My Heart Took a Picture

In 1988 a movie came out with Linda Hamilton called 'Go Toward the Light.'  It was based on a true story of a boy who gets HIV from a blood transfusion.  I was addicted to it beyond measure because, in the late 80s, I was in love with both Linda Hamilton and things that made me cry my eyes out. One of the parts of the movie that continues to stay with me is the scene in which the dying boy is holding his baby brother and their mom says "My heart took a picture."  Maybe it resonated with me because my dad was a photographer, or because I thought it was such a beautiful freedom to be able to take a picture with your heart and carry it with you always.

This morning I taught my last two yoga classes here in MN until I return in August. For the last year, best friend Amy and her husband have come to my early class and then we all head over to Starbucks for breakfast and conversation in which we try to solve all the world's problems--or at least our own.  Amy and I have both changed jobs over our Sunday coffee.  We've planned retirement, trips to Vancouver, and tattoos.  We've vented, cursed, moaned and whined.  We've celebrated, laughed, plotted and schemed. Today we did this one last time for the foreseeable future, since I will have a different teaching schedule when I return.  I managed to not cry in my coffee....even when Amy bought us all cake pops and we sat there like three teenagers trying to guess the flavor of the cake before we ate them and making jokes.  Our Sunday breakfast is something I'd dreamed about my whole life without ever really realizing I was doing it: having a coffee klatch. Who knew?

I taught my second class, then met Amy and John for a "goodbye lunch" that isn't really a goodbye quite yet (it's really goodbye #2 with at least one more to go).  We went to the Golden Nugget for burgers and beer.  John drinks beer all the time. Amy and I never do, but today we were both craving it. We laughed about that.  And we chatted about work, California, yoga, people who don't wash their hands after using the bathroom, whether beer or cocktails are better, and other Very Important Things.

And it was there, while we were sitting down to our second meal of the day, with a beer in my hand and Matt Hires' 'Restless Heart' in the background, that my heart took a picture of my beautiful friends.  Their importance in my life is immeasurable.  My gratitude for moments where all of my senses engage in a way that creates a picture only I can see and that I can take out to look at whenever I want defies description.  It will make me cry for awhile, to think of today, and to hear Restless Heart (yeah, I know---I have no idea what my thing is with that song...for real) and know that today closed out a lovely chapter I've been fond of for such a long time.  Each day that goes by I'm getting more and more excited for my time in California and for the inevitable transformation it will bring...but my Sunday coffee just won't be the same.

Goodbye, Facebook....hello, ??

Wednesday night I deactivated my Facebook page.  I've been thinking for awhile about how Facebook gives people--me--such a false sense of friendship and relationships.  The idea that I have 700+ friends is ludicrous.  A few weeks ago I posted a status saying I was going to cull my friends list.  I got 40+ messages from people saying "please don't defriend me!"  When I deactivated a few days ago? Not a single person has taken the "extra" step to email me to find out where I've run off to.  I'm not upset about it; in fact, it proves my point.  It's easy, passive, and lazy to scroll down a page and "like" things and comment--but to have this be a measure by which I count my friendships?  No.  I can't do it anymore.

On the contrary, though the last week has been...um...a difficult one, people who are my true friends have stepped out to support me in a way that I kind of forgot exists because of Facebook.  A few of them knew I was having a hard week; a few of them didn't.  And, their kindness and love even when they didn't know I needed extra kindness and love was affirming in a way that no amount of "liking" could ever do on FB.

And the universe is taking care of me. Last night Amy and her husband fed me cocktails and dinner, laughter and advice, until I was so grateful I thought I'd burst.   Tonight was a night I've been dreading most of the week, and I got a random, spontaneous invitation this morning to a party.  I went, laughed for a few hours, and got to meet some new people.

Will I go back to Facebook? Sure.  Facebook is fine.  And there are definitely people I want to stay connected with, where Facebook is the only logical place to do that.  But, when I started up on Facebook back in...2007? I've kind of rolled along as it morphed into this gigantic, time-sucking, socially-demoralizing monster.  Now that I've pulled away---been FB free for two whole days, whoohoo!---I'm starting to see it as more of what it is.  And, who knows....it may bring me back to blogging!

