giggles

Winter is vulnerable and naked. It has not the flourish and feast of spring nor the childhood fun of summer. It has not the vibrant colors of autumn. And in Texas, it usually has not the brilliance of a fresh snow.

But this year, Mother Nature took pity on us. She adorned us with jewels I haven't seen since moving to this state.

The Trees' Fashion Show

Shivering Gnome

Frosty's Lair

A Dog's Dream

Today, I received one of those treats born on fairy wings.

It happened on my way to yoga--an ordinary day in an ordinary car taking my ordinary route. The classical radio station started playing Lehar's Gold and Silver Waltz. For those unfamiliar with the piece, it's sprightly, delicate, and at times, mischievous. In other words, the perfect soundtrack.

At an ordinary light at an ordinary, albeit busy, intersection, something had gone awry (the work of Puck, perhaps?). The light had stopped working. Cars, most on their way to work, some to drop off kids at school, treated the six-lane intersection like a stop sign.

And that's when I noticed it.

All of these cars, normally infused with Dallas impatience and road rage, waltzed, a sprightly, delicate waltz.

The intersection became the ballroom, and cars lined up and took their turns. One, two, three, one, two, three. Light, on your toes. One, two, three. Not a misstep.

We danced to Lehar's Gold and Silver Waltz.

And then I came to the other side of the intersection, and the moment had ended. For me, at least. The dance continued behind me.

I suppose if it had not been an ordinary day, I wouldn't have noticed the fairies making mischief. 

And so the tragedy must begin.

Soon, I'll strip my living room of its holiday clothes.

Every year, I pull out my Christmas decorations from the attic. (Technically, Chris pulls them out, but potato, potato.) My living room prances in excitement. We're changing from the Sunday dress into our comfy clothes. 

You see, my house's natural state is Christmas: the trees, the nativities, the Dicken's Village (I got a new figurine of a book signing this year), the snowmen, more snowmen (it looks like Frosty threw-up in here), the lights, the decked halls. This is how it's meant to be. So when the twelve days of Christmas are up and Epiphany season begins, changing out of this attire is like convincing a toddler that she needs to remove her favorite pink princess shirt and red polka dot pants because of some crazy fashion notions Mommy has.

I'll have to say goodbye to Theresa. I'll have to put away Maggie, Rose, and Henry (the three small artificial trees). I'll have to pack our nativities and snowmen and Christmas music boxes that sing "O Come, All Ye Faithful" and "Joy to the World." And I'll pull out the Sunday clothes.

At my hairdresser's yesterday, I picked up a Women's Day magazine. Between pages of how to make the best chicken soup and Halloween cupcakes, I found an article on 10 ways to give yourself mini-spa treatments at home. Who could resist that?

The third tip said to do something you loved as a girl. According to this writer and the studies she read (or he read, perhaps), girls ages ten to twelve are most connected with things that make them happy. 

In light of this tidbit, I've decided to compare the 10-year-old me with the I'm-sorry-we-must-be-cutting-out-year-old me.

1. I choreographed and performed dances in the living room with my sister and friends. (And, yes, my parents own video-taped evidence.) Check. With the exception that I no longer perform to Debbie Gibson nor to an audience of my stuffed animals. (And, yes, filmed evidence may exist from last Christmas when I taught my nieces a dance to the themes of the Miser Brothers [Snow and Heat, for those of you who aren't familiar with them].)
2. My mom was teaching me to knit. Check. I've recently rediscovered this love. A couple years ago, when attempting to reteach myself this skill, I couldn't figure out what the heck the book (entitled A Single-Cell's Guide to Knitting: Baby Steps or something to that effect) was doing. I had to call my mom. She taught me over the phone.
3. I started a writer's group called Writer's Block (being blissfully ignorant as to the true meaning of that phrase), enlisted (drafted?) a few friends (and my sister because we needed a secretary), and wrote short stories to sell in our neighborhood. One of my friends decided to illustrate our stories. She's now a graphic artist. Check. As I said on Facebook yesterday, I have the tinselest job in the world.
4. I spent nights reading one last chapter of a book until no more chapters existed; I finished the stack of books I got for Christmas by the end of Christmas break; I fell in love with Anne of Green Gables. Check. Check. Check.
5. I sewed a dress for my Barbie, though I didn't particularly want to play with my Barbie much anymore. Work on this one.
6. I played school with my sister. (My mom found old school textbooks including--oh, the excitement--teacher's editions. I still remember Roman city-states from teaching her about them.) Check. I teach flute and piano lessons and have opportunities to teach in different church venues. 
7. I played piano and, toward the end of my tenth year, began learning flute. Check. Though I haven't played flute in months.
8. Every night, I slept with Big Foot, a stuffed bear my grandparents gave me before I was born. Check. No comment.
9. And in honor of Christmas, I watched White Christmas and Rudolph a dozen times this time of year. Check. Or at least I'm on my way.

Last night, before watching the latest episode of Flash Forward, Chris said, "Remind me how the last one ended."

My reply: "The guy from Coupling who was in the girl from Lost's flash forward got a call from Charlie from Lost saying something about them being responsible, and the Shakespeare guy told his coworker to call the hacker."

Oddly enough, he understood me.

A young man takes up the quest to save the maiden fair (or her job) as well as health and dental plans for the office. Chivalry is still alive.

I wrote the screenplay for a short film entered in a film festival: The Adventures of Don and Cho. 

(Sorry about the audio--sometimes the lines are hard to understand.) I had such fun working on this one. I have to be honest--I crack myself up.

***

Fun things to do with a jump rope.

(Seriously, I can barely skip over mine more than ten times in a row.)

Can you make a career of this?

If you haven't seen this video (and/or you need a Thursday pick-me-up), you have to watch this now.

Zap!

This may come as a shock to some of you, but growing up, I was a nerd.

Yes, it's true.

By high school, I'd managed to make friends with a couple of people considered cool, but I never was considered so. People who spend significant time in worlds of their own creation seldom attain popularity in this one. Add to that, I made good grades. And I spent more hours practicing an instrument than conversing with humans. I was hopeless.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me at the time. Who doesn't want to be liked?

Do you ever have those mornings when you don't want to get up? Your bed is warm and comfortable and comforting, and the world out there is cold and demanding and hectic. Having the arms of the world's sexiest man wrapped around you doesn't help with the whole getting up, of course.

***

Chris is now working from home. Which means we could either share an office or move one of us.