Stops and Starts

            Still ringing, screaming, and singing up there - in my head, but it’s a happy tune. Our day started hanging out with triple the most adorable toddler you ever did see, and errands that were actually fun. It ended with Turbo Tom (that’s what he started to call himself last night) clearing the dance floor at the Fairmont, and singing with the band to a very buzzed and appreciative crowd. Someone a little more gone than the rest, told him he sounded like Justin Bieber. We couldn’t stop laughing. A few others suggested Tommy post songs on You Tube - no need to protest, we are no longer tipsy, and are NOT going to do it.  But just for the record, someone also told my handsome hubby that he looked like Tom Cruise... we are still laughing. I ended 2010 and started 2011 wearing a tiara. Great stop - wonderful start to the year!

I’ll Be Gone for Christmas

        While everyone’s heading home for the holiday’s, my husband and I are getting out of dodge. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. It’s my favorite holiday, and yes, I wish people still said Merry Christmas, instead of Happy Holiday’s. But then, I understand that some people do not celebrate Christmas, so I find myself parroting back Happy Holiday’s these days.

        Anyway, going out of town does not mean I’m avoiding Christmas. In our soon to be 

empty home, the tree is up. The outside is decked out with snowflakes, candy cane, and holograms, and all the sparkling Christmas lights are set to a timer, that will be on every night until after New Year’s. I’ve done some Christmas shopping, lined up at the mall, and gifts will be dropped off to nieces, nephews, family members and friends, prior to flight.

So why exactly am I leaving? Why do I feel a need to get away? These are just a few possible reasons: 

First, my husband says; “It’s our tradition. Like taking pictures at the fair every year. Besides, we need a White Christmas and it doesn’t snow here.”  

Second, he works in retail, and I need to get him away from the craziness with his sanity intact. I’ve experienced first hand what that was like, and must admit, have not fully recovered. My retail co-workers even refused to do a Christmas party or secret santa one year - In my shocked stage, I considered it sacrilege. 

Third, and probably most important, the last few family gatherings we attended before going out of town, was not quite the hallmark moment I thought it would be. In fact, I sat in stunned silence, as words guaranteed to land you on the naughty list were exchanged, tears flowed, and punches almost flew. 

        The year after, I blissfully run off to the mountains with my wonderful husband, while on the home front- punches did fly and hair extensions came off, or so I heard. On the up side, the food was still good. 

Whew, I must say the reasons, specially the last one, do make a compelling case for going away during Christmas, but I have an even better one. Memories. 

Where I come from, Christmas was wonderful for a lot of reasons. I didn’t even have a Christmas wish list. You got surprise presents, and they always turned out to be just what you wanted. 

People had Christmas spirit. They wanted to celebrate, and the rounds of revelry started early, usually at about December fifteenth. From then, there would be Christmas parties, night masses, gift exchanges, and holiday celebrations every night until after the New Year. 

Yes, it might have been a different place and time, but I’m thankful I experienced the joy of the season. I’m glad I’ve seen it manifested through people who gave of themselves, and did so much with so little. From it, I learned lessons that stay with me to this day, and for which, I will always be grateful. I learned to truly cherish the Christmas holidays, and appreciate the many blessings I’ve been showered with. 

Christmas is a time for happiness. It is not an ordeal to get over with. It is a time to love, to share, to believe in miracles, and be a child again. It is a time for moments that will sustain you throughout the coming year, and moments that will take your breath away. 

I have come to learn, that sometimes such moments get lost in the bustle of retail, the complaints of the dissatisfied, and everyone who is so focused on themselves, they fail to see what Christmas is really about. 

It was in the midst of all this, that a great idea was born. Grab at least one person you absolutely cannot live without, and get away. Create your own Christmas memories. Make your own traditions. Sing Christmas carols off-key. Dance as if no one is watching- hopefully no one will be. Throw a snowball. Play tackle football in the snow. Make your own list. Do what you want, or do nothing. It’s Christmas. We’re celebrating the birth of Jesus, so be happy. 