The Beginning of Birthday Awesomeness

Last night was the official kickoff to Birthday 36, which will make its arrival on Monday.  Amy and I went to dinner at a place where they have a car--an Escalade, no less--that will come pick you up then drop you back home again.  What does that spell? Unlimited wine consumption!! Huzzah!  We ate, drank, celebrated my birthday and celebrated her new job.  Then the Escalade picked us back up and we headed back to her place for more wine and dessert.  We talked until too late, then trundled off to bed.  This morning I woke up to the smell of coffee and bagels---perfect hangover cure.

I went to the last practice of my 35th year at noon, and I focused today on moving with total intention.  Every movement I considered before I made it.  It slowed my practice down quite a bit and I couldn't do everything, but it was such an interesting experience.  After class I didn't want to leave my mat...felt so amazingly peaceful and lucky.

Tonight the celebration will continue with another friend and probably another dinner.  I love birthday weeks :-)

Reunion time!

Tomorrow two old friends from college are traipsing into my domicile for a weekend of debauchery and craziness. The plan is for them to arrive around 2pm and, well, that's our plan. There will be food, booze, the pool, some yoga, and total hilarity. I even cleaned the house for the occasion.

A good guy, gone too soon.

Last night I went to pick up my friend Lisa for our dinner date. As I rounded the corner onto her block, I saw police cars, lights, etc. "Uh oh," I thought. My first thought was that I hope something hadn't happened to my friend, so I texted her to let her know I was there. Tried to find a parking spot. I avoided the cop cars as much as I could, but eventually had to drive past them to park, at which point I saw the medical examiner van tucked between the cop cars.

Called Lisa to let her know that someone had died in her building. We were both sobered by this idea, her especially because it was her building. She said "I heard the ambulance but I didn't think anything of it."

An hour later she got a text from a friend: "Do you know Derek Boogaard?" Lisa texted back, "Is he dead?" Text response: Yes.

Unbelievable.

Derek Boogaard, dead at age 28, a life cut way too short. I can't believe I was at the place where it happened. I can't believe I saw some of it happening. And, I can't believe that I won't see him on the ice "enforcing" anymore. So sad--a true loss to the NHL and to all of us here in MN.

Wow...the horoscope world is right!

Now, I realize that probably everyone who subscribes to DailyOM gets the same horoscope...maybe not, but I'll assume so. Usually I read it with a mixture of interest and amusement, and mostly subscribe so I can get good ideas for yoga themes. Today's horoscope gave me pause, though:

"You may feel somewhat aloof today as you endeavor to meet your regular goals. As you retreat deeper into the solitude beckoning so sweetly to you, the people closest to you as well as those who rely on you may express their displeasure at what they deem your detached demeanor. Your desire for isolation more likely than not has little to do with your feelings for your loved ones and colleagues. If you explain to these individuals that you simply want to spend some time reconnecting with yourself away from the distractions of your outer-world concerns today, they will likely reframe their opinions on your decision to withdraw from social contact."

Stepping away from Facebook seemed to surprise some people...and I was surprised at their surprise. Immediately I had a few people tell me they would miss my status updates, and I've gotten a few "come back and talk to me!" messages via email. It's interesting...Facebook is the most isolated "community". I put my words out there and really assume no one really cares except for 2-3 people that I already see every day anyway. The idea that there are people in my life out there who seek me out to find out how I'm doing is, well, both nifty and a little unnerving.

So not a fan of my paranoid side

I love 11 days off. I do. And you'll never hear me complaining about time away from school/work.

BUT.

