White Christmas

For the first time since I moved to California I finally got my white Christmas.  I had to go to Oregon to get and I missed seeing my family, but at least I got it.   And not just left over snow from the storm that dropped the most snow in 40 years; it actually snowed big fat snow flakes on Christmas day.  Beautiful.

And that storm that I mentioned?  It almost kept us familyless and presentless in Southern California.  Snow is okay to fly through; freezing rain, not so much.  All week we’d been watching weather forecasts for the Portland area to see if we would make to Wes’ home for Christmas.  All looked good for our Wednesday morning departure.  But then our plane was delayed and with the window of good weather being so small on that Christmas Eve, we were both a bit worried.  The plane finally arrived, about 30 minutes after we were scheduled to leave.  Shouts of glee from all passengers.

Queue suspenseful pause because we all know that things are hardly so simple.

Over the loudspeaker we hear, “Portland is closed due to freezing rain.  We will update you in 45 minutes.”

45 minutes crawl by as we wonder if we’re going to have to make a surprise trip to my aunt and uncle’s for the big day.  Luckily we didn’t have to worry about a back up plan.  Our flight crew was from the Portland area and wanted to get back there as much as the passengers did.  The captain, having just flown out of PDX, convinced the Santa Ana airport to let us leave.  It was, hands down, the fastest loading of a plane I have ever experienced.  There was no lollygagging at the overhead compartments; people shoved their bags in, sat down and buckled up and before you know it, we’re in the air.

We called Wes’ sister as soon as we landed to make sure that she and her family made it out for the celebration, which meant two days sleeping on a cot while her husband slept on the couch and the new baby slept in her pak and play.

Oh yes, the baby.  So cute.  Adorable chubby cheeks that seem so large compared to her tiny little hands and feet.  I wonder if that’s what people thought about me, My what large cheeks she has? Probably, they were huge.

She was such a quiet baby, crying only when she was hungry.  Everything about her was adorable – her stretching, yawning  and sneezing – or funny – farting.  The new dad forgot to put a diaper on her and she peed all over her grandma.  I’m just glad it wasn’t me because I’m not sure I would have been so calm about it.  I mean, no one likes getting peed on, but I think parents come to sort of expect that it happens once in a while.  I still haven’t wrapped my head around that.

Of course after being around a baby (any baby) and living with your boyfriend and being with said boyfriend for three years, the baby questions start coming.  “Don’t you want one?”  “Watch out Wes, she’s got baby fever.”  “What about you two?  Any time soon?”

No!  No!  and No!  Absolutely not any time soon.  Some people are made for young parenthood.  We are not those people.  We live in a tiny apartment in Southern California no where near our immediate family.  I like to hold babies and look at their cute hands and feet.  I like to let them sleep on my chest and buy them cute tiny shoes.  When they’re happy.  When they’re unhappy I like to do, um, none of those things.  I like to give them back to mom and dad when they scream and flail.  I emphatically do not want to be the mom.  I take steps to make sure that that’s a long way out.

Of course there were presents.  The main thing from Wes’ family was a Wii with just about every conceivable attachment one would ever need.  From my family there was the camping gear and bike shoes that I asked for.  And we’re so looking forward to camping every month this year.  To see all that we can of Southern California before we leave for good.

While I love visiting family (even if it’s not technically my family) I think the best part about any vacation is coming home.  They say home is where the heart is, but after this weekend I’m convinced that home is where your bed is.

Slow Day

Pretty much the whole of Washington and Oregon is shut down due to weather (read: lots and lots of snow), which means two things: 1) Since our HQ is in the Portland area and has been shut down, things are pretty slow at work; and 2) Since Wes and I fly into PDX tomorrow for Christmas festivities, we’re still unsure as to whether (weather!) or not we’ll make it there.

Just my luck that I’m always complaining about not having a white Christmas when I fly to cold weather states and this year there’s a practical white out which leaves my plans in jeopardy.

Tonight Wes and I will exchange some small stocking stuffers to get into the holiday spirit.  We plan on staying up until midnight, so at least we open them on Christmas Eve.  I guess what I really wanted to do was start our own traditions – even if it was just felt stockings and a few small gifts.  It’s still something that we can look back on in the years to come – our own celebration before the big one.

