Still life

Tonight, New Year's Eve 2007, I am sleeping in the room I slept in growing up. It's now my dad's office, but my feet look right at home.

525,600 minutes

How do you measure a year?

Like the song says (and you know this if you know the musical "Rent") there are 525,600 minutes in a year. But we all tend to measure time in different ways, at different times.

Looking back at 2007, I think I will measure it by ...

Hugs
Water fights
Curtain calls
Cinammon rolls
Tears
Snowstorms
Unexpected kisses
Movies
Naps
Get-ups
Belly laughs
Pedicures
Bruises
Connections
Tamales
Coffee
Ninjas
Successes
Failures
Arguments
Miunderstandings
Opportunities
Ninth-grade nights

No doubt there are more, units of measure I can't recall now. But as I sit here, looking out at the possibilities of 2008, I am hopeful and a little bit scared. And yet, that's not gonna stop me from plunging headlong into what may be. 2007 was good to me, and I hope it was to you, too. So raise a glass, or a coffee cup, or a chocolate chip muffin, and together let's bid 2007 adieu as we welcome 2008 and everything it has to offer.

May we look back in 527,040 minutes (2008's a leap year) in gratitude for one another, joy for having shared another year together, and anticipation of what comes next. Salud!

One more get-up

That's all that's left - one more get-up. One more time the alarm will ring before I head for Disney World. Granted, I don't leave until Tuesday, but there's only one ore day when I have to be somewhere on schedule, one more time I have to march to the beat of someone else's drummer.

Then, I'm in vacation mode. For 12 blissful days. Vacation mode.

It's a little scary, because it means a full week with people with whom I share DNA, and these people are really quite wacky. But I will rise to the occasion, I will not let them get to me, and I will have fun. How could I not have fun - I'll be in the happiest place on earth!

Christmas Wishes

It's Christmas. Today was full of memories, old and new. I can't remember the last time I was awake at dawn surrounded by children eagerly anticipating the discovery of what Santa left for them. Along with celebrating with the kids, and acting like one myself, I enjoyed lots of hugs, cinammon rolls, my favorite cookies that I haven't had since Mom died (one of my sisters found the recipe) and a feud-free holiday.

And so, in keeping with the joy of the day, I thought I would share with you my Christmas wishes.

May you know that you are loved, that your friendship brightens my days and makes me smile. May you grow to love me more and love me, anyway, as I am sure to grow in love for you.

May I be a blessing to your life, and may you know you are a blessing in mine.

May you be fulfilled in your work, in your relationships, and in life.

May optimism outweigh pessimism. May laughter outweigh tears. May you find beatiful shoes on sale, in your size.

But most of all, may hugs be abundant, kisses be meaningful, support be felt, imagination be nourished, your soul be fed and your heart be full.

Merry Christmas. May the hope of this season live within you throughout the coming year.

What you give

Kelly and I went shopping today. At Woodfield Mall in Schaumburg. It was not an original idea. Everyone else in the Chicago suburbs seemed to have the same idea.

It was so crazy, I didn't bother to try and find a parking place. I valeted it. Yes, I turned my keys over to a stranger. It was worth the $6 plus tip.

We ate at Cheesecake Factory (sheer ambrosia, lemme tell ya) and ventured out into the mall. And everywhere we went, I felt like Kelly and I were somehow able to bring joy to an otherwise stressful night in retail. Employees and fellow shoppers alike responded to us. The guy shopping in Eddie Bauer let me touch his hair. The girl in Hot Topic could not believe that I asked her how she was doing. And the entire staff of The Body Shop seemed unwilling to let us shop elsewhere.

And it occurred to me, it costs us nothing to relate to one another. To look each other in the eye. To smile instead of scowl. And at the end of the night, aching bodies and all, we felt like we had gotten something other than bags of gifts. We got back every smile, every happy greeting, every laid-back moment we gave. It was magical.

Really. Just ask the valet. I think he liked being both tipped AND hugged.

A Holiday Haiku

Christmas almost here
but rain is in the forecast
No white Chrismas. Poop.

One week

One week from today is Christmas, and I haven't even really started shopping. I don't think I'm going to. Does that make me a Grinch, or worse yet, Scrooge? I don't think so. Not when you consider Christmas 2006.

A year ago, I hadn't yet started working. It had been over a year since I had a full-time job. I had been hired to do the job I currently hold (yay!) but I was not slated to start until January 8. Needless to say, the money was tight. So I made most of my gifts. It was the most enjoyable, meaningful, and heartfelt Christmas in memory.

Because of that experience, my entire approach has changed. I am not caught up in the incessant need to buy something for everyone I've ever met. Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed picking things up here and there for the people I love, but I haven't been inside a mall since early November. (I will, however, be going on Saturday. Wanna come along?) I want to enjoy the magic; I do not want to purchase it.