Not having a routine can stir up all manner of shit in my head. I'm a creature of habit. And, when those habits get disrupted, my paranoid side gets all fussy. So, tonight I actually texted a friend to see if she was mad at me. Why? Because she hasn't been texting me "as she normally would." I didn't think she was mad because I've actually done something questionable, or because she yelled at me or isn't speaking to me or doing any of the normal "I'm displeased with you" activities. No, Paranoia sets in and, because I'm not working, I have all day to blow it up in my head to where I think she hates me and we're no longer friends. Just 'cause.

I say often how I'd love to marry rich and never have to work again, but I need to work. I'd end up in the asylum if I didn't have a job to get me out of my head for 8 hours a day. Kind of a bummer, but that's how I roll.

Oh, and the friend is not mad. She told me. Tentatively. And then said I was a freak. And, she's right.

Yoga yoga yoga yoga yoga

Tonight Amy and I did our usual yoga class (without happy hour, because the bitch is flying to Hawaii at the crack of dawn tomorrow). Tomorrow, I'm going to go to yoga. Saturday, I'm going to yoga. That's three days of yoga in a row, which means my body will be happy, humming along, and loving me.

I'm sad Amy is going to be gone for so long (10 days)...we talk pretty much every day; this will be the longest we've gone without seeing each other in...well...a long damn time. I feel really lucky that we're friends--that she seems to like me as much as I like her. Quite awesome when new people come into your life and make it just that much better.

I can make it through tomorrow at work...then it will be yoga, my lit review, and grading like a crazy person. In other words, just an average day in the life.

Ahh...summer vacation...

In the midst of grad classes and teaching summer school and teaching yoga, once in awhile, I'm able to put all of my obligations aside and fully enjoy a summer day.

Yesterday BFF Erica and I went to the pool in the morning, a movie in the afternoon (The Kids Are All Right...*extraordinary* movie), then shopping, then out for cocktails, then to the bookstore, then to Trader Joe's. Ten hours flew by faster than either of us imagined possible, and when I got home--at 8pm--I was exhausted. (And sunburned..ouchy.)

A few years ago, that description would have applied to every summer day. But, Erica and I have both moved on with a little separation between us. We scheduled yesterday almost a month ago. The nice thing is, we're equally busy, so neither of us feels abandoned, and we both, as we discussed yesterday, are confident enough in our friendship that we don't need to see each other all the time. It's nice to know that we can pick up right where we left off. Friends like that are rare and good to have. I'm very fortunate to have several of them in my life.

How did the shopping and bookstore figure into Operation: 50%? Well...I bought stuff. But, I didn't buy any clothes (I had decided that if I did buy any clothes they would need to replace something in my "keep" pile...that kept me from buying anything.) or shoes. I bought underwear--which I hadn't gone through yet as part of the project.

And I bought 8 books. Well...technically 7 because I got one for my mom. But still...bought 7 books. They were all on my list of "books I want" and I got 9 books (one I bought for Erica) for less than $25. But, buying that many books will definitely contribute to a future problem of tackling my book collection with Operation: 50%.

What does one respond to a largely complicated yet rhetorical question?

"How are you?"

What I say:
"Good. How are you?"

What I would say if I knew the person really wanted to know:
"Shitty. In the last six weeks, my grandma died, I was in a major car accident, a friend's 28 year old brother went to bed and didn't wake up, and just when I thought it couldn't get worse because 'that's three', my colleague and "baby brother" collapsed on his classroom floor in a seizure, fracturing his skull and is out of work for God-knows-how-long. So, now, I have to go buy a stupid new car, which I don't want because I can't afford one, nevermind that my insurance is going to go up for that new car, and my adjustors are all concerned that I don't spend money out of pocket for a stamp, but can't help the thousands of dollars I'll be out because some asshole apparently thought I was a ghost car that he could turn through, OR, like in so many other aspects of my life, I was completely invisible and he didn't see me at all. I'm also in intense physical pain following any activity other than laying down, can't turn my neck to a respectable (or safe) distance, and can't do yoga. Not only can't I do yoga, I also can't teach it, which is more money I'm out for however long, and just when I should be picking up more classes, I'm fighting to keep the ones I have. And I miss my yoga, which was my stress relief. So now, at possibly the most stressful environment I've ever been in in my life, I have no outlet.

