Oh, Christmas Tree

Our Christmas tree isn’t the fanciest I have ever seen. I have seen trees that spin, play songs, and hang upside down. Our tree is crooked. It is too narrow. The boughs are sparse and cheaply made.

Our Christmas tree isn’t the prettiest I have ever seen. I have seen trees festooned with glorious, sparkling ornaments and lights that twinkle so perfectly that it all but takes your breath away. Our tree is quite empty. There are pockets of space in the front and the back has few, if any, ornaments.

Our Christmas tree isn’t the tallest I have ever seen. I have seen trees so tall they seem a never-ending fountain of light, percolating dreams and wishes. Our tree is short. At just under 6 feet, I can just stretch high enough to put on the star. The star is too heavy for our cheap, little tree so it frequently topples over and I use physics to keep from toppling to the ground.

No, our tree isn’t the fanciest, or prettiest, or tallest I have ever seen. Our tree is crooked, narrow, cheap, bare, and short. Our tree is a really bad blind date.

Until you get to know him.

You see, something happens to our tree after the first couple of ornaments. He begins to speak and suddenly takes on a beautiful glow. He grabs me and tells me a story and after it is over, I can’t help but love him. I’m a sucker for a good tale, and he gets me every year.

Our tree recounts the history of two people who, while dating, loved to visit museums. Their first date, in fact, was at LACMA.

She is creative, flighty, and thinks elephants are brilliant.

He is quiet, analytical, and a man of science.

She loves books.

He loves to play golf.

They live in California.

A couple of years go by, and they decide to get married.

They celebrate their first Christmas.

She is getting ready for law school and he is straightening his tie for work when the first plane crashes into the World Trade Center.

They have one son.

Then, another.

Here the story stops, because that’s as far as they’ve gone. Don’t you want to hear more? I do.

Each delicate, glass ornament captures a moment in our life. Not every moment is represented in our little tree but, hey, these ornaments don’t come cheap. We have time to add them as we can, so the Mr. reminds me.

It’s funny. Of all the ornaments we own, only one did I purchase on a whim. Every other ornament, including those we received as gifts, have a special memory behind it. As Mikey handed me the ornaments, this “no memory” ornament slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground with a crash. The irony did not escape me. Or, at least it didn’t escape me an hour later after I had cooled down. It’s as if the little ornament couldn’t handle the guilt of it’s own insincerity.

Our tree isn’t perfect and doesn’t look exactly how I wish it would, but that’s ok. I imagine one day it will be fancy, pretty, tall and perfect. When that happens we’ll know we lived a long and full life and our ornaments will soon find new homes sprinkled among the crooked, narrow, cheap, bare, and short trees of our children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.

Provided we don’t drop any more.

Favorite Moment

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*Each Friday I try to post an essay and picture of my favorite moment of the week. If the week sucked beyond all comprehension, I might post my favorite "worst moment" of the week. Someway, somehow, you're getting my favorite moment.

Sometimes life is very busy and you get overwhelmed. Adults know this, and deal with the chaos accordingly. Friends, I’m a whiny, little 3-year old.

In the last two weeks, I have attended two baby showers (one of which I hosted), one rehearsal dinner, one wedding, one post-wedding brunch, two birthday parties, 6 doctor appointments for the boys, and hosted Thanksgiving. I also had a birthday, but it sucked so magnificently that it doesn’t even warrant an honorable mention on my “Holy Crap, I’ve Been Busy!” list. In between all of this I worked on Paper Soufflé and wrote a few pieces for clients. So, yeah, I’ve been feeling over scheduled, unappreciated, and really, really bitchy.

Did I mention I’m a whiny, little 3-year old?

Well, recently an act of kindness from across the country restored my faith in humanity. When I became pregnant with Nico both my best friend and my sister-in-law were struggling to get pregnant. I felt guilty talking about anything pregnancy related and, understandably, I doubted they wanted to hear me complain about my morning sickness. So, I went and did something crazy: I joined an online group for pregnant women due in February 2007. We were a large group of 50+ women who quickly bonded over cravings, mood swings, and all things baby. Fast-forward 18 months later and only a tight knit group of 10 remain. Since the babies will soon celebrate their first Christmas, we decided to do a small ornament exchange. I received my package on Monday from the lovely Colleen, and I am touched beyond words.

Not only did she include a glass ornament for Nico knowing that I collect glass ornaments, she also remembered that big brother Mikey is obsessed with Mickey Mouse. What do you think I found, carefully wrapped up and sitting snuggly next to Nico’s ornament? That’s right. Nothing less than a Micky Mouse ornament, personalized by Colleen herself for Mickey’s biggest fan.

The fact that someone whom I have never met in person remembered that my oldest loves Mickey Mouse and was generous enough to include him in the ornament exchange was so very kind. And what did Mikey think of his very own Mickey Mouse ornament? I think I can comfortably say he was over the moon with excitement.

