My throat hurts. It’s my fault. I screamed through the UGA hockey game tonight.
The Ice Dogs were in town for the annual tournament against UF and GaTech, and totally beat up on Tech tonight. This tournament introduced me to hockey three years ago, and although I rarely get an opportunity to see hockey games, I really enjoy them. Tonight was even more fun because UGA won, and ended Tech’s four year winning streak.
To add to the festivities, we went with a very fun couple, and had VIP passes for free food and beverage. And tickets. A very fun night indeed, and didn’t cost a penny! Go dawgs!
Last night, just as I was falling asleep, Lee whispered, “Look out the window.” I opened my eyes and all I could see was the glaring light that always pours into our window from the neighbor’s house next door. He said, “This is the last night you’ll have to see that.”
Today, our neighbors moved. They decided Savannah was too rough for them, and they wanted to move back up to north Georgia. They wanted to be self-proclaimed white trash, and plan to “get a trailer and live on some acres.” Farewell!
No more late night drunken singing in the backyard. No more early morning shrieking because they can’t find their dog. No more hoards of teenagers cursing in the back alley.
I haven’t met the new neighbor yet, so who knows, I guess he could be worse. Maybe he’ll leave his lights on all night too. But I choose to be optimistic, and hope that the new neighbor fits in better with our other neighbors: kind, watchful, and quiet.
I did my first ever yoga class today, and I really liked it. I wasn’t necessarily seeking a yoga class, it was the only class offered today at a time I could manage.
At first, it was really intimidating. I walked in a few minutes late, and was surprised by how quiet it was. The instructor had a candle burning behind her, and taped sounds of chirping birds filled the hollow room. I tiptoed to a spot on the floor and hoped no one would notice I was new.
We “practiced” several yoga positions that were great for stretching out every inch of muscle in my body. I think it’s funny that the instructor kept saying we were “practicing” the positions – was there a test later? A competition? Why all the praciticing? I learned quickly that I would like to bring my own mat. Several positions have you lying facedown on the floormat, and mine smelled like feet. Not cool.
We did lots of stretching, then spent a long time just relaxing. Several people brought blankets. I didn’t, but the instructor loaned me an eye pillow filled with scented beads to block out light. We did several techniques to reach total relaxation. It was kind of cheesy, but the instructor was trying to help us find “inner peace.” I don’t know if I found inner peace, but I do know it was great to spend time just being quiet and still. What a novel idea! Even when I’m being quiet and still watching TV, my mind is distracted. But during this class, you’re encouraged to be relaxed and still, but keep your mind active.
I was hoping to go to classes at my gym that would help me get in shape. I don’t know if yoga really burns calories or anything, but I’m convinced it’s worth my time. It’s like you’re treating your body, focusing on yourself for a little while.
When you step outside, it’s hard to believe it’s January. The weather is warm, even the breezes are warm – so warm I find myself thinking about sandals and the beach. It’s supposed to hit 79 degrees today. I know it won’t last, and I love cold weather, but I must admit this weekend has been really nice.
I’m excited about the new year. I liked the old one, and I hope 2004 will be equally good. On New Year’s Day, I ate lunch at a Chinese restaurant and my fortune cookie said, “Good news will come from far away.” These days, that is a very exciting idea. 2004 could be an interesting year.
In 12 hours, I’ll be back to the grind.
The holidays are nearly over, and they’ve been really great. I’m sad to see them go. They began Dec. 23rd, when Lee and I opened our presents to each other. I got several wonderful gifts, but best of all was a book he’d published with all my gummibunny entries from the past year. He included photos, and wrote an introduction so beautiful I couldn’t believe he was talking about me. I am a lucky girl. He amazes me.
Christmas Eve was a bit crazy at first. I had to get to work early and stay late, so it didn’t really feel like a holiday. But once we got to Fitzgerald and had some traditional oyster stew, followed by a reading of the Christmas story, my mood began to lift.
Christmas morning was fun, with great presents and wrapping paper piled several feet high. Millie was her usual self, getting into everything but being terribly cute about it. We visited some of Lee’s family in Moultrie, then headed to Macon to see my folks. It was great to see everyone again, and to enjoy the traditional Christmas night bonfire.
The next day, my parents, brother, and Michelle headed to Savannah to spend the weekend with us. We had a great time doing everything from eating Mexican food and going to a movie, to playing board games and making martinis. Today, we went to the beach, played putt-putt, and checked out the gorgeous decorations in the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. Stunning.
Mom and Dad left just a little while ago. I was sad to see them leave. Now, I’m heading to bed and trying not to dwell on the fact that I have to work tomorrow. Or dwell on the fact that when my mom asked me, “When is the next day you have off?” I couldn’t answer. Didn’t know.
That’s okay though. A new year is starting soon. The current one has been great, really great. I see no reason why this one can’t also bring wonders.
I settled in for my ride home after work, and tuned my radio to the local station playing 24-7 Christmas carols. I love the old traditional Christmas songs. They make me happy. A song was ending, and the radio host was singing “Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” slightly off-pitch. Then she said, “Is Christmas merry for you? Do you enjoy the holidays? Or do you just want to put your fingers in your ears to block out the noise of the world…”
Click.
I had to turn the radio off. This local station plays a nationally syndicated radio show in the evenings, and I hate it. Half of the songs are sad songs about sad people with sad lives, and there isn’t much about “Joy to the world,” or even “Jingle Bell Rock.”
A few days later, I gave it another try. I tuned in on another trip home from work, only to hear her say, “…and the media has us all so freaked out about the flu! On top of all the other holiday pressures you just spend every night tossing and turning, getting up every few hours and pacing. Well, we’re here for you…”
Click.
