Christmas in a Nutshell

True to form, in a variety of lists:

The Best and Worst of Christmas 2007

Best Food:
1. pigeon & green onion starter at the rizty Christmas Eve romantic restaurant
2. Cheese Board from the cheesemonger for christmas eve lunch
3. Proper Nut Roast, not that pseudo-stuffing I made at Thanksgiving

Best Drink:
green & blacks cocoa in my P&P mug

Best Card:
Jennie's retro trees are tied with mom's enigmatic and sentimental note
The 12 days of Christmas as sung by Dirty Bertie get an honorable mention

Most Disappointing:
1. Ruining the wreath cookies
2. Midnight Mass was confusing and long and none of the joyousness celebrating with a thousand people together is supposed to be. It was chaotic, in latin, and sad.

Most surprising:
The presents from Liam's mom (wind up racing snails, lotsa liquor and a whole load of junk food)

Most simply gratifying:
Singing carols as we made our first christmas dinner together

Most nostalgia inducing:
Teaching Liam to play gin rummy on the tiny cards he won in his christmas cracker.

Most homesick moment:
reading tom's letter

Most manic:
The christmas kitten.
I keep wanting to up load a photo of our holiday house guest, Miso the kitten - but she is hideous and wild and wont sit still long enough. She has already broken a lamp, thrown potted plants around - and oh yes, went into heat on Christmas Eve for three excruciating days of mewling and really pitiful displays of discomfort. I think we need to have a chat with her owners.

Most beautiful:
1. The moon on christmas eve
2. our golden tree
3. the little german nativity i bought at market

Best Presents I got:
1. Liam is going to buy me a satchel/briefcase for work - we are going to the fancy tanners to pick one out next week
2. jennie's octopus:


3. black and silver dessert plates from Anna

Best presents I gave:
1. team hooray apparel
2. real dinosaur tooth
3. spongebob candy canes with decals

Best presents I witnessed:
1. Tom gave Liam Rome Total War
2. Liam gave Heidi a kit for growing shitake mushrooms from a block in your cupboard
3. Lisa screened Julie a T-shirt of Cagney and Lacy.


Itineray thus Far

23rd:
Sleep all day
See Darjeeling Limited
Feed poor sick liam
Go to Carol Service at St Giles Cathedral (the cool gothic venue, the rubbish carols)
Watch the Thomas Crown Affair


Christmas Eve:
Have a fight about the loud annoying horny cat
Have a cry (aforementioned)
Have cheeseboard lunch
Have a cuddle
Go to fancy pants dinner
Go for moonlit stroll
Go to weird-ass midnight mass with all of Polish Edinburgh (O Little Town of Bethlehem and It Came Upon a Midnight Clear have different tunes, and we actually sing In the Bleak Midwinter. )


Christmas Day:
Sleep in and canoodle
Blueberry & Chocolate Chip Pancakes
Presents!
Roundrobin phone with Liam's family
Watch Finding Nemo
Get dressed
Make christmas feast (sans roast goose)
Gorge
Play gin
Talk to mi familia on corporate speaker phone
Watch the Family Guy Christmas Special

Boxing Day:
Sleep in (this is a requisite on all my holidays)
Eat scrumptious leftovers and watch worst James Bond film ever (Moonraker. Fucking Roger Moore)
Play with manic kitty
Do mountains of dishes from Xmas Feast
Make wreath cookies (badly)
Watch School of Rock

Today:
Sleep in
Wreath Cookie Breakfast
Buy survival groceries
Tidy
Go see Golden Compass

and there is still a whole week left before I go back to work including the Wii party, new years eve and watching my Planet Earth dvds. joy!

Christmas Calm

As always, I get over things sooner than I think I will. What felt huge and unendurable before, is now at best a dull ache fading to distant memory.