Oh, yeah.

It's on like Donkey Kong.

Dear Target,

Screw you, too.

We've been friends for a long time. I loved you when you were Gemco, and if that doesn't speak of my loyalty I don't know what does. But, lately you've been letting me down.

Take today as a prime example. Last week I dutifully entered your red den of commercialism looking for wrapping paper. This wrapping paper had to wrap presents for my brother-in-law's 40th birthday and my own brother's wedding. I didn't like much of what I saw (we'll talk about your selection later), but decided on a metallic ring pattern against a white background. I also found some brown ribbon that complemented nicely the copper in the paper. I gave you my money and went home to wrap brother-in-law's one present. I used ribbon from my own collection for the birthday present, choosing to save your brown ribbon for my brother's three wedding presents.

Well, low and behold today I sit down to wrap my brother's three measly, little presents and guess who runs out of paper after wrapping only one present? Now, I'm not a mathematician, but if I wrapped brother-in-law's present last week, and one of my brother's presents this week that means the wrapping paper lasted for all of two presents. What the Hell is that?! I was in some sort of denial at first, quickly unwrapping the first present to see if there was a more efficient way to wrap all three presents without having to go out and buy more paper. But, alas, no amount of inventive geometry could hide the fact that I had to go buy more wrapping paper because you are a cheap bastard. And so I did.

And you know what?

By God, if I take the time, with a migraine, to pack up my two sniffling boys and head over to buy more wrapping paper you could at least have the decency to have said wrapping paper in stock! OK, fine. Popular paper is frequently out of stock. Sure, it happens. But how do you explain the 17 rolls of ugly you have in its place? Pink and purple hearts with swirls?! Really? That's the best you can do? Unacceptable, Target. Unacceptable.

Having no choice but to find something that worked, I settled on a roll of ecru paper. Ecru, which we all know is code for "cream with way too much yellow in it." Ecru, which is nowhere to be found in my original wrapping paper selection. Ecru, Target. Ecru.

My hands were tied. I had to start combining papers, like some color-blind MacGyver, in hopes of having something presentable to give to my brother and his new wife. You might be wondering, Target, why I didn't just use the new roll to wrap all three presents. I would have, but your paper is so extraordinarily cheap and thin it kept tearing on the corners of my packages (the ones apparently made of razor blades) leaving me with just enough paper to wrap everything. Thanks, Target. You manged to be both cheap and ugly. Way to go. Behold Exhibit A:

(I added ecru bands around the other packages to keep the fabulousness consistent)

"Well," I thought, "at least I have the brown ribbon!"

Well played, Target. Well played.

Why did I think a three inch spool would contain more than a yard of ribbon? You think I would have learned from the wrapping paper debacle, but no. I remain an optimist to the end. I have to hand it to you, at least you're consistent. One roll = two presents. One spool = two presents. Beautiful math, but you still suck.

So there I was, searching the house for a way to multiple ribbon like loaves and fishes except, you know, I'm not Jesus so I can't perform miracles. Twenty minutes later, I decided what the brown, silver, copper, white, and ecru presents needed was a little gold tulle. I mean, how obvious! Doesn't that sound lovely? I didn't think so. At least the lighting today was poor enough that in this picture it actually looks like it all matches. It doesn't. Behold Exhibit B:

Yeah, it doesn't look that bad in the picture. We're dealing with a case of "good from afar, but far from good." I blame you entirely, Target. If these presents look good, you get none of the credit.

Frankly (you know I'm upset when I start sentences with adverbs), you're getting cocky. I think all this Isaac Mizrahi, Thomas O'Brien, and now Jessie Randall is going to your head. I hate to be the one to break it to you, Target, but you're not so hot. Sure, I can walk into my neighborhood bullseye and pick up a nifty wool coat for the season. But I can also pick up a tube of Preparation H. (So I hear.) In my mind, any store where I can simultaneously buy something "fabuless" and something to "soothe the itch" shouldn't press their luck with wrapping paper subterfuge.

I can't quit you just yet, so consider this a warning. Lose the ugly paper, keep the good ones in stock, and package it all so I can wrap more than two A5-sized presents at a time. I don't think I'm asking much. Remember, K-Mart has Martha. And a pharmacy section.

Regards,
Jules

Hello Migraine, My Old Friend

Mickey love
Originally uploaded by poem gal

I've had a headache since last Wednesday, and it's all my fault. I haven't had a consistent run of headaches like this since I was pregnant. The brief respite was wonderful and due to eating a predominately raw diet (lots of fruits, vegetables, nuts, seeds, salads, etc.). I discovered my body functions best on whole, unprocessed foods, and really the results were miraculous. On top of living headache free, my stomach pains and heartburn disappeared and I lost 12 pounds in a matter of 3 weeks. Amazing!