But seriously, the boy is very hard to shop for.  Not larger things, but the small stocking stuffer things.  Things that I think are fun and whimsical he would not understand.  For instance, he likes his butter spreadable so used to buy margarine.  I’m a butter user.  So he’s taken to buying smaller tubs of spreadable butter while I use the sticks.  One day while we were shopping I picked up a butter dish, thinking that it would be a good idea to get one to limit our butter buying and still keep his butter spreadable.  He did not understand why I would do that when the tub of butter was working perfectly fine for him.  And there have been a couple of gifts that I thought would be perfect but I’m pretty sure would be exactly like the butter dish, which I guess makes them not perfect at all.

My boyfriend, he is hard to shop for.

Our flight, if it actually leaves, is tomorrow at 10:30 and according to weather reports it’s supposed to be clear today through tomorrow evening.  Just enough time for us to get in and enjoy the cold and snow.  If we do make it we have to call Wes’ sister so she and her family (including the new baby) can stay at their parents house and be sure to make Christmas.

And Christmas?  Well, this is my first year away from my family.  There was one year (I think) in college that I didn’t make it home until after the actual day, but my parents held off on gifts and I was able to spend the day with my extended family in Santa Barbara.  Last year we made a whirlwind two-week trip to both our families’ to celebrate but this year that wasn’t possible – not to mention it was exhausting.

If we do make it to Portland it’s still unsure whether all of the packages will also make it.

At least it will be white and cold and full of babies.  Well, one baby, anyway.

For My Brother

The first thing you should know about my brother is that his name isn’t Porter.  And the only place I will refer to him by that name is here.

The second thing is that he is incredibly messy.  I think we both got the gene of where, if we can’t do something perfectly, we would just rather not do it – it just manifests itself in different ways.  He’s messy and I’d rather not blow-dry my hair every morning because, really, what’s the point?

The third thing is that we’re pretty close.  I think it makes some people crazy (mom and dad, I’m looking at you.  Oh, and Wes, too) but we have a blast.  We talk a lot and I if I hear a funny joke or see something funny he’s usally the first person I call because I know he’ll understand it without me having to explain why Hot Topic with a fancy Hollister-like facade is funny.

And that’s the background you need on my brother for just about any story I tell about him.  Oh, he’s also incredibly smart.

Anyway….

While Wes and I were in Boise for Thanksgiving Porter and his friend were hosting a Progressive party (where the party progresses to different locations throughout the night) with a Mad Men theme.  Stoked as I was about attending this party, I didn’t have a thing to wear.  Sure there were dresses, but my god, it’s cold in Boise.  Not if you live there – or in any other cold weather state – the weather was closer to early October than late November, but for someone living in Southern California, there was no way a dress would work for the party.  Instead we opted for a more beatnik approach, which was pretty pathetic attempt to fit the theme and had me stressing out wondering if I should spend $80 on a wrap I would probably never wear again.

And I would have, too, if I hadn’t spotted some fantastic sixties style aprons.  And for less than $15 I went from trying-to-be-beatnik-and-failing to sixties housewife.  For a last minute wardrobe change, it was pretty good.

I joined the party late after having dinner with a couple of friends and met up with everyone at the house of Porter’s friend’s parents (follow that?).  And, oh what a house that was.  I kept looking around and saying to myself, I cannot believe someone actually decorated it like this on purpose. I was sure that Porter and his friends had come over and set up all the Christmas decorations, but I was assured that no, this is how it looks every year for Christmas.  I wish I had taken more pictures to show exactly what it looked like.

The thing that stands out the most – because it always looks like this – is the purple bathroom.  Not lavender or lilac; bright purple.  And not just highlights of it, or a strip or polka dots.  Every wall in the bathroom was painted purple.  Like being surrounded by Barney while you pee.  I mean, I guess that might be someone’s fetish but it certainly isn’t mine.

The common areas in the house that we occupied were covered in Christmas decorations.  And not just any Christmas decorations but churchy Christmas decorations (I mean, I guess it is a religious holiday).  It’s a smaller home that hasn’t been updated since the 80s but with all the decorations it felt more like the 50s and was the perfect place to start such a party.

The hors d’ouvers were Ritz crackers and cheese.  The drinks were champagne and martinis and I fit in perfectly with my apron.