It doesn't hurt that the calm emptiness of this holiday left space - maybe one I was scared of trying to fill - but space to just be in. That Christmas Eve, after dinner we could pause in an empty street and really notice the full moon and how it had that rare ring of light surrounding it. That walking along the glistening cobbles we could hear nothing but the echo of our footsteps in the night. That Christmas held no obligations or bustle or worry or rules or traditions to maintain. That we didnt have to be at anyone's house by three, I didn't even have to get dressed. So instead of plans and party-time, it played host to the simple joys of cuddling with a kitten, watching a favourite movie, sipping cocoa and goofing off. And absolutely nothing else.

Yeah, I missed Grady Christmas. a lot. Yeah, I wish I had had a stocking or someone else did the dishes. I wish I could see my family's faces as they opened their gifts and joke about the day in a constant running commentary. Mostly I just miss being all together and the thought we won't be until september makes me miss the times it was everyone always.

But in all honesty, it was just lovely to make our own little day. And it definitely wasn't 'the worst christmas ever'. Score.

blue stars

i just had a big cry.

i don't know why the holidays still make me emotional. and emotional in that completely incoherent and ridiculous 'i am so wronged. is this all there is to life?' way that is like being 15 again.

maybe its the stress.

i know i shouldn't. i know it's nothing, and no matter what, the things that matter dont change. That no matter what, cuddling on my sofa and even making a travesty of the traditional dinner in my first attempt, will be heartwarming and wonderful. But when things are just right - the moment happens - it is so good, i spend an inordinant amount of time trying to make it happen when i know in my heart it just doesnt work that way.

so i have spent a good week trying to make myself a christmas. one i want to live. one to be proud of. and mostly one that will take my mind off of texas.

now, i can safely say, a holiday in a hot, dry, huge, place like texas is about the least joyous i'll ever know. and a christmas without liam gives me a pang.

but a grady congregation without me always makes me sad. and homesick.

and yes, often annoyed no one calls me back or my parent's don't even send a present. like they are too busy having fun to remember me.

so sometimes it feels like they don't even notice i am gone.

and as ludicrous as i know that is, from far away on my own i can almost convince myself its true and it makes me hurt a little.

so, cue the waterworks and bit of a bridget jones moment. at least it gets it out of my system.

and now, i am cuddled under my aunt monica quilt with our Christmas Cat (more on her later), with hot cocoa, emailing my cousin stephanie and holding on to the important things.

because what really matters is we are safe, we are sound. we are whole and we are well. we are not bleeding, we are not broken. not bumped or bruised. we don't need a doctor and we don't need a hospital. we are all okay, wherever we are. and my heart is full to bursting.

the v is for vapid?

Seeing as I am heading to my first Literature & Education Forum (as in the national coallition of arts organisations, I'm not going to be on the board of any old rubbish now am I?) today, I thought I ought to look appropriately sharp. Pinstipe skirt, black leather boots and a killer red sweater.

And as I go to adjust the casual perfection of my cowelneck while in the loo, I notice a slight tarnish to my otherwise dapper appearance.

I have a massive hickey on my neck.

If that doesn't say 20-something professional, what does?

getting there

I am coming to realise growing up has nothing whatever to do with making sense of the world like I thought, but almost completely to do with making sense of myself.

Of knowing how I am, what I am like and how that effects things can, I am sure, cut down on half my arguments, all of my meaningless frustrations and pretty much all minor troubles such as indegestion/sleeplessness/cranky-spots.

For instance. It is not Liam's fault I come home from the movies and go into a whirlwind of tidying. Nor is it unfathomable he'd be annoyed I am moving all of his stuff. And it would have saved an entire evening discussion if I'd realised I am doing EXACTLY the false cleaning (e.g. stacking up papers in the cornder and shoving mess in a drawer) my dad always did because of my nazi-ish dependency on having a clean kitchen table to come home to.

And if I just knew that was what I was doing and either:
a, talked myself out of it or
b, told him it bothered me and found a way around it,
I could have still had time to watch Rushmore before bed.