So why did I stop? Several reasons. The primary reason is financial. Why does 1lb of raw macadamia nuts cost $12? That's a rhetorical question. I know why it costs so much, but it doesn't stop the sting of injustice when that 1lb of nuts lasts me a couple of days. Meanwhile, over on aisle 10 I can take my $12 and buy 7 packs of 5 Shrek-shaped Macaroni & Cheese. That's 35 boxes, people. 35! I could eat Macaroni & Cheese exclusively in December and still have enough to carry me into the middle of January. Eating healthy is expensive, and this year we had several thousand dollars worth of medical expenses that forced me to modify our food budget. Yes, I'm bitter.

The second reason is that I am a variety kind of gal, and while I love salads, they wear thin after a couple of months. There are loads and loads of delicious raw recipes out there, and that would certainly remove the monotony of the diet, but I just can't seem to find the time to make anything. Now I'm just whining.

The last excuse reason I'm not currently following my diet is the weather. Salads, fruits, smoothies, and the like are a blessed relief in the summer. Now that it's cold, though, I find myself craving something warm and cozy.

I can't help but look over my list and think these are some pretty lame excuses for not following a diet that makes me feel so healthy. The money one is pretty valid, but I can just skip the nuts for the time being. Headaches? Heartburn? Lethargy? Stomachaches? I don't get it. What am I doing?

Surely I'm not the only one who defies logic by eating or doing things they shouldn't?

...............

The Mickeys were a gift from Mikey. (In case you were wondering about the Mickey Love picture above) Yesterday I spent the afternoon on the couch in agony. I pretty much let Mikey run amok and put Nico in his jumper so he was at least contained and safe from any choking hazards Mikey may have left on the ground. I must have looked pretty bad, because Mikey came up to me with his beloved Mickey crew and said, "Here, Mama. This will make you feel better." He was right, it did.

Dear Gray Hair,

Screw you.

You are hereby given notice that the undersigned is terminating your tenancy of the premises located at front hairline, where you are a tenant from month to month under the lease dated January 01, 1992 between Jules as unwilling landlord and Nasty-Ass-Gray-Hair as tenant. This termination is to be effective on December 14, 2007. You must continue to make landlord suffer mercilessly until this date.

You are required to vacate and surrender possession of the premises to the undersigned on or before the above date, free of all occupants and personal possessions, e.g., grotesque two inch baby hairs and maroon spots of faded color. Upon termination, the security deposit in the amount of $100.00, or any remaining balance, will be used to repair any damage to the premises and ego and otherwise applied according to law.

If you fail to vacate the premises by the above date, the undersigned may commence eviction proceedings against you and/or exercise other available rights and remedies under the law. Landlord is willing and able to use any and all coloring techniques to ensure your timely demise.

Thank you for your anticipated cooperation, bitch.

Very truly yours,

Jules
Landlord

..........

Anyone else suffer from premature gray hair resistant to color? My color doesn't last more than one month before my hairline is 50%-75% gray. It used to hold color well, but not anymore. I've been told I'll probably need to go lighter to hide it or color my hair every 3 weeks. I'm not thrilled with either option. Option A may not look so hot with my dark hair and eyes, and Option B doesn't work with my budget.

Thoughts?

Pancakes & French Fries?

Yep.

I was 14 years old and staying the night at Kara's house. At around 2:00 am in the morning, still bushy tailed and bright eyed after a night of boy talk, movies, and Saturday Night Live, we decided to make ourselves a little snack. The problem? We couldn't decide if we wanted something sweet or something savory. Pancakes or French fries. Of course, at 14 years of age, that wasn't exactly a deterrent. No, instead we did what any enterprising teenage girls would do: we made both. At 2:00 am.

The next morning(ish) we had a bit of explaining to do (it takes a lot of dishes to make pancakes and French fries, especially when you don't really know what you are doing). The utter confusion our menu selection induced was just enough to deflect attention away from the grease and syrup stains peppering the kitchen. To this day that late night snack lives on in infamy with Kara's family.

So what does this have to do with my blog?

I've toyed with the idea of starting a blog for the better part of a year, but the thought of committing to one focus gave me the vapors. You hear it time and time again that great blogs have focus. Focus?! I usually skip lunch just to avoid the hassle of making a decision. Finally, though, I decided to be true to myself and write about whatever suits me. Every day (?! it's like I don't know my own self!) I'll try to write about nothing. Or everything. Just not something. Consider this blog an homage to the indecisive. Those creative individuals out there who love fashion, and design, and cooking, and art, and science, and math, and crafting and are looking for someone else out there who loves it all, too.

I guess if I had to sum it up, I like to think Pancakes & French Fries, the blog, is a bit like the story that inspired it's name. Spontaneous. Irreverent. A little bit sweet, a little bit savory. Like my life. Like your life.