That response seems to be just a tad too lengthy for someone who just shouts out the "how are you" in passing in the hallway. But, I don't have the energy to lie and say "Good." And I don't really care how anyone else is right now. I'm in no shape to help out anyone but me. I'm waking around in this dream state--that place where everyone seems like they're talking really loudly but they're probably not, and it's all kind of fuzzy anyway? So what I do is just stare at them and try to form an appropriate answer, but by the time I have one, they're gone without hearing me because they never really wanted to know in the first place.

So, don't ask me how I am, please...just refer to the above.

If a picture is worth a thousand words...

then I'm one hell of a writer.

I just got home from getting some photographs developed at Walgreens. And by "some photographs", I mean 290 pictures. No, I didn't get married or go on some fancy-schmancy trip. Rather, I just got a bug up my arse tonight to finally go through and make real the virtual history I've been cataloging on my computer in the "my pictures" file.

For example: The only picture I have in "hard copy" of my dog is one that my dad, a professional photographer, took. The dog is three years old.

The 290 pictures include:

Yoga fun night
Pictures of Gatsby the Wonder Dog
My mom's 60th birthday
"Girls' Night" 2006 (yeah, that's the right date.)
Yoga graduation
Superior camping trip 2008

And there are other events too. It's so nice to have pictures to look at, physically, of events as recent as just a few months ago. And, the best part is I got coupons (because I paid someone's salary for the whole night in one fell swoop with my order), so now I can go through and get even more :-)

Never have Christ and I been mentioned so many times in the same sentence.

Three days ago I celebrated my 33rd birthday. It was exactly the way I wanted it to be--spent the day doing various enjoyable activities: lunch with Erica, teaching summer school, etc. I did not do yoga or take a nap, but, well, there are only 24 hours in a day.

Last night I had a party, where a lengthy conversation took place about Jesus Christ, and how he was crucified when he was 33 years old. I knew this already, largely because of my Catholic friend Jessie who told me this detail on her 33rd birthday. My hope is that my year turns out better than his did. Seriously.

So, here's to 33: brought in with a good solid whibang (not a whimper, not a bang)...may it be an absolutely outstanding year full of more publications, more yoga, and more teaching. And, maybe, just MAYBE, I'll figure out where and how I want to spend my 34th year.

A coupla single gals out on the town

Jodi and I went to Grumpys tonight after a somewhat successful (read: successful for her, total failure for me) workshop on Loft teaching proposals. The purpose was to discuss life, celebrate birthdays, eat tots, and, most importantly, drink beer.

Jodi and I are each other's only single friend. So, the talk inevitably turns to something of that subject--either how happy we are to be single, how sick we are of our married friends feeling sorry that we're single, or comparing various "singleton" habits. Once in awhile we chuckle over the idea of us living with any other human being.

Tonight we covered all of those subjects and more. And, from our conversation came two insights: one, that I have virtually everything I would need to survive nuclear warfare within arm's reach of my "spot" on the couch. Two, that it's possible, just *possible* that we don't actually want to get married.

The topic got started because Jodi was lamenting about the latest barrage of questions on her singleness. She said she's not sure she wants to get married but doesn't know if that's her "real answer" or a defense mechanism. I said I thought that we're at the age where the dream needs to become a reality or we switch the dream to one we can achieve (I said it neither that poetically or that sappily, by the way), and likened it to a novel. "Like when people ask me if I want to publish a novel," I said. "Sure, I say, if I've written one!" "Yes!" Jodi said, "It's exactly like that!" And we decided that, as thirtysomethings, we needed concrete dreams. It's not enough to say "Yes, I want to get married." Rather, it needs to be "I want to be married to _____."

Jodi then asked the million dollar question: "Have you ever not gotten something that you really wanted?" And I paused, swilled some of my Miller Lite, and realized that, no, I have never NOT gotten something that I REALLY wanted. Bing! Grumpy's lit up enough for me to see the smoke ring shadows on the walls from yesteryear. She went on to say, "Don't you think that if we really wanted to be married we would be? Why would that be the one thing we wanted and didn't get?"

