end of

I'm thinking of not doing anything for New Year's Eve. It's not a first for me, but it sure hasn't happened in a really long time. I spend every one with my best friend, but this year plans are a little sketchy and I would just feel like I'm crashing into someone's home. The ironic thing is that I have 2 other invitations to parties. That never happens. Never. I feel a little popular if not totally riddled with anxiety of talking to strangers for hours upon end, hoping and just waiting for that ever-lasting hour to get here. I never love a New Year's. It's always so anti-climatic. There has only been one (well two) of any sort of memory worth the retelling-- which I'm not doing here.

That paragraph up there looked like I was boasting about having 3 possibilities for New Year's. I wasn't, not in the least. I hate boasting and boastful people-- reason 1 for not enjoying talking to strangers. And even so, I have 4 possibilities, one just isn't an invite-- it's a "hang out with a friend who's husband is like 13,000 miles away." She doesn't even know I've considered it. I wandered what she has planned.

Well, it's the "end of" no matter what we've got planned and according to "they" we must plan to start anew. I've got big things cooked up for 2007. I'm keeping them a secret and I resolve not to resolve anyway, it's just happens that these big plans are coming together (fingers crossed) right now. It's like the stars are alligning or some higgeldy-piggeldy idea like that.

To quote a Christmas card, "merry everything, happy always!"



my wishes for you

May the merriest of times be upon you. And may you be happy and warm and filled with eggnog.




christmas stressers

My nephew is getting to the age where I wonder when it is he will stop believing in Santa Claus. When exactly will he scoff at my exclamation that "Santa has a microphone hidden in the tree so he can hear whether or not you're being good." ? So far, so good although I'm a little stressed for the time when the realization does hit him and his friends let him on the big, fat lie that all adults throughout the world put upon children to enhance their free gift recieving experience. I'm not looking forward to simply because he has two little sisters and the amount of convincing that will have to take place that their older brother is actually crazy and synical makes my head hurt. I believe though that youth and the ultimate, undying belief in magic will win out and their innocent deception will remain intack for several more years. I hope at least.




you can’t defile a first edition

It's what I told a friend, handing her a book I found at a thrift store. A little known book, but a first edition just the same. It may never be worth anything, but you can't disregard it's status among other books.

Sometimes I feel like this, like I’m brand new, a minute old, pristine and so innocent. I’m no original. 'You’re one of a kind.' It’s just babble. We’re all the same when it comes to basics, just trying to survive.

A boy once told me something like “when you get to the end of the road, it’s better to have a worn out heart than a pristine one.” What does he know? I thought. I still think.

I like my pristine little heart all glittery and guarded by a fortress of emotions. You couldn’t break in if you tried with a jackhammer.

My 1st edition heart has been shelved a long time and it looks to be never read. My pages aren’t dog-eared, no one has left notes in the margins.

When I get to the end of my road, my heart won’t be worn out and maybe it will be priceless, a one of a kind first edition, still memorialized between it’s own covers.




christmastime's a'coming

To say that Christmas is my favorite season is to say, "Hello, my name is Anna."

I'm not a Christmas sweater,jingle-bell earring wearing Christmas lover. I'm the Christmas music 24-7, baking special Christmas only recipes, eggnog drinking, finding the perfect Christmas card, holiday party, real tree trimming Christmas lover.

And the best thing about Christmas is the long break I get from work. I'm sitting in Panera Bread just wiling away the hours. I had a massage yesterday after strolling down Carytown shopping with a friend. I love the relaxed feel of time off at Christmas. It's better than summer, or Spring Break, or even the perfectly planned weekend. I'm just enjoying things right now and writing here on my little space in the World Wide Web has not been top priority. I'll get back here soon. My plan today is to sit here and write and write and write until I'm tired of writing, but never, never tired of Christmas.




i’m wishing for snow

It’s still technically fall, but when coats and gloves are necessary we automatically put “winter” in our everyday vernacular. And I love winter. Love it the most even though when fall comes I think it is my favorite. It isn’t. Not truly at least. Winter is the one that I long for. It’s my second skin, my soul mate.

The darkness feels strange at first then it becomes so usual and almost comforting, makes snuggling into bed early an OK venture. And candles. Oh candles in the cold. Sometimes I burn candles instead of turning on the heat. It works. Kinda.

I could live on a land that only had winters, where down was stuffed inside everything, where tea, hot chocolate, soup, and grilled cheese ruled the kitchen. I could wake up to snow each morning and go to sleep with a fire each night.

On come winter, come to my house.




reading through

It's so easy to run back through the words of time, imagine the evirnoments in which they were written, know that the other person had you at the forefront of their minds. And now....

It's the re-reading I like the most, the culling of details I might have skipped over. I barely live my own life. I read a great deal, but I never re-read books. I do, quite often, re-read the words that other have written to me.

This must be my need to be claimed, to understand that at one time, words were important enough to make them permenant and then give that permenance to me. So, it is mine. As much mine at the books on my bookshelves and ever so much more real with references and events I have experiences. The letters, emails, cards.... the bigger senses of what I really want, words, the breaking down of meaning, or understanding.

Or whatever. It's been a little rollercoast reading night.

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