At Jess' Request...

1. Do you like blue cheese? I do. I would eat it on my cornflakes if it weren't so expensive.

2. Have you ever smoked heroin? Not since my stint in the Brownies. Those bitches run rough.

3. Do you own a gun? Nope. Neither of us wants one in the home. The cats are way too volatile.

4. What flavor do you add to your drink at Sonic? I have never been to Sonic, though commercials make it look like shake nirvana.

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? Not anymore, but I used to pass out at the lady doctor. They love that.

6. What do you think of hot dogs? I think they've been marginalized for far too long. Give them the vote, I say. It's time for the othering to stop.

7. Favorite Christmas movie? Three-way tie: Scrooged, Bad Santa, Home for the Holidays

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Cristal, but if that's not available, I'll take tea, I guess.

9. Can you do push ups? Can, youbetcha. Do, ohgodno.

10. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry? The crown jewels. Or my blue sapphire ring from Trace.

11. Favorite hobby? I like to pour myself a nice glass of wine, turn on some Tiny Tim and get to the business of building doll house furniture out of sausages, barley, and spit. You know, the usual.

12. Do you have A.D.D? What? Sorry, I was just about to...can you hold on a second? Thanks. What were you saying? Oh, I was? Well shit. I guess I --look at the pretty lights...

13. What is one trait you hate about yourself? I'm a huge judger and have very little empathy for people who allow themselves to be kicked around by their partners.

14. Middle name? Ellen. After my dad's first wife's sister. Would you like to set up my appointment with a therapist, or shall I?

15. What is your favorite TV show or movie? TV Show: Bret Michael's Whorific Circus Sideshow, er, "Rock of Love" and all its endless derivations. Movie: "The Right Stuff"

16. Name 3 things you bought yesterday. Draino, mayonnaise, and cat litter. Hey! It's the holidays. You celebrate your way...

17. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink. Tea, juice, and unsettled jell-o

18. Current worry? That it's wrong to still have a thing for Heath Ledger, considering he's, well, you know

19. Current hate right now? OH GOD. That terrible commercial with the rabbit that horrifyingly morphs into a running robot dog thing. FUCK YOU, YOU CREEPY RABBITTY BASTARD

20. Favorite place to be? In front of Jeff Bridges' zipper

21. Where would you like to go? To your house. Say, Thursday around 6?

22. Name three people who will complete this? Mickey Rourke, Don Rickles, and Duff McKagan. They're huge followers of this blog. I mean, who isn't?

24. What shirt are you wearing? My Keith Richards for President shirt. Pictured here.

25. What year would you go back in time to? 1988. It was Designing Women's best year.

26. Can you whistle? Not even a little.

27. Favorite color? 1970s orange

28. Would you be a pirate? Wait a second, Survey Writer. Are you asking if I would like to be a real pirate or a movie pirate? The reason I ask is that Johnny Depp's Jack Sparrow would have been passed around a real pirate ship like a lollipop in Oliver's orphanage. None for me, thanks.

29. Favorite girl’s name? Maude Margaret

30. Favorite boy’s name? David Discretion

31. Last thing you dreamed about? Flikka could talk. She was still a cat, but she had a lot to say about how we run the household. I made myself wake up.

32. What’s in your pocket right now? Nothing. I have only the wish for pockets on my pajamas at the moment.

33. Last thing that made you laugh? Clayton's status message that reads: "Thanks to peripheral vision & the breakfast food aisle, I thought for a moment that Post came out with a new cereal called 'Just Bitches'." Beautiful.

34. Best Halloween costume? My personal best was this year's Marge Gunderson from "Fargo"

35. Worst injury you’ve ever had? Broken heart

36. Do you like where you live? I do. I could live without the self-congratulatory smugness this area lends itself to sometimes, but overall Portland kicks booty.

37. How many TVs do you have in your house? 2

38. Who is your loudest friend? Oh hands down. Terry. Jesus wept. His "whisper" makes my eardrum shake its head in disgust.

39. How many dogs do you have? I have three in my head. In reality, though, they're cats.

40. Does someone have a crush on you? Man, I hope so. The wedding could get awkward if he doesn't.

41. What is your favorite book(s)? "I Like You" by Amy Sedaris, "1984" by George Orwell, and "James and the Giant Peach" by Roald Dahl

42. What is your favorite candy? Snowcaps, and for some reason the movie houses around here are major Snowcaps bigots. It makes me sad.

43. Favorite Sports Team? Detroit Red Wings

44. Favorite Sports? Hockey, gymnastics, lion taming

45. What were you doing 12 AM last night? Reading my new book from Turbo

46. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? I would like to continue reading my new book from Turbo.