From there we all caravaned to a dive bar, and what you need to remember is this: in Idaho, it’s legal to smoke in bars.  Legal.  To.  Smoke.  In.  Bars.  (Tangent: Porter once worked in a restaurant in Pocatello where parents, while eating with their children, would opt for the bar area so they could smoke while they ate.)  The highlight of this venue was the woman who had a tattoo of NIN (if that first N were backwards) on her lower back.  That’s right, her tramp stamp wast he Nine Inch Nails logo.

Our last stop was Porter’s house, where a team of four (or three, I can’t remember) was cleaning all day to get the place presentable for the masses and where there was also a roast waiting for us.  And some of the most delicious coffee cake I have ever had.  More champagne, more beer more people getting drunk loudly while we played Trivial Pursuit Go.

After drinking way too much the night before during the BSU game, I took it easy on the alcohol and actually got to enjoy the evening.

And that was Progressive Party, which made me a little jealous because I could never do that sort of thing here what with all the space between houses.  And a little homesick for, well, home.  Living far from family has its advantages, but it also means that you live far from your family and don’t get to partake in the little things that happen.  There’s no going to my brother’s house for a fun game of Trivial Pursuit or to watch a game.  No meeting for lunch just because.  We can’t just pop in to see Wes’ new niece.

No, we have to take what we can get when we can get it.  So I’ll say yes to whatever thing Porter has planned when I’m home and I’ll have lunch with my parents and just hang out with them becuase it doesn’t happen that often.

Negative Nancy

That’s what I’ve been calling – privately, of course – a coworker of mine.  She’s worked at the company since before the current comany owned so, of course, she knows everything about everyone.  And not in a particular way but in the general Oh, they won’t agree to something like that. As a group she’s quick to make judgements based simply on the fact that she’s worked in the same building (not even the same company – they do different things!) for over ten years.  She’s quick to cut in on conversations around her – even if they have nothing to do with her and you didn’t ask her opinion – and she’s not willing to listen to your reasoning behind your choices.

So, yes, lately she’s been driving me crazy.  Just hearing her arguments against my choices puts me in a bad mood.  Here I am getting ally psyched about an event that I’m in charge of – an event in which I don’t have any boss lurking over my shoulder – and she keeps shooting down all the ideas I have.  And she doesn’t even have a say in what’s going on!  She’s not involved in this project in any way, excpet for the fact that she wants to be Negative Nancy to everything I say.

So I’ve got to work doubly hard to keep the excitement I felt upon starting said project.  I know that not everything I have will work out the way I see it, but excitement is what’s giving me good ideas.  Ideas that will, hopefully, pan out into something awesome.  Something that will get other excited and want to join the event.

Rainy Monday

Did you know that Christmas is in less than two weeks?  Down here the only thing that reminds me of Christmas is the fact that it’s snowing every where else. Um, no, not that I’m jealous or anything.  It’s hard to get in the Christmas/Holiday mood when it’s 65-70 degrees every single day.  And when you don’t decorate because why bother when you’re just flying “home” for the actual event?  So, yeah, I’m stuck looking at my credit card bill to remind that the gift giving season is upon us.

Well, that and the rain that started late last night.  Glorious rain.  Crazy that I love it, you’re thinking?  Well, it’s something different than the endless sunny days we always get down here.  Seriously, too much of one thing is not a good thing – I don’t care what Mae West said.  I opened my blinds at work today and enjoyed the downpour, which turned to a drizzle, all day.  It would have been nice to have the rain over the weekend when curling up with a good book or movie, hot cocoa and possibly a stew.  But I’ll take what I can get.

I’m mostly done with Christmas shopping but I still feel like I need something more for my dad.  And I haven’t quite figured out what that is yet.  But there’s still time, right?  I had plans to send Christmas cards this year – how grown up and pretentious, right? – but I was all set to pick out cutesy pictures of me and Wes and send them to all our loved ones.   But, of course, that didn’t happen for various reasons.  The main one being: I was being lazy.  Perhaps next year.

Wishing for Snow

I finished my 100th book.  Finally!  Well, actually, I finished it last weekend but haven’t updated because I suck at finding time.  Wait, not, let me ammend that: I suck at making time for it.  I’d much rather sit back and watch reruns of Top Gear on BBC America, which I just learned we get and will probably not changet he station for a very long time.