That realization seemed to wake the Ghost of Christmas Past. At Christmastime with Christopher, the season was greeted with a list. Now, I never felt I had to fulfill the list, but the list was daunting. The items stayed on his list, year after year, until they were received. A computer. A video game system. Oh, there were smaller items, too, and many of them. I remember thinking it was a good thing we didn't have children, because I was already buying for a really big one.

Our final year together, Christmas 2005, I had recently been let go from my job. And still, I had the list. Between Christmas and his birthday (in January) I purchased every item on that list. Finally, I had fulfilled his every wish.

Clearly, that left him with no reason to stay.

So I approach Christmas with this strange amalgam of melancholy, nostalgia and fear. But there is also the deep feeling of peace that comes from knowing that everyone I love wants only one thing from me this Christmas ... my time. It is enough for the people in my life to have me in their midst. Anything more is simply a beautifully-wrapped bonus.

The long way home

Snow. And more snow. And even more snow.

I spent Saturday at Dale's making tamales. And by "Saturday," I do mean all day Saturday. Pork shoulder, braised in this incredible sauce ... the house smelled completely unbelievable. Dale soaked the corn husks, heated the banana leaves, mixed the masa ... he did allow me to do the dishes, shred the pork and tie some of the tamales.

And they were delicious. Combined with the roasted corn & poblano soup, it was the perfect meal.

But all day long, and well into the night, it snowed. Liesje brought her daughter Rachael over, and she and I went sledding, and had sword fights with icicles. No, I don't care that I'm not a nine-year-old girl; you're never too old to play in the snow. At a little after midnight, I decided to head for home. The weather had eased, there was no more snow falling and the roads were clear. So I headed south.

All was fine until I turned left at Whiskey Corners in Richmond. And then, the snow began again in full force. I couldn't see much at all - the road was white and the air was white and all my headlights seemed to illuminate was the snow. Whenever it seemed to get better, it lasted only a few moments before it all turned white again. I thought to myself, "I have got to get out of this. I have got to pull over and wait it out."

Thankfully, I was only a few miles away from the Original Margaret Rathunde. It was 1:30 a.m., but I knew if I called, I would be welcomed at Christopher's mother's house. It took about a half hour to get to her home in Antioch, and I was finally safe. When I got out of the car, I hurt all over because I'd been so tense the entire drive. It felt so good to be able to relax.

The house was quiet, so I tucked myself into the couch and slept until morning. When I woke up, I felt so completely overwhelmed by the events of the previous night. I was frightened and in a potentially dangerous situation, and because someone I love lives along the way, I had a port in the storm. And because of that, I am now home, warm, safe and happy. And from my vantage point in the penthouse in Arlington Heights, the snow doesn't look nearly as intimidating as it was in the wee hours of the morning.

Love the spuds

Sure, I went to karaoke tonight. Amber was here, so of course I went. But frankly, it's all about the potato pancakes.

Kelly works at Harry's in Lake Geneva, where Louie makes potato pancakes. And Louie loves me, ergo I just ate potato pancakes. I am in my happy place. And tomorrow, I get tamales a'la Dale ... it's a very food weekend.

So, anyway, I went to karaoke. Way fun. I sang one of Amber's songs - "Who Knew" by Pink. About halfway through the first verse, I started really hearing the lyrics.

"I took your words, and I believed
In everything you said to me
Yeah huh, that's right"

It became a very angry song.

"If someone said three years from now, you'd be long gone
I'd stand up and punch them out, cause they're all wrong
I know better, cause you said forever
and ever ...
who knew?"

It was fun. It was cathartic. I hope next time I sing it, I know it a little better.

Anyhoo, it was a very fun evening with not a lot of singers but a lot of great songs. Angel, Cheryl, Amber, Kelly and I were pretty much the entire rotation (and yes, I'm conspicuously leaving out the creepy guy.) We sang lots of new stuff, a couple of Christmas songs (yay, Kelly!) and Joanne even whipped of a perfect rendition of "Tequila."

But now, I'm tired, and I have to be at Dale's early tomorrow for TamaleFest II, Electric Boogaloo. So, until next time, Gentle Reader, good night. (Wait, there are more potato pancakes in the kitchen ...)

The countdown

Only nine more get-ups until I go to Disney World!

I leave on January 1.

I have one more get-up this week, five next week, and three the week of Christmas. Then it's me, the warmth of Orlando, (did I mention that right now it's 72 degrees there?) and the magic of Disney.

