My beloved sister turns up her nose at most blogs. Nothing but “Dear Diary” stuff, she sniffs. So this one’s for her.
I’ve been slowly getting into the Christmas spirit now that we’ve dumped November for good so, each day, I add a little more holiday “décor” to the old dwelling. The tree is up and the lights are on it and the top, a Mexican tin poinsettia, is in place. Actually, my tree is not really a tree but a tall cone-shaped topiary covered in English ivy that I put outside in the warm months and nurse through winter indoors. It does very well in both habitats and is a pleasure to behold in any season, even when I let it go wild in the summer. After I bring it in I weave the new growth back into the general conical “shape” and, voila! a living Christmas tree. When I say the lights are “on” it that’s not quite true because what I do is stuff the interior with 200 lights (the little cat-penis shaped ones), so it mostly glows from within. This coming weekend I will complete the tree decoration with a myriad of small, cunning ornaments; a lesson in economical frippery. My friend Paul, from Quincy, MA says that using this tree is “cheating” because…well, I’m not sure why for sure. He’s just jealous because I don’t have to sweep up a million needles in January although I, of course, still have to water it. He should know that today’s project was to hang the pinecone wreath he gave me many moons ago in the hallway at the top of the stairs.
Winter was a week or so late this year but we’ve now been greeted with below freezing temperatures so I rescued the terra cotta birdbath and turned off the outside water source. After a brisk cup of coffee and an onion bagel with scallion cream cheese, I whisked myself off to Brooklyn Heights to see Casino Royale, the latest 007 opus. I liked it, I guess; at least it awoke, and slaked, my teen-aged need for gratuitous by-the-clock violence in spectacular locations but, no matter who they try to throw under the bus, James Bond will always be the one and only Sean Connery.
Since the weather was a bit nippy I had the opportunity, for the first time, to wear my new hand knitted sweater, purchased for the price of friendship at the exclusive shop of "Mima Knits." That would be the cool blue one with the letterman-sweater stripes on the left sleeve. I was also very pleased to find $40 tucked away in one of the small hidden pockets of my jacket…two 20’s folded neatly…from whence I know not. I also wore the cap I purchased on the White Pass & Yukon Route train in Skagway, Alaska. All that bundling up was smart except for the gloves I left sitting on the kitchen counter.
After the movie I walked deeper into Brooklyn Heights, salivating for a big, crumbly blue-cheese burger at my favorite diner, the ever friendly and cooperative Grand Canyon. On the way I strolled through the aisles of The Garden of Eden, which is an upscale grocery store with prices to match. Even though I was highly tempted by literally hundreds of choices of chocolates I only came away with one beautiful pomegranate ($2.99). Not to eat, but just because it’s beautiful, and now it is the start of the Christmas décor on my fireplace mantel.
Since I had already perused the NY Times (being alternately disgusted and enlightened) and whipping through the crossword (Tuesday’s puzzle is a piece of cake) I took a book with me to keep the noodle occupied during the subway ride and the pre-movie hiatus while waiting for the innumerable previews to start. I am savoring this particular book and am trying to slow my progress because it’s enthralling and I don’t want to zip through this one like I usually do, that is, speed-reading my way through mediocrity. The book is The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon and is proving to be pretty special. That very same Mima-Knits person (see above) had touted it highly and I immediately caved for the hardcover version on Amazon. So far, no regrets.
So there you have it Dear Diary, and dear Beloved Sister, a day filled with common thoughts and common dreams. Weep if ye must.
Of, I forgot to tell you, I dropped by the drugstore to buy some Safeguard soap (beige) and they were out of stock. So the day wasn’t a total success. You will just have to assume my hygiene regimen was thorough in spite of this disappointment.
I had pretty much decided not to send Christmas cards this year but my resolve has weakened. I really do like receiving them and I presume the people I send them to also like receiving them, although you can never be sure. I know that’s not the right reason for sending cards, that is, hoping to augment ones own pile of greetings, but I think (and hope) there’s more to it. I guess I’m just sentimental enough to think that I’m being honest when I wish my friends and family a happy holiday and a healthy new year and would like them to know it (and believe it). So I’m currently working on at least getting some of them into the postal system in a timely fashion. Today I got a good start by sending cards to the people who have already hit me up with theirs but, looking at my list, I realize I don’t really care if the exchange is fair. I want people to hold my good wishes in their hot little hands and smile or snicker or snort; whichever response is appropriate to their mood at that point in their day. The internet, of course, has made it a lot easier to keep in touch but there is somehow still a nice tradition behind sending cards. Maybe it’s just cheap sentiment but I like the idea behind it and there really isn’t much force of personality behind a smiley face. Is there? :o)?