And it's true....from the time I was little I have led a very blessed, very fulfilled life. I can honestly say I want for nothing. And yeah, I complain a lot, but when the end of the day rolls around and I crawl into my bed with a full belly and a roof over my head and my beloved Gatsby curled up next to me, my complaints always seem to fade away. I wanted to go to St. Olaf. Got it. I wanted to become a teacher. Got it. I wanted to, more recently, go to Belize to the writer's conference. Got it. I wanted to teach yoga. Done. I wanted to be published. Yep, got that too.

Of course my wants have changed over the years, and there are things that I probably wanted at one time and didn't get so my wants changed. I think marriage is in that category, but I'm not sure. In my 20s I wanted to get married because that's what you're supposed to want in your twenties. But now? Do I want to get married? Sure. Why not? But do I WANT to get married? Not enough to work for it. Not like I work to write, or work to educate myself, or work at yoga. If I meet an awesome guy? Sure, it could change.

There really is nothing in this world quite like getting together with someone who understands exactly where you're coming from with myriad life elements relating to singlehood. We single gals are few and far between--and far more similar than I think even we realize.

It's good to say goodbye

So, over the last eighteen months or so, I've met a lot of really incredible people. People who make me feel good when I'm with them. People who have taught me great lessons and who have allowed me to teach them. People who I want to "fast track" friendships because they're just so damn awesome.

But, just as these people come into my life, they also leave again. And though I am so thankful for the impact that these new friends have, I'm also so sad when they leave my life again that it's almost unbearable at points. And I know that I need to learn to appreciate these friends for whatever their role is in my life--think reason, season, or lifetime--and that not everyone will be a lifetime friend.

It makes me wonder, though...with all of the social networks--Facebook, Myspace, etc.--how will we ever learn to say goodbye to people? Ultimately, it's healthy for us to have to say goodbye. Because, eventually, we will all say goodbye for one last time to everyone we know. Sometimes we'll be lucky enough to know it, but most of the time we are blissfully unaware of the "last time" we say goodbye. Teenagers who have grown up in the Facebook culture never lose touch with anyone. They have thousands of "friends". They don't have that opportunity people my age and older have had to take a ten year break from their high school friends before showing up, new and improved, at a reunion. They lose that feeling of "I won't see these people ever again...but that's okay."

I'm concerned about how the future will grieve. Americans never have to give up anything, except to death. We all find a way around it. Lose your job? Collect unemployment. Lose your house? Move in with the parents. Move away from everyone you know? Facebook! Myspace! Email! Best friend alive one day and dead the next? Um...oh. Yeah, there's nothing to appease that. And all of the "little deaths" that we've managed to shut out of our lives--saying goodbye to friends, moving away from home, whatever it is--are necessary to living a healthy life. We need to learn to grieve on a small scale in order to adjust to how grief feels. In order to realize that grief hurts--loss hurts--and though there is no way to make it go away, the feelings will eventually change.

Several of my new friends who have faded back out of my life are my friends on Facebook. And my heart says "yay! They're still there! We're still connected! I didn't lose anything!" But my brain is sending out warning signals: learn to grieve. Remember that loss is a part of life. Appreciate what you have while you have it, and when it's gone understand that that space is now available for something new.

It's good to say goodbye. We will all have to--no matter how entitled we feel, that won't change.

My own personal 'Final Destination'

Dudes.

Okay, so tonight I'm on my way to yoga teacher training with Michelle and Kyle, fellow yogis. We drive together when we can, since we all live near each other. So, I leave my house 25 minutes early--plenty of time *even with snow* to get to Edina CorePower to meet. Well, not so much. Hwy 169 is bumper to bumper. And, I hit *every single* red light. I mean ALL of them. I'm like "dude, is there a conspiracy here??" And, as if that wasn't enough, every time someone could turn right in front of me causing me to slam on my breaks, he/she did so. It was insane.