That’s what I’m doing this year. That’s why I’ll be gone for Christmas. I’ll be up in a mountain celebrating with someone I love. We intend to get so caught up in the Christmas spirit, we’ll glow brighter than our Christmas lights. Thank you for the blessings. Happy Birthday, Jesus.

Guilt and Cappuccinos

     Overwhelmed. That’s exactly how I felt as I rushed into the Panama Bay Coffee Shop, that gloomy autumn afternoon. It didn’t last long. The scent of dark roast held hints of hazelnut, and mixed with freshly baked cinnamon pastries. It assaulted my senses to the exclusion of everything else. I dreamed of this place. Here, sales reports could wait, and problems, both work-related and personal, were nonexistent. It was just me, a few cups of coffee, and the pale orange couch on the corner. At least until I got enough of a caffeine rush to rally my cutthroat sales team, because I needed to pay for the Tiffany’s ring, the Burberry Coat, and the European winter vacation, otherwise known as some of this month’s purchases. On impulse, I ditched my usual espresso in favor of the more calming cappuccino. I didn’t even realize I had closed my eyes, my first sip already working wonders on my frazzled nerves, until I opened them, and there he was. 

     “Hi Trisha”...” he’d said something else, but I miss the next few words. Staring at those earnest, slightly disconcerting eyes. Just like in college. Bringing back a flood of memories that left me slightly confused.

    “Alex.” My tone was warm. “Will you join me for coffee?” I felt a twinge of guilt at the surprised look on his face, before he flashed a big smile and flopped down on the seat across from me. Apart from getting a law degree, he hadn’t changed much. He was the same caring person, involved in half a dozen causes, none of which had himself as a beneficiary. And he could still make me laugh. His eyes drew me in. I saw myself in them as he saw me; not as the stressed out sales executive with the plastered smile, or even the bitchy cheerleader I once was, but just Trisha, as he first met me; the nice girl who lived next door. Back when I liked myself, when I was happy, and capable of making others happy. 

    "Live, Dream, Be...” the words screamed in my head as I read them off the cheery shop wall directly behind Alex. My gaze return to where I had just tore them away. He was looking at me just like he used to, all those years ago. Another sip of my 

bittersweet brew silenced the warning bells I heard from a distance.

  “I still think about you Trisha.” It was all I needed. We left together. It was quick, and wrong, and sordid. In his car, parked in the deserted lot of the nearby cemetery that autumn afternoon, just like in college, I laid to rest the last decent memory of the nice girl I used to be. As we straightened our clothes, our eyes met. It felt different somehow. I guess my self image was not the only casualty. Oh well. At least, it was a good fuck. Fast, and hard, and kinda rough. 

     The drive back to my car was quiet. Our goodbye had been said years ago, on my wedding day. Just like today, it was a Friday. I had a thing about Fridays.

     His car stopped perfectly beside mine. Without a backward glance, I jumped into my car and drove off. I was shaking as I drove. The clouds were starting to clear. For the first time in months, I let myself think of my husband, Edward. Right on cue, there was a damn sunset. Everyone said we were the perfect couple until he left six months ago. We were very civil. Very reasonable. I didn’t even ask why. From our big bay window, I just watched him drive off. The stupid sunset was making me cry. That taught me a lot. I’d never wanted so greatly, needed so desperately or failed so spectacularly. Suddenly, illogically, I was mad. The least Edward could do was give me answers. “Live, Dream, Be...” the words were stuck in my head. My foot pressed against the accelerator as I sped past my house. I drove for what felt like hours then skidded to a stop in front of the little log cabin where my husband now choose to stay. Just as I remembered, the key was still under the mat.

