The holidays are front loaded, I think. Christmas decorations come out in November now in anticipation. Then, in early to mid-December there is the lighting of the downtown tree and the big choir performance of carols at night in the park. That Saturday there is the big parade ending with Santa. There are more performances in churches and cathedrals, and then there are the BIG parties all over town. What is left now is some caroling and office parties this weekend. The colleges have closed and the kiddos have gone home for Christmas. Other people are just getting out of town. There now is that pure-Christmas lull.
That is how it seems to me, at least.
But I have done a remarkable job of keeping my head above water this year. I have not wallowed in the season in any maudlin way. I've enjoyed it quite a bit in fact. I'm just floating, feeling somehow joyous and above the fray. I've eaten more sugar than is normal--fruit nut cakes, a box of turtles, ice cream sandwiches, rich, dark peanut butter cups, chocolate truffles, and thick dark chocolate bars filled with hazelnuts. It is obscene. And I have NOT had a dry December. I've had lunches and dinners with friends and have more upcoming, and there have been parties, too. I've heard the band play carols in the park and walked the avenue lights with a girl who came to town just to see me. And not once have I watched an old Christmas show. I've even given up on the Hipster Christmas thing. I may be doing better than the stated 10% (go back a post if you have missed that).
Sunday, though, was much like Saturday. I didn't leave the house until late afternoon. Before I went to my mother's, I went to the cafe for a cup of tea. The Sunday girl was working, the one who makes the mimosas for me. There were a few people ahead of me in line. The Sunday girl didn't seem as effervescent as usual, so I thought not to do more than give her my order without a lot of chat. When I got to the counter, though, she seemed to pick up.
"Did you have fun at the Grandma Festival?"
"Oh. . . yea. . . I saw some people I hadn't seen in a long time. I didn't have a camera with me, though, so. . . . I guess I had more fun than you?"
"I did alright. I worked ten hours straight, but I kept it pleasant."
She must have served thousands of people that day, so I was a little surprised that she remembered I had come in. Pleased, too.
The tea was a loose leaf jasmine green tea that they had been out of for a long while. It was really good. I sat and wrote in my journal like a dork, but everyone is a dork in a cafe anyway, most on computers, but still dorks, so I only feel a little sheepish with my Moleskine.
At the bar was the girl who argued with me about the makeup of cafe con leche, the very tall, thin, and tatted up girl who has great looks and a bit of psychosis, I would guess. She sat with a large drawing pad as I had seen her do a time before. She wasn't working. She just came to the cafe to draw. I wondered a bit about that. I was facing in a direction that put her in my eye line, and out of the corner of my eye I saw her turn a couple of times to look over her shoulder. Then she turned square around and gave me a quizzical look. I looked back, gave a weak smile, and a slight wave of the hand. She stared for a few beats, then reached up and took out her earbuds.
"Hi," she said. .
"Hello."
She just stared at me with a quizzical look, so I asked nervously, "What are you doing?"
Oh. . . shit.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you drawing?"
"Yes. What are you doing?"
I held up my pen. "Writing."
"About what?" she asked.
I didn't know what to say. I mumbled and stuttered. . . "duh duh duh duh duh. . . ." But what actually came out of my mouth was too stupid and embarrassing to write. And yet. . . I must.
"The Existential Void?"
"Good luck," she said.
"Yea. . . it's really good."
The earbuds went back in.
Are you kidding me? Or rather, am I kidding you? I'm not. Serious confession. I have no game. I have never always been shy around women. And now. . . well, it is worse.
When I got to mother's house, while we were sitting out, her across the street neighbor saw us and walked over with her two dogs. I wasn't in the mood and since I'd been there awhile, I chatted briefly and said I needed to go. My mother got up to give me a hug. She patted my belly and I made my usual fat joke.
"There are plenty of women who'd like to feel that body," my kindly mother said.
"Really? Where are they? I'll drive over there now."
"What kind of girl are you looking for?" the neighbor lady queried.
"You know. The usual. Twenty-five, educated, sophisticated, attractive."
The neighbor lady just rolled her eyes.
It is a standing joke, of course. I say it just to piss people off. It is a schtick, nothing more. I don't even know how to talk to a woman anymore.
"What are you writing about?"
I should have replied, "Tell me your most interesting story so I can steal it." That would have been clever.
Last night was a Full Cold Moon. It hung in the sky like a big old talisman.
"Yo. . . listen. . . I could use a little luck."
Couldn't we all.
Oh. . . that photo? Ha! That's a hillbilly party on my very own deck--tequila and whiskey, tobacco and beer, and a couple of pistols at the ready. I just like scaring the neighbors.
And so. . . some music from "my people."
I like scaring you, too!
No comments:
Post a Comment