In Memoriam

Sometimes when you know your words are not enough, it's best to look to those that are already there.

In Memoriam of those who left this world too soon on Friday, and for those who seek solace from their loss:

“You - you alone will have the stars as no one else has them...In one of the stars I shall be living.  In one of them I shall be laughing.  And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night...You - only you - will have stars that can laugh.  And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me.  You will always be my friend.  You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure...And your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky!  Then you will say to them, 'Yes, the stars always make me laugh!'  And they will think you are crazy.  It will be a very shabby trick that I shall have played on you...It will be as if, in place of the stars, I had given you a great number of little bells that knew how to laugh..." --From Antoine de Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince

{Image Credit: Much Loved via Sho & Tell}

Isn't It Ironic?

It was Alanis Morissette who first posed the question, "Isn't it ironic, don't you think?"  At the ripe age of nine, I was much too busy trying to figure out what a jagged little pill was to ponder life's other metaphoric mysteries.  Now that I've grown a little and have mastered such logic puzzles as the gas oven, it seems my mind is finally ready to tackle these quests.

So here I am, a twentysomething, and thinking isn't it ironic...

• That on the Third of December in Chicago, when it's nearing 70-degrees outside, I would be wishing for the brisk temperatures of norm?  It just seems that sudden heat waves don't hold much space in a season where a slew of furnaces have already been ushered in.  My adorable cashmere sweater sure didn't think so.
• That on this same day I would discover a surprising weight loss and thus consume a lunch complete with a chocolate dessert?  Rather than try to get my belt to that next notch over tomorrow, it seemed most logical to reward the extra pant and sweater space with a brownie.  Okay, fine I asked for chips instead of fruit too.
• That still later on that day the realization of a cleansed mode called for a glass of wine.  It has been days since I indulged in meals out complete with a glass or two  As a result my mind was clear and my face fresh-the first time in as many Mondays.  I was so proud of myself!  Cheers!

{Image via swissmiss}

Happy December!

Since the weekend has come and gone....Happy December!  Hope you enjoy each and every day of this holiday season in the best ways you've grown to know!

Give Peace a Chance

So...did you survive the first round of holiday festivities?  It's easy to forget how stressful they can be, eh?  The cooking, the cleaning, the shopping, and the redundant conversations.  Okay, so I can only testify to the last part.  Knowing how much wine I had to consume just as a result from that though I can only imagine how many more bottles would have had to be on hand otherwise.

The holidays are so much fun though, and shouldn't result in gray hairs.  Before Christmas comes, browse through this list of safe conversation topics to curb any potential spine-stiffening hconflicts (sorry, I can't save you from the other chores).

• Your most recent travel adventure (unless it in any way involves foreign policy)
• That change you made to your house (but do not have it interlude into your next DIY project)
• The amazing pasta dish you had last month (as long as it wasn't at the hottest restaurant in town, because then they'll want a name for how to get in)
• The most recent Clooney flick (avoid details of political undertones)
• The big sale last weekend (just do not divulge any dollar amounts for judging eyes)
• The Real Housewives (refrain from describing anyone by ethnicity, race, or religion though)
• What your book club is reading (only the PG-13 literature)
• iPad or Powerbook?  (much less controversial than the age-old PC or Mac debate)
• Sports (seemingly a safe topic across the board so long as it's before the fifth round of drinks)
• Favorite Christmas cookie (bringing up actual memories typically results in unsolicited guest contributions of minor details)

An inner housewife rears her ugly, well-coiffed head

 yoinked from the inimitable Hyperbole and a Half

This weekend, my boyfriend and I hosted his little sister for her first-ever visit to Houston. Given that my manpanion and I have been living together for two years now and started dating a seeming eternity (five years) ago, it freaked me out how freaked out I was getting about her impending visit.

Despite the longevity of our relationship and her totally warm, non-threatening demeanor, Melissa’s visit sent me into more of a tizzy than any prior houseguest. Everything had to be PERFECT. Matchbook Mag-worthy. I’m not sure why I suddenly put such enormous pressure on myself; I can only assume it’s because my boyfriend's sister is in regular contact with their mother. Suddenly, oddly, it seemed important that he at least appear well cared for. A ‘50s-era housewife began rearing her hideous, unfamiliar, perfectly coiffed head. 

My To-Do list began looking more and more absurd:

• Clean bathroom
• Wash sheets & towels
• Get bedside lamps
• Paint bedside lamps to look like mercury glass lamps you can't afford
• New kitchen rug?
• **Need Tchotskes** ceramic artichokes you saw on One Kings Lane?? Anthro knobbly candlesticks??
• fresh flowers
• learn how to arrange flowers
• BAKE?!

Ultimately, my efforts were futile. I got too happy at a happy hour the night before she landed and cut my cleaning/total overhaul time by two thirds as a result. Mel was as predictably gracious and laidback as ever, and didn’t seem to notice that the grout in the shower of our 1930s home is no longer sparkling white.

Or seem to miss the nonexistent tchotskes, or mind that instead, our mantle is filled with empty bottles we've kept for sentimental reasons (also bug spray.)

Mostly it was futile because it's pretty clear who takes care of whom in this relationship, despite all my last-minute efforts at spin. We take turns. And this time, the caretaker wasn't the girl melting down over tchotskes after too many shotskies — it was the boy putting her to bed.