  “I slept with Alex.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. For about a second I felt a grim satisfaction at the hurt look that crossed his face. Then the floodgates opened. In the five years we’d been married, we’d hardly ever argued. We’d certainly never screamed at each other. We did so now. In language that neither of us knew we possessed; there were years worth of accusations, questions, confessions, and declarations. In the middle of it all, I noticed the unmistakable smell of coffee. He’d been making it when I barged in. The bastard had a cappuccino maker. For some reason, this more than anything else made me burst into tears.

  “I’m sorry, Trish.” It was barely a whisper. 

     “Me too.” I finally had my answers. They were reflected in Edward’s big brown eyes. 

  What happened next caught both of us by surprise. Not that we made love, but how... so gentle, and unhurried. Without thought or care for what came after. Like it used to be before our endless quest for perfection seeped in. In me, it awakened something I thought could not be reclaimed. Once again, I am living in the moment, learning to both love and let go. Of useless hurts and old obsessions, of everything and nothing. I am making peace with the scars in my heart, the screaming in my head and all the baggage I have carried far, far too long. Perhaps it is a new beginning. Perhaps it is a final goodbye. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Now caught between sleep and residual bliss. I am happy. I don’t even need a damn cappuccino.

Lucinda's Complexities

(Character Sketch from one of my projects - feedback welcome)

      

        Lucinda Marisa Evangeline Rose will talk your ear off any chance she gets. To be fair, it’s extremely rare for her to get an audience. Hardly anyone in town talks to Lucinda. Stories of her weird family, her odd appearance, lack of social graces, and penchant for tall tales have conspired to make her unpopular in most circles. Consequently, she usually spends her afternoons staring out the window of the tidy little box house she shares with her two elderly, spinster aunts.

Lonely as it sometimes can get, the bright pink house with its collection of figurines and cross-stitched artwork is a haven to its youngest inhabitant. Her sparsely furnished bedroom provides a space where she can ponder life’s complexities and her seeming inability to forge relationships with those around her. It was also where she came to dream. It was her escape from the nightmare of an abusive childhood and more recently, the less than welcoming environment at the exclusive private college her aunts insisted she attend. 

“We were laughing the whole time and he kept staring into my eyes,” Lucinda told her aunts the one time she had gone out on a date. “It was so much fun.” In truth, her pretty little schoolmate had set her up with an unsuspecting ex-boyfriend out of spite. But at 22, it was the only date she’d ever gone on. That night, Lucinda kept bursting into nervous giggles while Prince Charming stared in disbelief at the mousy little chatterbox he’d ended up with. She was barely five feet tall, slightly overweight, had messy dull brown hair, thick, pink-rimmed glasses, and just wouldn’t shut up. The childish cartoon T-shirt, pale orange skort, and comfortable blue flats that she’d chosen to wear to the theatre that night didn’t help either. Her rose perfume reminded him of his grandmother’s potpourri. Of course, she never heard from Gary again, except in her overactive imagination. 

In her imagination, everything went right. In it, Lucinda re-created each day and made her life much more exciting and colorful. There, everyone in town wanted to be her friend, she wore sexy designer outfits instead of the old-fashioned clothes her aunts bought her, and she and Gary were practically engaged.

Every afternoon she stared out the window and saw, heard, and felt her life as she believed it should’ve been. It was increasingly seductive, achingly familiar, but the minute reality stepped in, truly scary. 

       Snapped out of her beautiful daydream, Lucinda would scramble to face her unpleasant reality. She’d venture into town, hoping for a familiar face or a friendly stranger with whom she could interact- someone, something that could strengthen her fragile hold on her sanity. Unfortunately, no one would want to listen to her boring life, so Lucinda embellished the truth quite a bit...she had to. 

In My Cell...

Hmmm... I was upset when I wrote the below... much better now due to the post script.


