You say all your holiday lights and decorations are repacked and tucked away in the attic, and you add, you have returned to life as normal, but I’m still lingering over the gifts that keep me feeling like life is a wonderful celebration and not just a twisted complicated set of lies (or half truths or mostly falsehoods or what ever you call the untruths we have become accustomed to) told by Trump. This week, while the border wall lies mount higher than the proposed wall itself, I especially need to count my gifts, stay focused on what I can control, look up and say thank you to a pretty sunset spied on an afternoon run, and trust, yes trust that the goodness of the good will prevail over those aging white suits frantic to return to a world where their privilege was a propped up principal granted regardless of their bad bad behavior, their criminal behavior, that passed as acceptable for centuries. Ignore them and their willingness to surrender truth I tell myself, and trust that the newbies in Congress will put aside this old order and “impeach the motherfucker.”
Before 2018 fades into the dust, I decided to trip back through Nine Cent Girl to rediscover what a fabulous year it truly was for me. Travel loomed large this past year, as did love with the family and outdoors, and having fun with fashion. Yes to questioning life. I still lend advice on just about everything in post after post, perhaps rather lavishly, but in all honesty, I do so for myself as well as all of you. I wrote this retrospective post for those of you who may have missed a weekly entry or two last year, or, just in case you’d like to revisit. Ready? Let’s do this wearing a splashy pink wig, and glasses that reflect the world back right back to you, as I wore for: “A Light Exists in Spring.”
In 2008 I printed, in duplicate, what I thought a finalized draft of my novel Crazy String, which I spent over a year writing. With all my naive surety I mailed my manuscript to the multitudes, and in what seemed like an instant dream-come-true signed an exclusive contract with a NYC Fifth Ave big-shot editor. In the spirit of holiday days, I will simply state, that 18 months later, we parted ways, headed out opposite doors. Me deflated, contract not renewed, sans publisher, but multiple drafts deeper into story through blood, sweat, and tears. Life lesson 101: dreams can be fleeting.
Wonder. Unwind. Dance. Do nothing. Advice for the holidays once again. Love to all my sweets, xxoo
Not sure what crazy fun you’re planning for your holiday weekend or week or day but my list is growing into a steady passion of joyful dreamy moments cascading in my mind as I drive back and forth to work. My biggest hope? Time to recover from the hustle and bustle. Time to not do anything that I have to. Now that sounds like a Happy Holiday!
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There is a cut-your-own tradition in Vermont with Christmas trees. Decades ago when my family first started to have Thanksgiving here, we’d tag our tree during that long weekend. Then, weeks later, we’d head back to the farm, with sled in tow and saw in hand, we’d try to find our special tree. There were years when we’d have to trudge through feet of snow, and on hands and knees, dig our way down to find the trunk. Frozen fingers wrapped around the saw we’d tug back and forth until it was cut through. Oh those fresh trees would fill the house with everything Christmas. Sweet pine. Cold air and snow. Even the mountain view came into our living room with that smell.
Tis the season of food drives and toy drives and considering those less fortunate than ourselves. It is the season of counting your blessing and sharing your riches. Time to watch out for those who need our care, and that extends to those minute song birds that stay through the winter months.
This week I wrestled with post-holiday blues and in this quiet time I recall those no longer here. Those shiny, vibrant beings who escaped their earthly bodies to dance with stars. Or at least that’s what I imagine tonight. I mean, if I can’t share a bottle of champagne with my mother anymore, at least I can presume she is doing something fabulous, starry even, right? As my eye drifts out the picture window at the endless snow falling, I hear her ringing laughter, for she adored the holiday season, skating full force from one glittery gathering to the next without pause.