Roles of a Lifetime

Sometimes I get off the beaten path and tend to lose focus about where I'm headed or what I'm doing to get there. I say sometimes when I mean yesterday, today, and tomorrow I do that. I live in the haze with blasts of clarity. Always interesting. Always motivating. One of the things that jars me back to center is my family and relationships. So, I took a moment to do an exercise this afternoon that helped jog my perspective back into joint.

While I don't know who I will be, let me tell you who I am:

I am Sooze, Matt, Russ' sister.
I am Tracie's sister by spirit.
I am Janel and Dave's sister-in-law.
I am Janice and David's daughter.
I am K's stepmother.
I am J's fiance.
I am Oscar, Lillian, Ruth, and Rupert's granddaughter.
I am Dawson, Ababu, and Lily's godmother.
I am Tim, Dawson, Violet, Ababu, Genevieve, Emma, Lily, Sierra, Dakota, Helena, Micah, Noah, Cabe, Quinn, Laura, Leah, Monkey, Devon, Colin, Kenny, and Tessa's aunt. So far.
I am the NPF's employee.
I am Jill, Lissa, and Crystal's moon sister.
I am NPR and Alzheimer's Association's contributing supporter.
I am Nicole, Ron, Christine, and Tracie's old roommate.
I am Silkie Madge, Rascal Reverend Jim, and Flikka's hairless monkey companion.
I am Craig, Rich, Terry's, and the Academy Awards', biggest fan, unashamedly.

It's easy at this time of year to begin to evaluate what happened in 2008 and what circumstances are leading to in 2009, but for me, I find a great deal of comfort in the immovable relationships that shift and grow, but remain fundamentally cemented in the mirror reflection, always at the ready to look back at you with a nod and a wink.

In honor of the Golden Globe Nominations...

This is a fun little game my friend posted on Facebook. I thought it would be a nifty and timely entry, considering the recent announcement of the Golden Globe nominations.

Here's how it works:

1. Pick 20 of your favorite movies (not necessarily nominated or released in the last year).
2. Go to IMDb and find a quote from each movie.
3. Post them for everyone to guess.
4. Strike it out when someone guesses correctly, and put who guessed it and the movie.
5. NO GOOGLING/using IMDb search functions.

My selections follow.

1. Monkeys? You think a monkey knows he's sittin' on top of a rocket that might explode? These astronaut boys they know that, see? Well, I'll tell you something, it takes a special kind of man to volunteer for a suicide mission, especially one that's on TV. Ol' Gus, he did all right.

"The Right Stuff" by Sooze

2. The suspense is terrible... I hope it'll last. "Willy Wonka" by Armisteads

3. You look so beautiful and peaceful, you almost look dead. And I'm glad, because there's something I want to say that's always been very difficult for me to say. "I slit the sheet, the sheet I slit, and on the slitted sheet I sit." There. I've never been relaxed enough around anyone to say that.

"The Jerk" by E

4. How do I look so young? Quite simple. A complete vegetable diet, twelve hours sleep a night, and *lots* and *lots* of makeup.

5. You've got a program featuring America's favorite old fart. Reading a book in front of a fireplace. Now, I have to kill all of you.

6. Then one day I hear "Reach for it, mister." I spun around, and there I was, standing face to face with a six-year-old kid. Well, I just laid down my guns and walked away... Little bastard shot me in the ass! So I limped to the nearest saloon, crawled inside a whiskey bottle, and I've been there ever since.

"Blazing Saddles" by Armisteads

7. Hey, nice marmot!

8. It's a crystal. Nothing more. But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams. But this is not a gift for an ordinary girl who takes care of a screaming baby.

"Labyrinth" by E

9. What? You pooped in the refrigerator? And you ate the whole... wheel of cheese? How'd you do that? Heck, I'm not even mad; that's amazing. How 'bout we get you in your p.j.'s and we hit the hay.

10. After my divorce from Luther I scraped by with baby-sitting gigs and odd jobs - mostly the jobs we call blow.

11. She had a Mount Rushmore t-shirt on, and those guys never looked so good. Especially Jefferson and Lincoln. Kind of bloated but happy.

12. Listen up, maggots. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.

13. Except my name. I'll give up all that other stuff, but only if I get to keep my name. I've worked too hard for it, your honor.

14. Now finish up them taters; I'm gonna go fondle my sweaters.

15. I guess you think I'm kicking you, Bob. But it ain't so. What I'm doing is talking, you hear? I'm talking to all those villains down there in Kansas. I'm talking to all those villains in Missouri. And all those villains down there in Cheyenne. And what I'm saying is there ain't no whore's gold. And if there was, how they wouldn't want to come looking for it anyhow.