So, I arrive fifteen minutes late to meet my peeps.

Then, the adventure really begins...

We (Michelle is driving) sit for a thousand years on a few roads trying to get to Hwy 100. This is the first inkling we had that perhaps time was not on our side this evening. Then, we miss the entrance to Hwy 100 because a tow truck is blocking the lane. No problem, we turn onto the next exit and work our way back to Hwy 100--only to see the very same tow truck has moved on its way and if we'd been a few second later we would have been fine.

Whatever. We drive and we drive and we drive. Kyle gives Becka (our yoga teacher) a courtesy call letting her know we'll be late.

We drive and we drive and we drive. Paul calls and I tell him I'm crabby.

We drive, and we drive, and we drive.

It takes us another thousand years and Kyle's iphone to get us onto a road where things are actually moving. We are now, like, 45 minutes late and alternating between amused, frustrated, and incredulous.

Then we get rear ended. I'm serious. Jerkoff taxi driver rams us at a red light, straight bumper to bumper and then tries to tell Michelle it was HER fault because she pulled out right in front of him. At a stop light. Where we were stopped for a good 10-15 seconds before we felt the slam from the rear. He pretends to look for his insurance information and lets the meter run on the poor people sitting in the back of his cab while Michelle and I stand out in the street and Kyle looks at the back of Michelle's bumper.

We arrive almost an hour late to the lecture of Awesome Jo Mary, who gave us one request in her email to us: to not be late. *sigh* Glad we could oblige.

Did I mention we have to get home again?

So we leave class at the end, hop back into the car and onto the slick crazy roads. We're driving along and I hear a faint siren. I turn and look out the back window and there's an ambulance headed our way. Michelle and Kyle are yakking up front and I know Michelle can't see or hear it. So, I say "There's a...there's a..." And I can't think of the word ambulance. Or siren. I can think of no words. Folks, I actually started to point. To someone with her back to me. In the dark. Finally, I say "There's an emergency vehicle behind us!" Michelle pulls over and because she had to pull over we missed our road. "Well," Michelle says, "That's just kind of the way the night is going!" We all have a laugh about that and about how I used the actual vocabulary from the driver's manual (Kyle just took his MN test) and then have a conversation in which we discuss the following two questions: 1) Have you ever been in a situation where you were sure you were going to die? and 2) What's the greatest pain you've ever been in.

Michelle drops us off, almost runs Kyle over, and I get into my car. I wish I was making this up: I start my car, lift my foot off the clutch, and my shoe lace has looped around my clutch, essentially attaching my foot to my clutch.

So it's enough, already, with the brushes with death and the annoyances and the "dude, really!??!?"s of the night. I'm home safe, I'm going to have some wine (Kyle's fabulous idea from about four hours ago) and eat some popcorn and go to bed.

And, on a serious note, be really happy neither I nor anyone I know was in one of the three ambulances I saw tonight with their sirens on.

Puuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

So, I spent some time with Yoga Molly tonight after about a month of not being in contact with her. We got together in mid-January, before she jet-setted to Peru, and since she got back about two weeks ago, our paths have not crossed.

Molly makes my soul happy. I have a lot of friends who make my soul happy. And in these times where there are a lot of people trying to break me down (including myself)--well, it's just darn good that I have Soul Happiness.

Cleaning up the Hermitage (and the longest story about tampons I've ever told)

I'm having company today. I think. It's still somewhat up-in-the-air, as these things often are. But, last night and today I've been cleaning my house. It occurred to me while I was scrubbing my toilet on my hands and knees (don't all profound thoughts happen around this time?) that the last time anyone was in my house except for my parents was back in August at the Social Reincarnation Soiree. That was a bit over five months ago.

