A Mantel of White

They've been promising it all day, those weather forecasters relishing the role of doomsayer, announcing it with childlike glee and an unnatural twinkle in their eye, this impending snowstorm that could layer as much as eight inches of snow on our nice dry ground. "Punishing winds," they warn, "hazardous roads" and "blizzard conditions" will prevail, so be ready. I've been out and about all day- running errands this morning, attending a matinee performance at a local theater this afternoon, stopping for a quick dinner before Jim went off to a rehearsal - and though there were no visible snowflakes, I could feel them hanging over my head, the cloud covered sky thick with cold moisture that seeped over the earth, penetrating even my warmest winter coat.

In the time it took for us to scarf down an Arby's (fast food-a sure sign of an overly busy schedule) the clouds let loose and snow started falling, leaving a light coating on the pavement. Luckily, it wasn't yet heavy enough to require brushing off the car. But since I've been home, cranked up the heat, hurried the dogs outside to take care of business before things get too dicey, and changed into my warm fuzzies, it's started to increase in intensity. The grass has disappeared, and so has the pavement, the flakes fat and wet as they fall in the reflection from the floodlight on the garage.

I like snow, when I'm warm and toasty inside. My stereo is playing Josh Groban's new Christmas CD, because the weather outside seems to call for such seasonal songs. I'm about to open a bottle of red wine, because I need something with a little more heft than the icy Chardonnay I generally favor. I have a Netflix I've been hoarding for just such a night, when the big screen TV is mine alone. Dare I say it -I feel content - a welcome change from the general malaise of the past few weeks.

The week ahead will be fast and furious. I'm trying to squeeze in a two week's worth of work, in preparation for leaving town on Saturday. I have to get in all my Christmas visits, get the dogs haircuts and baths, make sure my mom is stocked up on groceries and all her medications before I go, wrap some presents, send out the Christmas cards...

Oh, stop, I'm ruining my own mood already.

For the moment, let me just have a little peace and quiet, while the snow falls gently and silently onto the ground.

Distancing Myself

Although the poet says "April is the cruelest month," in my experience, December bears that distinction. Every year it becomes harder for me to bear the expectations, the obligations, the commercialization, the frenzy that surrounds the holidays occurring in this last month of the year. In my childhood, I adored Christmas - especially the tree. I was enthralled by the concept of bringing a real tree into the house! My dad and grandfather struggling to straighten it in the red metal stand, my mother and grandmother shouting directions - "over this way!" "No, it's leaning forward!" "to the right a little more!" - until finally it was secured, and we could hang the ornaments. Each one of my favorites would could out of a little nest in it's plastic container, and I could carefully hook the skinny metal wire over the tree branch. Once the ornaments were hung, the multi-colored lights casting a rosy glow over the room, I would get my favorite book and blanket, curl up under the tree, and read until bedtime. Of course, the food was wonderful at Christmas time. My grandmother, a true Southern cook, always filled the house with smells of pies and cakes, baked ham, roasted turkey with her incomparable homemade cornbread stuffing...it's no wonder I had to buy my clothes in the the "Chubby" department. My childhood Christmas' were idyllic - at least in retrospect. I wonder if the adults in my family felt as harried and cynical about the season then as I feel about it now. I hope not - I like to believe in the image of a simpler time, when life was less driven by consumerism and greed. I blame my husband for the way my feelings about December have changed - or at least, my husband's family. My in-laws were two of the most difficult people I have ever met. They were argumentative, pessimistic, and generally joyless. Yet they had this "thing" about holidays - the family was supposed to be together, even if "the family" was fractured, dysfunctional, and miserable. I rarely enjoyed Christmas - or any holiday for that matter - after I met Jim. Even though they are no longer in the picture - my father in law long dead, and my mother in law lost in her own demented world where holidays no longer exist - the holiday season is fraught with too many unvoiced obligations and expectations. They weigh on my mind and heart, collecting steam like an avalanche, as the days of the month roll by. In recent years, I've been distancing myself from December, backing up to the periphery of the month and peering in at all the hype and hoopla. I procrastinate all the December duties as long as I can, somehow hoping that the spirit will strike me before the stores have sold all the good gifts, and I've let all the postal deadlines pass. I would like to be able to throw myself into the preparations for this season, to have high hopes and glorious expectations. I want more than anything to have one shining moment during these December days when I feel at peace. But, I can't bring myself to step closer, to bridge that distance between me and December. So here I am, on the outside looking in, a wallflower at the December dance. Biding my time 'til it's over.

Seven Things About Me

It's been said that all things happen for a reason~a few minutes ago, Blogger ate the post I'd been stewing over for several days. Truthfully, that post was depressing, and whiny, and probably revealed more about the inner workings of my psyche right now than I should reveal. So, consider yourself saved.