This woman treats Christmas like a disease. Before you know it, I’ll call in to work one morning, and tell my boss, “I can’t make it in today. I have a bad case of Christmas and don’t want to spread it to anyone else.” Expectant parents will say, “We don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl, we just hope it doesn’t have Christmas.” The nation will run out of the Christmas vaccine. Entire self-help novels will be dedicated to the subject, “Christmas: Don’t Let it Happen To You.”
Now I choose to tune in to that station during the day, when I’m likely to hear uplifting songs about letting it snow and about chestnuts roasting. I’m going to avoid the evening syndicated show like the plague. I don’t want her bad Christmas vibes to become contagious.
In my opinion, a real Christmas tree is the only way to go. Fake trees are just — fake. Real trees look better, and I love the way they smell. My family had a fake tree for several years (I call those The Dark Years). We even bought a can of “Christmas Tree” scented air freshener to spray on the tree, and it just didn’t do the trick.
Lee, on the other hand, dreads getting our real Christmas tree every year. I think he enjoys the tree once it’s up, but every year he says we should just get a fake tree because real trees are so much hassle. So every year, I try to make getting a real tree simple to prove to him that it’s better than a fake tree. Every year, something seems to go wrong.
This year, we went to one lot, and the trees were pretty but really pricey. We decided to patronize the Lion’s Club lot, where the trees are cheaper and our money helps someone. They were practically wiped out of trees, but a volunteer followed us around, picking up trees to help us choose. With him tagging along, it would’ve been impossible to whisper, “These trees are scrawny, let’s go somewhere else,” and quietly leave. And in my effort to keep things simple, I didn’t want to drag Lee to a third tree lot. So we picked a tree that was green and fat but very short, and tied it to the roof of the car.
So it wasn’t the best Christmas tree ever, but it was cheap and for charity. At home, Lee got out the tree stand and we managed to get the tree standing upright and stable fairly quickly. I filled the stand with water, then went out to our garage to grab the tree skirt, marveling at how well things were going. On my way, I fell down the back steps and nearly twisted my ankle. This was no mere stumble. I was actually on my butt in the grass at the bottom of the steps. I shook it off.
Back inside, I began sweeping around the tree so I could put the skirt down when I saw a large puddle nearby. At first, I thought one of the animals tried to mark the tree or something, until I bent closer and realized water was seeping from beneath the tree stand. There was a leak somewhere.
This was practially my worst Christmas tree nightmare. Two years ago, we had a horrible tree stand experience that resulted in us going through three tree stands in one night. That year, Lee was forced to hold the Christmas tree up for hours while I went out shopping twice for a new stand, and he was stuck listening to a poor selection of Christmas Carols during a depressing radio show. If I wanted to prove to Lee this year that real trees are great, having a problem with the tree stand was not going to help.
We dragged the tree and stand outside, and I headed to Wal-Mart to buy a nearly identical tree stand. Now the tree is upright again, and the stand doesn’t appear to be leaking. We don’t have lights or ornaments on it yet, but really, I think it’s a good looking tree. Short, yes, but still pretty and green. And very fragrant.
I still think real trees are better. And I guess it’s a testament to his love for me that Lee continues to let me get one every year, even if it always invites trauma.
My work Christmas party was last night. There was good food and good company. However, combine alcohol and karaoke, and get frightening results. Neither Lee nor I really particpated in that, thank goodness. I got roped into singing the chorus of American Pie with a bunch of other people, but I bowed out before the second verse.
I did get to dance with my adopted baby girl Nia, and that was fun.
Now, if only UGA didn’t have to knock my weekend down a notch with a terrible loss to LSU. Ugly. Ugly. I still love my dawgs, but tonight they were tiger bait.
I was that tourist – the one walking around with my mouth open and my eyes skyward, marveling at all that is New York City. The trip was great, and the city was amazing.
After months of searching the internet for the best hotel deal, we lucked out with a reasonably priced boutique hotel that was right in the middle of everything. A quick walk got us to Times Square in one direciton, and Central Park in the other. I loved the lights and energy of Times Square. I loved the peace and serenity of Central Park. Big thanks are due to the bright soul with the foresight to protect that land, because it must be such prime real estate. But it’s wonderful to be in the middle of the city, then slip into this wonderful wooded park where the car horns are muted but the skyscrapers are still visible.
I loved the subway. Each time we rode it, I enjoyed climbing up the stairs at our latest destination and wondering what the city at the top of the stairs would look like. In a car, you watch the scenery change. In the subway, every trip had a surprise ending.
We got to see some old friends, see a concert, see a play, and eat some great food. I have never walked so much in my life, but that made me feel better about ordering the cheesecake.
Such a great city, and with such wonderful company.
We need a U-Haul for all the stuff we’re packing for NY. My problem is that I’m so unsure of what I’ll need, so I feel the need to bring everything.
I have never felt quite so much like a backwoods southern girl. I really don’t think I am, but packing for NY has made me feel like one. I’ve watched way too many episodes of Sex in the City, and I feel like if I don’t have on a $300 pair of shoes and a $500 purse, everyone will laugh at me. I can imagine Lee and I waiting for a table in some nice restaurant, and everyone looking at me and grimacing.
It probably doesn’t help that I was getting a critique from a consultant at work, and she remarked about my “girl next door” look. She said, “you’ll never look like a sophisticated New Yorker.” Suddenly my freckles and tennis shoes and jeans seem very very rural.
I must remember that not everyone in NY is like Carrie Bradshaw, and it’s okay if I’m never going to be like Carrie Bradshaw. I’m me, from Savannah, and I’m going to have a good time in my tennis shoes.
