluten-free, rice-free, taste-free, no animals were harmed, hard as rock bread. I often grin as I don't think they realize what happens when a farmer cultivates wheat. No one really talks about the rodents, bugs, birds and the like that get whacked down with the wheat and become part of the bread. At least they were range free bugs...(?). But do you ever go into a store and it feels like some strange force is keeping you from just running in and getting out, groceries in hand? I had to say excuse me three times to get the tofu-concerned hemp girl to move over so I could pick up my sushi. Then a guy with 5000 braided pieces of hair with different rubber bands was feeling all the apples like they were a date, so I skipped on my favorite sour granny smiths and headed for the cashier, only to encounter person after person stopped dead center of an isle, cart and all looking out into space.
They all can't be stoned... can they?
I finally make it to the parking lot to what appears to be a car lot of BMW's with guys. Beammers are an odd choice for a guy - it is really a fem car. Don't you think? I grin when I think of my girlfriends in college, as we referred to BMW's as: Boring Men Within or Bed-wetting Man Within, because it never failed that guys we dated that drove beammers were lousy dates. We used to make bets on who had the worst BMW date. One of mine was with Larry the lawyer from San Francisco who got his rocks off spinning donuts on the freeway. Yes, I did type freeway. The third time he did it on our 2nd date, I asked him to take me to the nearest hotel. He thought it was for sex, but I used the lobby phone to call my brother. I then told him my brother was on his way to kill him. He left without saying goodbye... parting is such sweet sorrow. My brother told me he was looking forward to killing an attorney. Hey, some nights you are the pigeon, some times the statue below... that particular week I won the bad-date contest and didn't have to help clean the apartment.
The lawyer was just lucky my dad wasn't alive for me to call.
This is the time of year I also get Christmas cards from old boyfriends. One has just had another daughter and he is 53. Good lord infants in your 50's. I think they should be nominated for saint hood ... or the State hospital. I think God helped me dodge that baby making bullet. Another is lonely in Canada ... a third is working too much ... and one isn't doing what he is suppose to be doing (clearing throat) ... But I like their cards. I love getting anything in the mail that isn't a bill, an advertisement or the IRS ... put a photo on it, fold it, add some sentiments and a signature and it makes for the perfect holiday surprise. It's nice to be remembered with an effort. It means thatI matter to them. A girl likes to know that she mattered.
Our broker (who is also my ex boss - the same tall sexy man) got into quite the argument with me this week. I hung up on him. We haven't had a fight like this since I worked for him. He had to call my ex husband to vent. My ex says, "Hey buddy don't bitch to me. I have lived it for 16 years now." I had to laugh. So now me and Mr. Broker aren't talking. My ex says, "I could advise him, but then I don't want you not speaking to me." Did hell freeze over and no one told me ... cause I think my ex is growing wiser with age. It is odd when people want to push you - give you attitude. Then when you have had enough and bark back, they act all indignant and put out. I encounter this often because people mistake nice for no-boundaries and when they cross my line I let them know right to their face. They always have that "But I thought you were just going to let me act this way and treat you like shit and how dare you call me on my shit" look on their faces. This ex boss is no different, except his was more the "What, you do exactly what I have always asked you to do, and because I didn't pay attention, nor plan this and am now caught off guard I am going to get in your face" attitude. At what part did he brain fart and forget I am a redhead? I don't think so sparky.
On a better note, Brian and I shared a nice moment on the couch last night. We were talking about school and reading. I was telling him how amazing I think he is, how proud I am and how lucky I feel that he is my son. His face gets this funny look as his eyes well up with tears. My heart races as I begin to ask if his teacher is mistreating him in school (just watch how quickly I become like a lioness protecting her cubs). He shakes his head and says "I don't know..." and then it hit me. "Are you overwhelmed that your mother thinks you are so special and amazing?" He nods his head as tears roll down his face. I take his face in my hands and tell him it is all true, and he smiles. God I hate teachers for what they do to kids self-esteem. "Brian you can be anything you want - you are THAT great!" I tell him. He buries his face in my chest. I don't know what I did on this earth that was so wonderful that God should give me such a great gift in Brian, but I am grateful ... every single day.
I do swear that some day when I have the money, as God is my witness, I am going to help all the kids like Brian, who suffer at the hands of our school system because they learn differently. I see them at Brian's school and they are all my favorite kids. How a teacher can be mean to them is beyond my comprehension. It takes a lot for a child to hate an adult - children are like puppies. So when a great many say they hate a certain teacher, I know that teacher should be fired. I love taking bad teachers on. I know how they can make a child suffer. Someday we are all going to change this and make school districts accountable for abusive, inept teachers. I don't care if the teachers hate me.
Speaking of Brian and children ... I haven't done much Christmas shopping yet. I fear I will be one of those people out on Christmas Eve frantically searching for that 2nd glove. Then wrapping everything in my mother's back bedroom while guests arrive. If people get gifts from 7-11 I hope they are appreciative... There is nothing that says, "Merry Christmas, Love you" quite like a Bic lighter three pack.
Aghhhhh I have written enough for today and need to go turn off all the outside lights. Tonight, more mid-season reruns because network TV still loves to send the message how unimportant we are. I have a new book I want to begin and it is the perfect rainy night to curl up in bed with a good book. It's safer, and doesn't require condoms.
Until next time-
C