The world would be a better place if I was self-aware. Maybe I should get threapy.

mourning the v

As the year comes to a close, we are inevitably thrown into a retrospective of trends, objects and headlines of the year past. And in a moment of self-reflexsive meditation, it occurs to me, my long earned title of V is not so relevent to my postings.

Can you remember the days where I had sex on park benches and hooked up with the crush of my best friend? The time I sort of slept with phil or the topless sleepover with hot scot? Or any the other freak manifestations of my libido really. It's shocking! I have gone from playboy tease to domestic dull-o.

After extensive rumination (read: 30 seconds), I have several excuses to make.

1, most sadly: Now I am in a relatively high profile job - it is not everyone who is on Norwegian television and the BBC Breaking Dawn programme after all - I am more and more hesitent to record in public my personal life and opinions. Especially once I found out it is common practice to google/facebook/friendster/myspace someone before a job interview to suss the candidate here. Can you imagine me ever getting a job with my track record of co-workers, classmates and scandal the last couple of years?

2, even lamer: Frankly (and I already know you don't want to hear this), my sex life is no less interesting now it is monogamous. It is slightly more sober and cogent, which I find leads to much less disappointment when i wake up next to his face and not some retard i don't know their name, but I am straying from my point. Because seeing as there is a distinct possibility you will meet him even if you haven't already, I pretty much don't want to scar anyone's psyche's with outrageous stories. Mostly, i just don't want visions upside-down-sofa-sex on your mind when i introduce you.

okay, two excuses. the only possible third is that my life just is actually boringly full of kittens and christmas cookies (which it is, but it's not boring. really. i promise.)

I am a complete sad-o. (just so you know, it took me a long time to choose a spelling that would not imply an abbreviation for sadomasochist. see? I am trying to be a consciencous blogger.) jesus fucking christ.

Tra la la!

So the party was adorable.

Of course everyone was late so we slow danced to the crooner's christmas album in the candlelight and glow of the tree in the quiet before the storm. I've never felt so cozy.

Then a whole random mix of people poured through the door - and one of those serendipitous random mixes where everyone gets on okay and we all have a lovely time eating far too much (christmas oranges, mince pies and pumpkin cake - oh British) and playing Articulate until the middle of the night.

It makes me feel all fuzzy, and its not just the mulled wine going to my head. I love Christmas. Take away the mountains of presents and the networking parties and the stress and the shopping. The garish and gruesome of obligations and rules and its just downright lovely.

I cannot wait til our Christmas Day of cozy, quiet, sombre celebration for all that there is to be grateful for.

a month ago Roland, the guy who sits across from me at work, announced his wife is pregnant.

today Oisin, the guy next to me, says the same.

in an office of 5, i have severe concerns about my chances of being the next one with an announcement in this epidemic.

contageous childbirth is the modern plague.

christmas bells are ringing...

Christmas is in the air ridiculously early.

Last weekend we went and picked up our Charlie Brown-esque tree from the british equivelent of Home Depot. And then had an arguement about how big a stand we needed and walked it the three miles home through the park singing carols and drinking starbucks gingerbread lattes on the way.

Two nights ago, I had to put on my leather gloves to string the lights because as beautiful as Norwegian Spruce's are, they hurt like a bitch. I was bleeding in places.

Last night, I made the traditional grammy's recipe cookie dough to sit overnight in the fridge. Now my only dilema is do i make the standard version, or cut holes in the middle and put in jolly ranchers to make little stained glass window cookies like i saw in the marks and spencer catalogue?

Can you risk messing with tradition just for the sake of martha stewart craftiness? It worked with the fashioning of a garland from the tree branches we trimmed off (to fit the tiny base we bought), but this may be a step too far.

Tomorrow is wreath cookies and present wrapping because sunday is our 'welcome to the holiday season' party which I am sure will be utterly memorable in a plethora of ways. Not only because i have never mulled wine before.

And I know it's early, but I am excited. And I am secretly hoping all this running about now, means i can spend the next month basking in the glow of my gold beribboned tree and doing jack shit for the holiday season except drinking port and wishing bing crosby was on tv.