Sunday, December 10, 2006

Glorious snowy weekend retreat with Wing It! in Truckee. Last time I was in snow that deep was March 2001, in Massachusetts, the week of my brother's wedding and my mother's death. I remember the whole world swathed in white then, adding a ghostly unreal feeling to the too-big experiences we were passing through.

With Wing It! this weekend we had some good play time, solid, and a lot of hanging out and eating. It's always something to actually live with these folks that I'm in such intimate relationship with--intimate and yet I don't see them much outside of practice--sort of like my family, whom I don't see much outside of family occasions and visits.

The most important people in my life I don't see very often--what's wrong with this picture?

I completely blew my no-sugar rule over the weekend and probably gained five pounds. Quiche, chili, cornbread slathered in butter, a million different kinds of chocolate, sugared popcorn, was too much fun to sit around in front of the roaring wood stove and eat and play board games and kibbitz and laugh. We went to a good Italian restaurant as well.

I thought I was dealing pretty well with holiday-itis and December, but actually I'm in a pretty reactive, Fuck-you-I'm-Jewish space. I wish I weren't--it's inconvenient, and annoying. It's hard to navigate this time gracefully. Nobody wants to be the Grinch. But the truth is, I want all the poinsetta plants to vanish off the face of the earth and I want December 25 to be just another damn day. G. helpfully pointed out that 90% of Americans are Christian, which is a fact, so that means suck it up, appreciate the dark and quiet and cold for what they are, and go to the movies a lot. Meanwhile, I still haven't sent out the kids' Chanukah presents yet. Bad auntie!!!

Good news: I got matched with a Little Sister, from the Big Brothers/Big Sisters organization. Can't wait to meet her! She's 13 years old. I won't say her name here--I'll just call her L.S. to preserve confidentiality.

Okay, now I've got to put an ad on Craigs List, looking for another housemate. Ouch! Ouf! Pray for someone stable and happy and stable and mature, and sane.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Nice poem in my recently-arrived "The Sun" mag.
I have always assumed that poetry should be "about one bubble off of level": and that is as it should be.

Love the Hussein/whale comparison.