It's beginning to look a lot like... Christmas?

The holidays are coming and I can’t wait!

Last week, while shopping for some household items my boyfriend would argue I don’t need, I spotted them: Christmas trees on display, lights twinkling, beckoning me to come over for a closer look. Jolly Santas, romping reindeer and frosty snowmen adorned the shelves, looking for a home to call their own. Boxes of holiday lights were on sale (Buy one get one free!) and I was tempted to take one of everything in the aisle. Under the watchful eye of my boyfriend, however, I managed to tear myself away without actually buying anything, though not before mentally check-marking everything I wanted to go back and purchase in the coming weeks.

I love the holiday season; it’s my favorite part of the year, as is evidenced by the fact that I’ve already dug out my Christmas CDs to play in my car. I figured I’d enjoy them before the holiday season officially hits and we’re inundated with Christmas cheer that’s often too annoying to enjoy. It’s far less stressful to get an early start and, hey, I waited until after Halloween, right? 

One of my co-workers asked me recently why I’m so gung-ho about Christmas and questioned why I’m ignoring the rapidly-approaching Thanksgiving holiday. Well, the answer is simple: it’s cheaper. Sure I have to spend money on presents for my family and friends for Christmas, but given my penchant for decorating my super-small apartment, I’ve opted to ignore decorating for Thanksgiving altogether and focus instead on buying Christmas accessories. If you happen to walk into my humble abode at any time in the next few weeks, you’ll likely think I’ve lost my mind completely: the place looks like Santa Claus threw-up everywhere (how’s that for descriptive?). Stockings, tinsel, snowmen, reindeer, Santa, gingerbread men – I’ve got it all on display. What can I say? It makes me smile.

Part of the allure is the ambiance; the other part is the nostalgia. 

Growing up, I was always excited to help my parents decorate our Christmas tree (complete with Lionel train set and quaint village set up underneath) and string up lights outside. We didn’t have the most impressive display in the neighborhood, but we did a respectable job. The house always emitted a warm, welcoming glow during the month of December. Once the tree was up, I could be found basking in the luminescence with a book in one hand a mug of steaming hot chocolate in the other. In retrospect, I realize I took for granted those quiet moments, and I’d give anything to have them back.

When I moved to Monson after college, I suffered with what I can only describe as homesickness. My apartment did not feel like a home yet and I still wasn’t used to being on my own; I called my parents in tears nearly every day lamenting my decision to move so far away. To combat my loneliness and in an attempt to make Monson feel more like home, I went all out with decorating for the holidays. Mom gave me some of the items she had amassed in her collection throughout the years, which brought a piece of my family to my apartment. 

Since then, I’ve purchased my own holiday tchotchkes, which adorn every level surface of my apartment. Perhaps I’ve gone a bit too far (the number of boxes housing my decorations currently stands about a head taller than my 5-foot frame), but it does a great deal in keeping me cheerful and chipper during these first few weeks of winter-like weather. 

If pressed, I’d have to say I’m not ignoring Thanksgiving at all. The ornaments may be inspired by Christmas, but the sentiments are filled with gratitude. 

Column reprinted with permission from The Journal Register.

Splinter

Last night I was sitting on my new (old) futon, running my hand along the distressed arm of the frame when I felt it, a small, slim piece of wood burrowing into my epidermis: a splinter. Normally, my less-than-composed-when-faced-with-a-medical-emergency self would overreact out of sheer terror, but even though my heart was doing a pretty good job of keeping up the tempo of music pounding in my ears, I stayed cool.

It wasn't like I sliced my finger with a knife or anything; it was a splinter after all.

"Doc?" I kept my voice at an even tone.

"Yeah?" He was trying to sleep and not paying the slightest bit of attention to me.

"I have a sliver."

He sat up, the fog of semi-consciousness dissipating. "You what?"

I leaned forward and he took my outstretched hand, fingers splayed to reveal the foreign body -- not much bigger than the head of a needle. I tried to pick it out myself but I lacked the ability to pinch it between my manicured nails and therefore needed assistance.

Sure it wasn't quite like extracting a foreign object from deep within the cavernous human body or suturing a gaping flesh wound back together, but given he's still in med school, I figured I'd take the opportunity to teach him a lesson in medicine, however slight. Let's just hope he doesn't bill my insurance company for his time.

E-mail

The following is actual e-mail correspondence between me and my father that is just too priceless not to chronicle here..

Me: Just so you know, I'm plotting the great cat swipe of 2010. One day soon when you least expect it, I'm going to show up at your house and steal sylvester back. And in his place I'm going to leave devil kitty...aka... Little Bastard (i.e. Your cat).

He's already torn through two windows with plastic wrap on them for insulation, not to mention the sheer number of light bulbs he's sent to that great lamp in the sky. I'm not going to keep fighting this battle, after all he's not my cat (as mom keeps pointing out). What am I supposed to DO with him!? Please advise as I'm at my wit's end.....

Dad: Try fattening him up so he'll be more docile and  not so nimble, and tranquilizers... for the cat, not you! Think of it as good preparation for when you have to child-proof your home.

Lovely. Thanks for your help, Dad! 

A piece of fire history

A few weeks ago, I wrote a column for my newspaper about my grandfather, a retired acting district fire chief from Springfield, and how much I admire him. Today, I ran into a retired firefighter from Palmer who said he really enjoyed reading that column. That, in itself, was a wonderful sentiment to have heard; I love it when people can relate to what I write. Then he informed me that he was cleaning out his house recently and came across his helmet from his days on Ladder One (back before the town got its tower truck and firefighters had to actually climb the latter to access burning buildings).

"I want to give it to you," he said.

Blank stare. "What?"

"You'd appreciate it, I want you to have it," he repeated.

I couldn't believe it. Helmets are something that are typically passed down through generation. After retirement, firefighters often bestow their helmets on their sons or daughters, perhaps even their grandchildren. As ardently as I support my grandfather, I don't have possession of his helmet; my cousin Rob has it, I believe. The fact that this individual is offering to give me his helmet is... well, it's beyond words. Excited doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling at this moment.

10 things I learned this last week

It's been forever since I've actually put any effort into writing anything here. I'm going to rationalize it by saying that I'm a writer by profession so if I'm on vacation, I'm not allowed to write (much).

Now that I'm back at work, I've got tons to do... In lieu of writing actual sentences, I've opted to instead compile a list. Gotta ease my way back into it, after all...

So here it is... 10 things I learned this last week

1. After 18 years, I still haven't kicked my irrational fear of German shepherds.
2. Despite said fear, I still want one.
3. This election needs to be over with pronto.
4. Halloween is not just a kids' holiday.
5. I hate highways.
6. Monson really is home.
7. I have a twin, but more often than not, I feel like an only child.
8. My heart and my head just cannot seem to come to agreement on some things.
9. The temperature needs to stay at 60ish degrees. I can't handle anything much higher/lower.
10. My new maxim: I will not die wondering.