I was telling one of my co-workers about my trip, and I told her that it's been almost two years since I've been to the House of Mouse. That's the longest I've gone without a trip to Disney in my adult life. This is also the longest I've ever been single.

To which Mary Jo said, "Well, you have the mouse for that. And really, there's only room for one rat in your life right?"

I'm still laughing

At any rate, only nine more get-ups. What do you want me to bring you?

Christmas Wrapping

Do you know the song? It's one of the few Christmas songs that Christopher actually enjoyed - circa 1981, by The Waitresses. I love the song - it's just very playful.

So imagine how much it tickled me when my favorite ex-wife-in-law (that would be Elaina, Christopher's first wife) called and left me a message that went something like this:

I just heard a little Christmas song that reminded me of you, I don't know if you're familiar with it - Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses? Well, it made me think of you and then it made me chuckle so I had to call. What if you there's this fabulous guy who just happens to hold dual citizenship in some fabulous country where you can travel all year long ... and you meet, over the cranberry sauce.

I saved the message. It makes me smile. Because, hey, if it's good enough for an 80's Christmas tune, it's good enough for me.

So deck those halls, trim those trees
Raise up cups of Christmas cheer,
I just need to catch my breath,
Christmas by myself this year
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
Couldn't miss this one this year!

The magic

I have always known that December holds magic. As a child, there was the magic of Dad's voice, singing "We Need a Little Christmas" in his booming bass, a signal that it was time to decorate the house. We'd get out the ceramic Santa boots, the ornaments that have been around forever, the garland and penguin ornaments that went around the wagon wheel that hung over the fireplace, and the old paper mache nativity set complete with Mary's chipped nose. We used to drive Mom crazy with the nativity - some years, Mary had twins ... or we'd sneak other animals into the creche, like a bunny, or an owl, or a dog, or all three.

The magic of church during December always gave me chills. Lighting the Advent wreath, singing carols ... I have such memories of standing in "our" pew together as a family, singing in near-perfect four-part harmony.

Christmas Eve holds the most magic, for me. It's my favorite day of the entire year. When I was a teenager, it was the one night of the entire year that I felt beautiful - it was as if the night took over and I became someone else. My sisters and I would spend hours getting ready for church - a long bath, curlers in our hair, a new dress courtesy of Grandma Streede, new pajamas before bed (the one gift we could open on Christmas Eve, from Dad.) It was simply magic.

And today, that magic is still alive. My neighborhood is covered in a a sheet of ice, but from my seat in downtown Arlington Heights everything looks llike it's covered in sugar ... and I've watched several people magically fall on their fannies walking down the sidewalk!

It's Christmastime in the city, and it's magical.

I've learned ...

• family has nothing to do with blood
• some people are dependable, some are not, and it's important to know the difference
• Kelly is my person, and it's supposed to be that way
• love expands like a rubber band; the further away you go, the stronger you feel it
• that first sip of coffee is my favorite moment of almost every day
• I can still hurt for the people who have hurt me beyond description
• a genuine smile is much more beautiful than a phony one
• people who tell you "God only gives you what you can handle" truly deserve a kick in the ass
• I can get past it, but I may never be over it
• low self esteem and the need for someone else to make you happy often go hand in hand
• the power to hurt deeply is part of the package deal of loving deeply
• a dog's wet nose in the palm of your hand can cure almost anything
• to love is to risk honesty
• regrets are a waste of time
• sometimes, you have to let go
• trust is easily given, easily broken, and difficult to regain
• yes is more fun than no

One big flake

Yesterday at about 5 p.m., the snow began to fall. It's winter in Chicagoland, ladies and gentlemen. My drive home was interesting, to say the least. Not bad, just long. People forget how to drive, I think, when it snows.

And it kept falling.

And falling.

At about 9 p.m., I put on my old boots (the same ones I've had since college, the ones I wore when Mike and I walked to the video store through about a foot of fresh snow, the ones that made me realize that "waterproof" doesn't count if the snow is higher than the top of your boots) and went for a walk.

It was so quiet, as if the fresh coating of snow insulated my neighborhood. The only sounds I heard were my footsteps and the faraway scrape of the snowplow. I stopped walking, tilted my head back and caught snowflakes on my tongue.

I stopped at the park and sat on the swings for a couple of minutes, swaying back and forth in the moonlight as the snow fell all around me. It was beautiful, and peaceful.

Soon, it was time to head home. I walked slowly down the middle of the street, enjoying the sound of my footsteps in the new-fallen snow. I giggled to myself - a grown woman, wandering the streets of Arlington Heights alone on a snowy night, catching snowflakes on her tongue, playing at the playground. My inner child smiled, and went inside for a cup of cocoa. My inner adult loved the fact that it had Rumpleminze in it.