16. Uh, I could do that sir, yeah. Yeah, I could do that I suppose. What I was thinking was I was going to ask Him if He could make me a bit lame in one leg during the middle of the week. You know, something beggable, but not leprosy, which is a pain in the ass to be blunt and excuse my French, sir.

"Life of Brian" by Armisteads

17. Yes. Yes, I did it. I killed Yvette. I hated her, so much... it-it- the f - it -flam - flames. Flames, on the side of my face, breathing-breathl- heaving breaths. Heaving breath...

18. That's pretty dangerous building a road in the middle of the street. I mean, if frogs couldn't hop, I'd be gone with the Schwinn.

19. Listen, if you didn't know you're bein' scammed, you're too fuckin' dumb to keep this job. If you did know, you were in on it. Either way, you're out. Get out! Go on. Let's go.

"Casino" by E

20. Neighbors bring food with death, and flowers with sickness, and little things in between. Boo was our neighbor. He gave us two soap dolls, a broken watch and chain, a knife, and our lives.

"To Kill a Mockingbird" by Armisteads

Captain Quirk

Yesterday was my nephew Dawson's 15th birthday. While that number gives me the dry heaves, it's also a testament to my memory that I'm able to recall things from 15 years ago with utmost clarity. He was my first godchild of many to come. Tim was a novelty because he was my first niece/nephew type person, so he had broken me in on the baby lovins front, but Dawson came with his own brand of untamed cuteness in an entirely too small package. He wasn't born prematurely, but may as well have been. He lost a pound from the time of his birth to when he was allowed to come home two days later. For those of us without kid experience, that's about a Load.5, metrically speaking. We were worried.

Regardless of how small and fragile he was, I was able to hold him while my mom entertained Tim in the hallway and my sister underwent some ghastly (no doubt) procedure behind drawn curtain. So, it was just him and me. I could feel his tiny spine in my left palm as I turned him to look at me. He was so light and pale that I wanted to pack him away inside my coat to make sure he was warm enough, regardless of his little hospital issue baby blanket burrito and beanie. When I told him that we had been waiting for him and we loved him, he opened his eyes. His giant eyes. I know that kids that young have no control over their smiling equipment just yet, but I would absolutely swear that he did. He smiled crookedly and with intent. Apparently he'd been waiting for us too.

I'm close with each of my nephews and nieces in our own ways, and I love them deeply and without reservation, but this one. Well, this one. Let's just say I'm glad he came to the party and brought the sass punch...

The Tree

Every December from the time I can remember, I would ask when we're going to get the tree. Without fail, Dad would answer "We're not getting one." No explanations. No excuses. No context whatsoever. Just "Don't get your hopes up." On and on the begging would go. It was like some kind of primitive torture you would use on a POW Christmas elf you kept in the cellar. "No No, Elfie Saggins, we're not getting a tree this year. Maybe next. Keep your tiny fingers crossed."

He was completely merciless. He even told people outside the family that we weren't getting a tree. If a neighbor stopped by on December 20th and noted the conspicuous absence of evergreen cheer, Dad would say "No, we decided not to get one this year. Too much trouble." I could feel the color drain from my face when the neighbor would reply "What a great idea! I wish we could get away with not getting one." I would recoil in horror at the Scroogey condoning of this tree bigotry and slowly retreat to my room, making sure to never turn my back on these Christmas poo-pooers in the process.

How could we not have a tree? To me, the tree was a visible symbol of our whole family. I was born 14 years after my sister and 10 years after my oldest brother, so the only sibling who was a constant in my life and in the house was Matt, and we managed to make Sibling Rivalry cower in the corner and cry itself to sleep at night with our vivid fighting and relentless teasing. For two weeks out of the year, the tree stood there with all four of our sibling ornaments that meant we're brothers and sisters, David and Janice's children, regardless of age or location.

We had to have a tree.

Every year he did this. Every single year. And every time I felt the sincerity in his voice when he said no and wondered if this would be the year he would go through with it and we really wouldn't have one. But each December 23rd or 24th, he would go out to the garage and bring in the most beautiful, carefully chosen, tall and mighty tree he could find that year. I could see the marks where he meticulously cut the branches off the bottom so that there were still plenty of prime ornament spaces, but just enough room for me (the smallest) to belly crawl to the holder each morning and keep the water at a safe level.