The thought first came to mind last night when I was reorganizing the bathroom off of my bedroom. I just got a nifty cabinet from my parents because they're redoing their bathroom, so I was filling it with standard bathroom fare. I put a container of tampons on one of the shelves and then paused. Should I put them there? Just out in the open for anyone to look at? Then I thought, "who will see them?" I tried to remember the last time anyone but me was in my bathroom. Then I thought about who, since I moved in, had ever been in that bathroom. And I decided to keep them there because anyone who makes it that far into my 'inner sanctum' knows about tampons and probably knows me well enough to not be bothered. At least I hope so.

I kind of wonder why I'm so protective of my space. It isn't that I don't have friends, or that I'm not sociable. I just always end up going over to other people's places or out to restaurants/events. I never invite anyone over, and of course no one is ever "hey, let's go to your place!" Maybe it should be another new year's resolution to open up my house a little bit to the people I'm close to. I have no idea why I'm so afraid to have people over. And not even "people"--just "person." Anyone who doesn't walk on four legs. Very odd. I am a very odd girl.

But, back to cleaning. Because today someone is coming into the hermitage. I think.

Okay, enough with the "_____ looks."

No, that's not an obscenity blank...it's a fill in, with "concerned" or "knowing" or "amused."

People have been exchanging looks with one another about me, directly in front of me, for several weeks now. Whether it's about my future career as a funeral director or about this man that I'm sort of-kind of-maybe-almost-sort of seeing, the looks are flying. I'm done with the looks.

Friend Jenn said yesterday while we were at lunch that it's pretty rude for my friends to be exchanging looks right in front of me; she said if they were concerned that they should be verbal about it. "Use your words", right? I don't think it's rude, I guess...I know that looks of concern are more about the concern than the look, but that doesn't stop me from being somewhat aggravated. I mean, do they think that I'm not seeing the look? I am. And, well, it's a slow news day so I thought I'd share my annoyance.

That is all.

Ho Ho and Merry Merry

Merry Christmas, my friends. It's been yet another interesting year, one I'll comment more on my annual New Year's Eve post in a few days. I've been learning a lot about different ways to celebrate Christmas that don't always involve blood relatives. Mine still do, and though I did celebrate today with some of them, my "real" Christmas happens on Christmas Eve with my parents and Gatsby. Though we spent most of the fall talking about how we needed to cut back and not spend as much on Christmas, we still ate lobster to bursting and started the evening by sharing a bottle of Dom Perignon. We guard our traditions even in the face of extreme budget constraints.

I wish you all the happiness you could ask for in the closing days of 2008. I hope that you spend time with people you love, be they family or friends or strangers who warm your heart. I hope that Santa brings you everything you need and a few things you want. I hope that when you go to bed tonight you do so fully imbued with the magic of Christmas and the love, faith, and joy that it entails.

"Darling I don't know why I go to extremes"

Last weekend I was busy literally every minute. I think I slept for about twelve hours over the three nights. I couldn't believe how much activity I packed into a Friday-Sunday timeframe. I wanted more than anything to have a few hours to myself, yet I couldn't tear myself away from any of the splendid things I did. Saw the play, went to a party, shopped for tailgating, tailgated, watched the Packers, and came home so collapsed I couldn't even go to the Amazing Poetess Jude Nutter's poetry reading at the Loft on Sunday night. Unprecedented.

This weekend: nothing. Zero. No plans. No yoga, because I'm not allowed to go for two weeks. (Well, a week from this past Monday...so really I can go back on the 24th, so it's only 11 days...which sort of feels like forever right now, but I guess I'll maybe do okay, I hope.) Seems I've chaturanga-ed my way into a shoulder injury. No parties. No games. No obligations. No readings, dates, meetings, or responsibilities of any kind. Hmmm.

I'm a little nervous for this weekend. There was a time when I would cancel plans to be able to spend a full weekend by myself. But now I'm so spoiled with my new friends and non-stop activity that, well, I've gotten used to being sociable. After all, the last three weekends I've spent less time in St. Paul than I have in my own home.

The weekend should prove interesting. I have a big stats test on Tuesday, so I can study for that. And maybe watch some Netflix movies I've had since...ahem...July.