The rest of the weekend

After the birthday bash on Friday night, I honestly felt like I might be partied out ... but I drove to Wisconsin, anyway, for Misfits' Thanksgiving.

The drive was interesting. I think I got out of the house just in time to miss the worst of the storm. You know, the part with the ice. I got to Amber's and spent the rest of the day warm and happy that I wasn't still on the road.

As the misfits gathered around the table, it seemed as though we all felt truly thankful. Brought together by nothing more than a feeling of acceptance for one another, we feasted on ham and side dishes that made our bellies nearly explode. Looking around the table, I felt a surge of joy. There was Amber, beaming from within a home filled with love. Liz, who had travelled the furthest to connect with her family. Kelly and Kevin, the unofficial parents of the group, and Drew, Aubri and Kristofer, who kept it interesting. Drew's friend Chris, who towers over us but seems to want to blend in. Aimee and Jason, an eclectic couple if ever there was one. The combination of people made for conversation, laughter and song.

By the way, the acoustics in Amber's great room are really quite something!

We played games, drank cocoa, relaxed and just enjoyed one another's company. When it was past time to head for bed, none of us were ready. But we were content to have shared a thankful day together.

Sunday brought me to the traditional Rathunde family un-Thanksgiving. It was weird. It was tense. It was small, as my ex chose not to attend. It was so good to see Marge, and Buzz and Terra, and Jack, Dianna and their kids ... it was good to be there, together as a family, and yet it was sad, because the family that once was just isn't there anymore.

That's life, of course. We grow, we change, we make choices and live with the consequences. And with a little luck, we don't have to do it alone.

One singular sensation, with vegetation

My baby niece turned one yesterday.

She is one full year of joy, giggles and mayhem. When she (along with Mom & Dad, aka Rae & Mike) was here just two weeks ago, she was just starting to get the hang of walking, doing that whole Franken-baby thing where every step threatens to cause butt and floor to meet. But not anymore - do not get in this kid's way, because she will take you down.

And the giggle. The kid giggles like she's up to something, all the time. Clearly, she gets this from her father's side.

We had set aside this day to celebrate Kaylee's birthday and put up and decorate my Christmas tree. In the morning, we had cinammon rolls and coffee, and then I baked Kaylee's second 1st birthday cake. This one was red velvet with whipped cream frosting. And I sang to Kaylee. "One," from the musical A Chorus Line. She likes it when I sing to her. I think it's because she remembers my voice from in the womb. This precious bundle is a singular sensation.

The night before, Mike had been an angel and helped me go through my decorations and organize my storage unit. Now it was time to put up the tree. Would've been an easy task, if only I'd remembered where the stand was. Nowhere to be found. Thankfully, the friendly folks at Ace down the street had a replacement. Did you know they made replacement stands for artificial trees? I didn't. It made me happy.

Speaking of angels, I have one atop my tree. It was made by the Rice family while they were visiting with my CharlieDad and the brothers and sister. The wings were traced from Kaylee's hands, the design is Mike's inimitable artwork, and the painting was done by the whole crew. The paint itself belonged to my SueMom, Mike's mother and the woman who served as a surrogate mom to me through college and beyond. She's been gone now for several Christmases, but she's a big part of my tree. I have ornaments made by her that bring me a special joy, and now an angel, painted with her supplies. She looks perfect atop my tree. She represents the love of my extended family.

Cute Brian came over, and we celebrated the birthday. Kaylee celebrated by playing with her cake. She was very good at it, and seemed to especially enjoy the slippery feeling of whipped cream frosting beneath her feet. To say the least, a bath was taken and laundry was done. Red velevet cake stains.

Kaylee wound down and went to sleep, leaving four old friends to decorate the tree. As the ornaments were hung - no two rocking horses too close to each other, and please don't put the crystal snowflakes all together, either - I was a bit overcome by the love. There was so much of it! We talked about each of the ornaments - the one of cafe au lait and begneit from New Orleans, a memory of Spring Break 1997, Corky the Snowman, which Sue made from a champagne cork, the ceramic Snoopy I received the year Rae was born.

We made new memories. Oh, don't get me wrong - I cried. You bet your ass I cried. Here I was with the three people who knew me best in the days BC (Before Christopher,) and I was being reminded that who I am has always been a pretty amazing person. "You're the youngest of all of us," Mike said at one point during the night. Maybe not chronologically, but in some ways, I think he's right.

Amber, Liz, Kelly and the kids were going to come up, but by the time they were on their way, my energy level was on it's way out, so I hope they don't mind that I told them not to make the trek. As Mike said this morning, it gives us something to look forward to next time.

I miss them already. My home seems empty without them, but somehow my heart seems full.