I like swirls better than circles. At least the path seems slightly different and it usually ends... somehow. I like neat little packages... yes, tied up with strings would be a good thing. Yet the pretty paper can never quite hide the grey that peeks behind the sunshine. The edge on the horizon of that laugh. When do you know when you're done? When the brainless work turns into a semblance of a career you never wanted? When you feel like a little hamster running on a wheel that never gets anywhere? When you dread the weekend because you spend it worrying about the same stuff you do all week... wait, you don't get weekends. When you cry more than the person telling you the sob story, you have the monopoly of horrible dreams and you can't stop screaming (of course, the last one is silent and in your head... otherwise you'd be in an actual asylum instead of the virtual one that is called your job). Nevertheless, you are in a cell. 

Someone from that place once said something about the truth being on the horizon... my question was, why wasn't it here and now? Perhaps it was, hidden behind a pile of checklists and numbers that quantified what each little clone was worth. Perhaps it was, rendered invisible by the garish florescent lighting and endless drone of the high and mighty idiots.... who really should not have been given a license to think. Perhaps it was, inside all along... wondering why I stayed. Why I was bought so easily by trinkets and change. 

The realization that I've tossed a few years, is a hard pill to swallow. Sometimes stepping back out into what could be a storm is a daunting task. However, the alternative is the never ending ringing, beeping, buzzing and droning of the stupid... on daily conference calls, text messages, visual voicemails, emails and all other media made possible... In mY cELL.


P. S.            As of this week, I am no longer in retail bondage... I am now out of my cell!!! 


P. P. S.      I also no longer have that phone.

Edible Art...

Two of my favorite things... well mostly the edible part. But I saw them on her facebook page and could not help myself. The talented baker is Tommy's cousin Vidis (she took baking classes in Mexico so the cakes are bilingual... haha). We joined the rest of his family in Monterey for a relaxing couple of days, and I got a chance to chat with Vidis and have her tell little stories about her wonderful creations. Here's some of them:

Channel - If you've got the shoes, purse and perfume... who wouldn't love a matching cake?....

I-Cake... I hear it gets better reception than the phone and you can eat it too!

Told you... bilingual cakes and a degree (in any field you want) comes with the cake... Happy Graduation Cousin Phil! :)

The little figurine on top is handmade from candy and is edible too. In fact, she had a boyfriend but someone ate him.




Vi, we had a lot of fun hanging out with you and the family. Have had a couple of people ask how they can order cakes from you. Had to break their heart and tell them you are currently not in good old California. 

Scribbles...

Just finished reading a wonderful post from Life in the Expat Lane. First the article had me laughing out loud because it was funny, then it had me laughing rather hysterically because I have writer's block and can't write (who gets writer's block on the second line, of the first paragraph, of a short story... really).  Anyway, realizing that I sound like a crazy person, I took a deep breath, pictured the water on my beautiful Monterey bay and am now willing the sailboat in the picture to take me away. On a brighter note, how was your 4th of July celebration? Saturday, we watched the fireworks display and caught the midnight showing of Eclipse (it was my husband's idea, I swear). Sunday, we spent the day at the beach with my mother-in-law and niece Delinah. Thank God we spent the night, because Monday morning, Tommy's mom whipped up the best breakfast in the world. I woke up to the smell of bacon, eggs, potatoes, tortillas, coffee, chili cheese soup with tomatoes, jalapenos and big chunks of white cheese. I'm gaining weight just thinking about it, but that breakfast, put a smile on my face that lasted all day. It's now Tuesday, and again I'm smiling because I just remembered that sitting in my refrigerator is the best cake in the world. A fluffy chocolate chiffon with coffee cream frosting baked by my wonderful Aunt Bee. I guess thinking happy thoughts or in my case about food, does help because right now I'm not stressing over my writing. I realize of course that this post is far from polished (and I still do have a two sentence short story to finish) but this blog is about thoughts, feelings and conversations, not grammar and punctuations (though I am working on mine I promise). 

While I'm in a cheesy mood and not writing too well lately, I thought I'd at least post a photo of us at the beach. The figure to our left is of Delinah, busy scavenging for shells. Among the treasures she brought home were; a crab claw (taken from our dinner), and a picture of a permanently sleeping baby seal (who is now in seal heaven).