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2004-12-01 - time to get back here

Are people still writing about Thanksgiving? Because I�d like to. I had a really special one, and also sad, as my family back home passed the phone around and said a meager hello. I think they�re forgetting what I look like. I told my Dad that I miss my Mom a lot this year, I think it must be the seven year itch. He felt the same way, but then he wasn�t bawling like I was. He said why don�t you come home some more, not just in December. Everyone misses you. I said ok but when we hung up I was crying even more. That set the standard for a lot more tears the entire weekend. I really did have a great holiday though, I ate a lot of durian at the durian party and later at night I made some other stuff for this other raw gig. Don�t ask me what it was, I called it Ginger Frost and it was a big hit with the ladies. Probably because I was emotional when I made it, and was thinking of family and men. The other thing I made was wasabi guacamole that I first made for Mick and me one night out of antsyness. He liked it so I said screw it, I�ll do it. It�s nice to see your creations go into someone�s belly. It�s like impregnating them. I felt a warm feeling from the large extended family I�ve cultivated here. Bunch of characters too.

Also, I think I�m turning into a California nightmare. Notions that used to seem a little too fluffy for me are making just a dab of sense. I�m not at all as emotionally shut down as I used to be, and I enjoy crying in front of people a lot more. One example is that I think people are buying way too much stuff, myself included. Like, who cares? I also find myself listening to people talk and I wonder what their soul�s purpose is for being here. Any music that involves people bragging about material wealth or scoring sexually, and I feel lonely. Maybe I�m turning into a Christian.

Some new topics that maybe those guys could sing about:

1) How and why grab bags became part of Christmas party traditions.
2) Why most people dislike fruitcakes, but they are still a holiday favorite.
3) Why quiche and pigs in a blanket were very popular foods in the 70�s, but no one much serves them now, except for health food cafes and art receptions, respectively.
4) Where the bitches are actually at.

There was this one AA group that I used to go to, and every year a bunch of girls/women would go to another California location for the weekend leading up to Christmas. I hated it. This one year we went to a dutch town that was very cute, especially if you were my grandmother or anyone in her age bracket. We were all supposed to bring a $10 dollar gift and put it in the grab bag circle. Then on the last night all the girls opened them one at a painful time. I didn�t want to open any of these guy�s ten dollar numbers and I definitely didn�t want to come up with one. But I did, and I think it included a Xmas cd that no one would listen to, a distorted Christmas ornament/hair clip, and choco chip cookies that I made all by myself, stackwrapped carefully in foil. They were really good, and in order that I wouldn�t eat any I ate a bunch the night before until I was sick, plus dough. I wanted my present to stand out under the tree, as I was sure that someone would pick it first, looking so interesting like it did. I had this black stretchy nylon shirt I never wore and it was thick material, almost like rubber. Great material for a present. I hacked it up until it resembled wrapping paper and tied the gift items up in it, triple knotted at the top, you bet I did. If you picked the thing up by the knot(s), the whole thing would bounce. It looked like a really big person does when s/he wears spandex shorts and runs.

Anyway, back to the tree, as the night wore painfully on, and each of us picked a present, guess which present wasn�t getting picked for the team? It wasn�t the brilliant red and green shiny star studded bags with fluffs of tissue paper hanging out, and you know it wasn�t the MERRYXMASMERRYXMASMERRY wrapping paper presents. It was my little black Velveteen present, and not one person saw its true promise that I knew it had. They actually made fun of it. I almost got into a fight. No one makes fun of my baby. Plus, it was fine, they didn�t have to eat the cookies that I painstakingly made by hand.

Nope, the lumpy satchel sat. It sat and sat and sat until there were only two presents left: My little pal, and a very obvious large candy cane wrapped in red wrapping paper, which was ripped because the candy poked through it. No one wanted that. Candy canes are annoyingly abundant in December, and all the girls knew it.

But then came Sue, who was one of my heroes. Someone made another snide remark about my baby.

�Tell me you�re not gonna pick that black blob, Sue. Ha ha.�

Ha ha ha, that�s not funny.

Imagine, my beloved creation, a blob! I said nothing, but looked over at the little guy. He did look sad, but he was what he was. And I loved him. Then Sue said

�Fuck yeah, I�m gonna pick the black bag. Big deal.�

And she got up and plucked that thing up proudly like only a mother who was desperate for adoption could. Naturally now everyone wanted to know what was in it. She held it, laughing a little as it bounced, and when she sat back down I gave her instructions on how to open it properly. I told her don�t you dare give those cookies out to these hags. They didn�t know how to treat the little lumpy ones. Not surprisingly, I left that group and Sue is the only one I still stay in touch with.

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