Instead, I will drag myself out of the funk I've been in, and run with the Seven Things About Me meme, which Melissa tagged me for several days ago.

My name should be Annie~ as in Ado Annie, the character from the musical Oklahoma who sings "I'm just a girl who cain't say no." Sadly, the things I'm unable to refuse aren't nearly as much fun as the activity Annie can't resist. Hence, the fact that I'm always too busy for my own good, setting myself up for funks such as the one I'm currently wallowing in.

I am seriously obsessive compulsive about making my bed. If I leave the house with the bed unmade, bad things happen all day long. I've proven this.

My favorite comfort food~is cinnamon toast made with white bread and chocolate flavored Ovaltine (hot). When I awake at that dreaded four-o'clock-in-the-morning time, I just make myself this treat, wrap up in my favorite soft flannel "blannie," and before long I'll be drifted off to sleep.

Please don't throw tomatoes at me for this one, but I hate Christmas music. (Ouch! I said please don't do that!) It seems like a terrible thing for a musician to say, but perhaps its because I have to play it so much, all the time. And when the radio stations start playing "All Christmas Music All the Time" on October 21st - well, suffice it to say, we're on a radio ban here until January 10. My all time most dreaded Christmas song - The Hallelujah Chorus. Only when you've taught it to high school kids for 15 years will you understand what I mean.

However, I love Christmas lights, and people can put those up early if they want - yes, go ahead, you have my permission.

Coffee is serious business at my house. I only make Gevalia coffee at home. I've been using it for years - long before coffee was "cool." It's a Swedish blend, and it's rich and smooth tasting - never bitter. And I like it strong. My favorite coffee shop is a little independent place near my house. It's called First Cup, and it's all organic coffee, along with whole food breakfast and lunch. I will also drink the Cafe Blend at Panera Bread.

My biggest fashion obsession is purses. I have so many purses on the top shelf of my closet that they cascade down on me when I'm trying to extricate one from the pile. I'm mostly drawn to tiny, cute, little purses, and I waste an inordinate amount of time every morning transferring my essential items for the day from one little bag to another.

So, there are seven random facts about me...I left out that I get depressed at Christmas time, but you might have gathered that from my introductory paragraph.

I don't know why, but I do. However, writing this meme has cheered me up considerably.

Thanks for the tag, Melissa :)

Surrounded by Life

Standing on the Edge

having no words of wisdom

to offer

no pithy observations

about life in general

or my own in particular

I'm only stopping by

to assure you,

my gentle reader,

that I have not fallen

from the face of this round earth,

have not succumbed

to the tyranny of obligation

threatening my very existence

have not thrown myself head first

from the nearest bridge

~

but if i did

i hope i would land in

a nest of soft words

delicate phrases to cushion my fall

simple thoughts of joy

expressed with love and attention

by you

my faraway, faceless friends

whose love inspires me

to stand tall

Tah Dah!

Drum roll please.

(clears throat)

Ladies and Gentleman, it is with great pleasure that I announce the completion of NaNoWriMo 2007.

No more waking up in the middle of the night, crawling out of my warm bed and firing up the laptop so I could make my word count for the day.

No more staying up late to write just a little bit more, so I could be ahead of the game come morning.

No more hauling the laptop everywhere just in case I have a few minutes to write in between rehearsals.

You would think I'd be feeling a huge relief, as if a great weight had been lifted.

But, oddly enough, I feel a bit sad. As tough as it's been sometimes to keep the momentum going, to find the time to sit down and get those words on the screen, it's also been very satisfying.

And that's what I like best about this annual writing challenge. I like knowing that I can do it - I can have the discipline, the perserverance, the creativity, to write 50,000 words in 30 days. They're unpolished words, but they are a very good start on telling a story I wanted to tell, on bringing to life an idea that's been kicking around in my head for quite a while.

I had dinner with a former co-worker last night, a young woman I am so fond of. She was my "alter ego" at work for a long time, and we were perfect working partners. I miss her in my office life, but we make it a point to get together every few months and catch up.

She just ran the marathon here in Detroit - the whole 26 miles - in spite of having a strained muslce. Now, I simply cannot fathom having a body that could run for 26 miles - it boggles my mind. The trick, she says, is in good training, and in knowing how to pace yourself. The reward is the pure satisfaction of crossing that finish line, knowing you've set yourself a challenge, worked hard, and completed it.

Sort of like writing 50,000 words in 30 days. When I told her about my own personal writing marathon, she was flabbergasted."I could never do that in a million years," she said, shaking her head.

"Right back at ya," I told her.

We all have areas in life where we excel, things that excite us, motivate us, bring us pleasure. Setting challenges for ourselves in those areas and then succeeding in completing those challenges is what helps us rise above the petty and thankless tasks that often take up so much of our time.

I will definitely sleep better tonight, knowing I've completed one of mine.