Merry Ho Ho

I'm sitting alone in my apartment in Sherman Oaks, California and will be doing the same tomorrow morning. This year I've chosen to spend Christmas alone. This year, even though I have to be in Vancouver - near family and friends - on Jan 5 and the industry here has shutdown and there is no need for me to still be in Cali.... I am in Cali.

It sounds so very martyr-ish but I assure you, I am thrilled. The holidays have never been a happy time for me in fact they are dreaded. My family puts the FUN in Dysfunctional. And I don't blame the fully - I add to the dysfunction by becoming this version of myself that I hate everytime I am around them. I don't know why or how to stop it so this year, I am avoiding them all together. They will be better off but more importantly I will be.

My plans included hiking Fryman Canyon, making an yummy eggs and hasbrown breakfast with my favorite Trader Joe's Authentica Salsa, heading to the beach with the dog, coming home eating junk food and watching Gale Harold movies until I pass out.

However according the the weather reports, the Weather Gods seem to have alternative plans. It's suppose to pour rain all day tomorrow. And judging by the overcast sky I see out my bedroom window, I believe the meteorologists are dead on this time.

Well I have news for the Weather Gods..... I'm a Canadian girl. I've lived in Montreal through ice storms and Vancouver through an almost 30-day downpour. Whatever you can throw at me in California I can handle. I know how to use my windsheild wipers. I own 3 umbrellas and a pair of rubber boots. My Chihuahua has a gortex raincoat.

So bring it on Weather Gods. I'm going to have the Christmas I dreamed of whether you like it or not.

A Little Story

I wrote this a year or so ago. Thought I'd share it here:

NOTHING DRIES IN A BASEMENT

Day 37
I am still waiting for my laundry to dry. The clothes I washed two weeks ago are still hanging limp and lifeless in the bathroom desperately trying to shake off the last dregs of moisture. Even the towel I removed from the dryer two days ago, the one that was so dry it had become like a black hole for moisture - all dampness within its vicinity sucked into it and none able to escape - has succumbed to the creeping wetness. I have decided to limit myself to no more than two showers a week lest I start to grow mold.

I can hear the wind through the treetops outside, gentle breezes tickling the fat green leaves of the chestnut trees. I know there is sunshine as well as I can see tiny slivers of its golden majesty creeping around the base of the high windows.

There is no chance for me to explore the outside world as the spiders have barricaded the front door. I no longer sleep for longer than 10 minutes at a time for fear that I be wrapped in their gossamer threads, paralyzed by terror and silk.

The other day I held one of the woolen sweaters that my mother made for me so many years ago. I cried a little, remembering the cold arctic winds of my youth that would dry your skin clean off your bones if you weren't properly attired. I dream of the sterilizing winters that would blanket the world in nocturnal bliss and the roaring fires that would burn away whatever pests and pestering thoughts managed to crack through the hard shell of winter.

Day 56
I did battle with the spiders today. It was a hard fought battle and while the war is not won, I have most definitely taken a large chunk out of their numbers and their morale.

For the first time I have used my biggest enemy to my advantage. While taking my bi-weekly shower I noticed a group of spiders in the upper right hand corner of the stall. I could see them looking at me, moving furtively around, planning their next attack. I stole from the shower and dipped into the kitchen all the while leaving the shower running. I returned to the bathroom with a medium sized bowl. While standing outside the shower, I filled the bowl with water and flung the contents upward into the nest of arachnids. I could almost hear their screams of surprise and before they had chance to understand what was happening I mercilessly attacked over and over and over again, not giving them a moment to gain footing or shoot webbing to save themselves or their offspring. With the drain cover removed there was no other option but for them to be flushed down into the bowels of the sewer system.

I can see the spiders in the corners of the bathroom that are furthest from the shower creeping further back, knowing that venturing to the stall for life sustaining water will surely end in death.

I hear rumour of an apartment in the west end, fifth floor and south facing windows. I want to believe but I fear, like so many other stories of above ground, well-lit apartments before them, this one too is pure fiction.

Pray for me.