So after eleven months, one week of constantly reading reading reading, I am done.  That monkey on my back is going to have to find another host.  And finishing before December 31st means that I win a free dinner from a friend in San Francisco, who has to fly down here to give it to me.  This is the same friend who doubted that I would make it to the halfway mark on time and, when I did, had to buy a bottle of wine.  I can’t believe she doubted me.

100 books over the course of the year and do you know what I learned?  Pretty much nothing.  I can hardly remember all the books – and I’ve even got a list of them – let alone tell you what that book I read back in March was about.  I can tell you which ones I thought were good, but not why; which ones I thought were awful, but probably couldn’t give you an accurate plot synopsis for it.  It’s the basic quantity over quality argument, and this time I’m siding with quality.  All those books I remember enjoying will prbably have to be reread so that I can remember why I thought they were good.  But I won’t force myself to read three books a week.  Finish one and pick up another before you have time to fully digest the last one.  That’s not really the way I like to read so this goal has been pretty draining.  For once I actually dreaded reading.

So what’s up for 2009?  Another list, but this time I’m not going to push myself to read.  Read. READ!  I’m just going to go at my own pace and see how many books I actually read in a year.  Will be anywhere close to 100?  Or will most of my reading be in the way of blogs, magazines and internet?  We shall see.

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In other news, it’s December 14th and all over the world (um, by which I mean Washington, Oregon and Idaho) it’s snowing.  Here, though, it’s about 68 degrees.  And while most people would really enjoy that, I don’t.  I want snow.  I want mountains and skiing.  I want, in short, winter.  Not this sad excuse for winter.  We’re off to Portland for Christmas to see Wes’ new neice and help celebrate her very first Christmas.  And it’s cold there so, like Idaho, we’ll be equal parts ecstatic and horrified while we’re there.

His neice will be close to three months old by the time we see here.  We’ve seen our friends’ baby more than we’ll probably see Wes’ niece in the next year.  Have I mentioned that living so far away from family sucks?  Well, take note: it does.  Still, three months is better than a year old.  And at least now she’s passed that new born stage where she doesn’t do much.  Now we can see smiles and hear laughter.  She’ll have a sort-of-personality by the time we get there.  and we are both looking forward to meeting her.

The Party

First of all, who decided that having a Booze Cruise for a company party would be a good idea?  And then who took that further and decided that cheese, crackers and shrimp cocktail would be enough food to keep the guests from getting completely drunk?  Because guess what, whoever it was is crazy for thinking that.  Luckily, no one got out of control drunk.

Except for one girlfriend who ended up passes out on a couch in front of everyone and then had a bunch of construction guys pose for photos with her.  All I can is that I’m glad it wasn’t me.

Wes has been playing on a softball team with some guys from work and I watch their games becasue, well, we only have one car so I don’t have much of a choice.  Oh, and I love cheering on my boyfriend in the cold.  Really, I do.  On their team is a guy who I don’t particularly like.  He played soccer with us and was just awful to be around.  He hogged the ball, took the game way too seriously and if he didn’t like how he was playing he simply left.  And took the nets with him because he was the only one with a truck.

The first game of the softball season I went and was the only person out there cheering them on.  I was laughing with whicgh ever two players happened to be in the dugout at the time while the Asshole-of-Epic-Proportions tried his best to get the softball across the plate, which he failed at more times than he succeded.  At one point in the game he looks my way and says, “It’s really hard to pitch with that annoying laugh over there.”  So caught off gaurd was I that I didn’t get to say what I really wanted, which was: “You can’t seem to pitch period, asshole” and instead said, “Wow, that was a real dick thing to say.”

After that inning he came over and tried to make a joke out of it, even slapping my leg in a good-natured just-joking sort of way.  I was having none of it because, dude, you’re an asshole more times that you’re not so fuck off.  But smiled along because he works with my boyfriend and I’m not really into making things more difficult at work for my him.

But then, come to find out that the next day at work he’s telling people that “she needs a muzzle put on her”.  Which Wes hears and Asshole-of-Epic-Proportions basically tells him to do it.  To which Wes replies, “Tell her yourself.  She’ll fucking kick your ass.” Oh, and I really would like to.  Especially when I found out.  At the party.  After a glass of champagne and wine.  I was so fired up for a confrontation.  I’m the only person out there cheering them on – not even his bitch girlfriend could come along – and he wants to insult me.  On top of that, what a dick thing to say.

