Christmas started off sort of rocky. The coffee pot broke down and Southwest (no change fees my ass) wants $600 to change 2 plane reservations made a week ago from 9 p.m. to 2:30 p.m. THE SAME DAY. No change fees but change gouging.
On an up note, the sun is out, Bernie is napping at my feet and my son and granddaughter will be here tomorrow -- at 11:30 p.m. thanks again Southwest. My house no longer looks like a failed bomb shelter. It's time for me to do my part and put it back together.
I've got some time off this week to gather my thoughts and re-cement my center. I have more time off next week for surgery and a long, long list of stay still, long overdue work and fun. I'm going to sort through two years worth of paperwork. I'm going to watch Treme so I can further dream about moving to New Orleans and opening a bookstore/cafe. (Tallulah come with me dear. We can be our own bosses and set our own customer standards.)
I can be still enough to read books again, and maybe write a note or two. Maybe get rides out to movies so when the Oscars roll around I'll have seen more than 1 nominee (especially now that there's ten) Start a quilt. Blog more.
Flash******More people know the words to Gilligan's Island than they do the Star Spangled Banner.
There were a few really highs this year among the daily cobblestones. The trip to NOLA for the Voodoo Festival with some great, great people and music offset the broken ankle in the spring which totally torpedoed my mental and physical health.
The Ryan Adams concert was energizing and restorative. My niece had her third son. I got to see my dear ex brother in law after at least a ten year absence. I found a contractor who was a wizard. I got central air.
We closed a Baltimore store and displaced some good friends. I lost my irreverent assistant manager. Work became more strained. I couldn't stop gaining weight and couldn't exercise to stop it. My wanderlusty cat parlayed his curiosity into a $400 emergency room visit.
My daughter's beloved car got totaled. And probably the worst, my son was locked out of his home after returning from Afghanistan, his marriage broke up and he faces a vicious custody battle of which nothing good will come out of. He didn't see his daughter for two months and had a restraining order filed against him that stated she was terrified of him.
But I went to a holiday party where I saw a friend who lost her son at age 22 and I'm sure she'd give anything to be able to bail him out of financial difficulty and support him through heartbreaking domestic woes. I know she'd trade with me in an instant not to see a grandchild for 8 months rather than never.
So hard it is to remember the miracles we never see. That a cancer didn't take a loved one. That you didn't lose a job, or a house. That the tree across the street didn't crash down upon your house. Planes stayed in the sky, cars didn't cross the line and hit you, you weren't born into a home of abuse or abject poverty. That your eyes still see and your fingers still move.
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