After we let the tree get used to the temperature in the house and open up a bit, Russ would string the lights on it while I brought up all of the ornaments from the basement. There were four things that had to happen in a set order before we could declare game on and hang ornaments at will. First, Russ would put the angel Mom made of her ribbon roses on the highest branch that Dad had whittled to a safe perch for her . The second order of business was the first item of decoration on the body of the tree: a small paper Jesus that was from our grandma's tree who would sit front and center nestled in the branches. The first official ornament was a Michigan State Ornament that Bill Carr hung as near the angel as possible. We didn't quite revere MSU as much as little Jesus, but it was up there. And the final step in the tree ritual would be the official sibling ornaments. When each of us were born, Mom had an ornament made, a large metallic ball with our name on it, in different colors. Sooze's was blue, Russ' was green, Matt's was silver, and mine was gold. Matt's was the biggest. Every year we heard that his was the biggest. Whose was the biggest, you ask? Matt's. It was with great care that we picked out our spots on the tree. They would hang in descending birth order, which was cool because mine usually ended up next to Jesus, and that was prime real estate as far as I was concerned. Once the sibling balls were placed, all other ornaments could then be hung.

The finishing touch of the tree was the tinsel. Mom showed me that while you could fling the tinsel with abandon, it might be better to hang each strand one at a time--best to avoid looking like the Christmas tree at the Bunny Ranch that way. She and I would finish what had been a long journey of wonder and worry. We had a Christmas tree. And it was perfect.

After Dad died, we all made incredible adjustments to our holiday celebrations and traditions, and just now seem to be settling into a groove that makes sense and keeps the joy alive. J and I go to Matt and Janel's family to celebrate, Russ flies to Michigan to be with Mom for the season, and Sooze's family keeps Christmas their way in Maine.

It's been three years since I've had an evergreen tree. I say it's because I don't want the kitties to get at the ornaments, or because it costs too much, or we don't have enough space, but the truth is that I'm still not ready for it. In an effort to make sure I can still show off our wonderful family ornament history that Mom carefully preserved, we display them in a different sort of way that makes sense to us. J creates an incredible "tree" on the wall where I can hang my ornaments. It still means a great deal, and it's sufficiently unique enough to allow me to keep Christmas in the present while acknowledging Christmases past.

Last week I was in my office when one of my co-workers stopped by to ask if we'd already put up our tree this year. Inexplicably I heard myself saying "Oh, we're not going to have one this year."

"Really? Why not?"

"Too much trouble."

"Wow. I don't think we could not have one for the kids. But you're right, they are a lot of trouble."

"Yeah, they are."

And I have to admit there was a little bit of satisfaction when they walked away with a perplexed expression of surprise wondering if I was really serious or not.

I was not.

All aboard the Friend Ship. Wooo Wooo!

J and I were talking at lunch this afternoon about some plans that I made tonight to watch the terrible, yet delicious, "Rock of Love Charm School" with my friend Turbo, when J made the sweet, but seemingly offhand comment, "You have nice friends". And it struck me. I do. I do have wonderful, kind, good-hearted, funny, considerate, delightful friends. They're all shapes and colors on four different continents and each one is a character in his or her own way, but they are all "nice friends".

This was not always the case.

The friendships I'm so fortunate to have are products of hard work and lots of deep belly laughs. They've seen me through the darkest, scariest times of my life, and I try my best to be there, at least in spirit and in words when they need a love crutch to lean on. In some cases, love interests have turned into deep platonic friendships that would never have blossomed if they were just part of a long line of failed dating attempts. But others who could either not keep their drama in check, or who intentionally worked at being really awful, if entertaining, people have gone by the cold, muddy wayside with haste.

I don't find it upsetting that a lot of my friends live far away from the possibility of a kitchen table tea date. Each time I talk to them on the phone, or hear from them in e-mail, it's just like we had lunch that afternoon and are catching up on our evening plans. No gaps. No sadness. Just connection and warmth.

The only time I feel funky twinges is when I see pictures of their kids. For instance, it's uncool that I don't get to give my Micah (oh there's a story there) a hug every day and read him a bedtime story, or have him read me a story with all of his reading prowess these days, but I get regular updates from his mom and know that he still loves his Aunt Sheila as much as I love his wee self. When I moved to Oregon, his goodbye was my hardest to give. He didn't make it any easier when he said "Aunt Sheila when you come back and see a big boy behind my mom, that boy will be me, okay?" Ouch. All I could muster was "Okay, Monkey. I'll look for him."

And he was right. Last May when I visited friends and family, there was a giant kid where my little Monkey used to be. But we hadn't missed a beat. He was still my Micah friend.

This spring it's looking promising that I'll be able to speak to one of my dearest friend's college organization, and I couldn't be more excited. She has two gorgeous girls, the youngest of whom I've yet to smother with Auntie lovins, and while we haven't seen each other in far too many years, I know it will be like we're still sharing a room and all our secrets at college all over again.

I have nice friends. I hope they know they have me, too.

My Christmas In Five Senses (if I had my druthers)

Hearing



from

Taste

Busche de Noel cake

Smell

Incense at Midnight Mass

Sight



George C. Scott's Scrooge is foretold of three visitors

Touch

Warm fuzzies