But instead of storming out of my chair and making a scene I decide that all night I will laugh whatever annoying laugh I can come up with any time he is near.  And I do just that.  I even get other wives/girlfiriends/fiancees to join me.  Of course he doesn’t understand what’s going on – that everyone here is mocking him; that the bosses like Wes over him; that the wives/girlfriends/fiancees are chosing me over his girlfriend.  He instead looks at whoever is near him and says, “Oh, that laugh.”

Yes, I’m still fired up.  And I still want him to try some friendly conversation at the next gamge.  But I’m content to know that his life suks.  He sucks.  And my laugh?  Well, I’m pretty fond of it so he can go fuck himself.

Okay, that wasn’t all there was to the party.  But that was the main party.  Afterwards a group of us moved to the bar for more beer.  And Irish Carbombs.  I talked to more wives and heard one story of a couple living in Utah.  The wife was at the grocery store with her kids and she was approached by another couple.  I can’t remember the small details of how it started, but they invited her to enter into a polygamous marriage.  She grabbed her kids and went directly home and started packing.  She told me that if her husband didn’t want to leave she was leaving without him.  Apparently he did because they’re still married.

And then, suddenly, all the alcohol of the night seemed to hit me at once  and I sat staring at my barely-drank beer.  It was only 11:30 but we decided to call it a night.  The one great thing about having a booze-based party with little food?  They had to get hotel rooms for everyone to bring a little safety to the evening.

Booze Cruises and Furniture

Third week into my new job and I have no time for anything – especially blogging.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  I’m still reading a lot to reach my goal of 100 books (only four more to go!) and I’m hoping that when I finish that project I’ll have more time to sit down and write something coherent and meaningful(ish).

Tonight is Wes’ company party.  It’s on a boat and is what the kids might call a Booze Cruise (or is that Crooze?  I don’t even pretend to know).  And, of course, there is no formal dinner.  Just appetizers and an open bar.  His company sure likes their alcohol.  I don’t know that I’ve been to (or heard of) any event that doesn’t include an open bar.  12 Hour classes followed by an open bar.  Three days worth of meetings followed by an open bar.  It’s dangerous really.  Not so much for the driving drunk (there’s usually hotels involved – I guess that had to cut dinner in order to afford the hotel rooms for everyone), but because of what can happen when one is faced with an open bar and forced to socialize with one’s boyfriend’s coworkers.

Don’t worry, I’m going to be on my best behavior tonight.

And then tomorrow our grown up furniture will arrive.  A beautiful dresser and nightstands for our bedroom, followed by the mirror which is backordered until the end of December or early January.  We moved the ginormous desk out of the bedroom last night and repositioned it in the living/dining room (should be the dining room but it’s really too small to house a table and chairs comfortably – especially with the surfboard in the corner and the bikes hanging from the ceiling).  Saturday will find us sorting through desk things and clothes, hopefully discarding things we haven’t used and don’t need.

When I lived in San Francisco I didn’t have a dresser for various reasons (one of which was that Wes and I would eventually buy furniture together so I’m glad that one at least was a valid reason) and I was so excited to move down here and have access to half a dresser.  Just half was enough to make me swoon!  And it really worked out for those first couple of months when all I wore was tank tops and shorts, but now I’ve had to branch out and I’m back to that familiar feeling of Holy shit, I completely forgot about that shirt.

So the thought of all those empty drawers waiting to be filled with my collection of clothes is more than a little exciting.  And the nightstands.  Just waiting to be filled with my books and phone and whatever else nightstands hold.  Seriously, what do they hold?  A bottle of wine?  Mini bottles of alcohol?  I’m open to suggestions.

After the newness of those articles have worn off we’re moving right on to our coffee table (which will also, magically, double as our “kitchen” table) and a desk.  We just need to figure out how it will all fit together – more like how all of our other stuff will fit around it. Because seriously, we have a lot of stuff.  I’m really hoping that the new furniture will turn us into an organized household.

More likely, though, it will just turn into a disorganized but tidy household with nice furniture.  And I think that, in the place we’re in now, I’m okay with that.