O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum.
November 26th, 2001 by Kevin
Well, so much for a wild and crazy weekend. Slightly painful grandmother visit Friday night, slightly annoying running around from hospital to hospital picking up MRI films on Saturday afternoon, and slightly ridiculous spending spree Saturday night.Saturday night, D. and I went shopping for Christmas decorations and a tree. I am a die-hard real tree fanatic. I love the smell, I love the look, and I even love attempting to tie the damn thing to the top of the car without covering myself or the vehicle in sap. Challenging and fun for the whole family. It’s worth having to step on a few unexpected pine needles in July just to have that “new tree” smell.
However, D. has massive allergies, and mine have taken a turn for the worse since quitting smoking. (Isn’t that just a kick in the ass…) So, I agreed to a crappy, commercialized, ugly, generic, hideous, bogus, fake tree. I didn’t even throw that much of a fit. So, we went to Meier’s, which is absolutely overwhelming regarding product range. Where else can you get chicken, socks, a humidifier, makeup, and a power saw all in one gigantic warehouse? Love it. Every time we go, D. has to drag me out of the place. Anyway, we went to look at fake trees, and I was not amused. Everything was over 50 bucks and ugly. They had ugly trees with lights already on them; ugly, fiber-optic, techno-geek trees; and worst of all, white flocked trees. Shudder. Finally, we agreed on an 8-foot fake blue spruce, and paid more for it than I care to admit. We walked out of the store with 360 dollars worth of tree, lights, outdoor lights, decorations, craft crap, and other assorted Christmas tchotchkes.
I planned to hate this tree, or to at least resign myself to its presence in a solemn, martyr-like fashion.
I believed that I would always long for the sweet-smelling tree of my youth, a tree which shed needles, required water, and often leaned from being cut improperly.
I dreaded mid-twenties crises involving fear of getting old and tacky every time I looked at the plastic abomination.
I freaking love it.
It looks fantastic. You’d really swear the damn thing was real. It’s really annoying to put up, because you have to put every little branch in separately, but it looks great.We bought round-bulbed, white faceted lights that look like little crystals, and put those up. Then we got the big huge lights that look almost like old-fashioned outdoor lights, also white and faceted, and put those on too. And since I am not a fan of neither the ugly metallic glass ball nor the stamped-resin Hallmark ornament, I made bows out of fabric ribbons in silver and white, and put them all over the tree. Screw you, Martha Stewart, you have nothing on me during a Christmas craze. We also got boxes of little 8-pointed stars in silver and white, and put those on. The tree topper is a huge, 3-D bronze star, with tiny stars punched out so that the light inside makes little star patterns on the ceiling. I absolutely LOVE it.
So, D. and I had a horribly cheesy evening, decorating the tree, listening to the South Park Christmas album and the new Pink album(yay - I love it, it’s very ‘Jagged Little Pill’-ish.), watching sad movies (Sunshine - fantastic.), and ending the moratorium on sex. And please note that this is certainly never going to become Porno Diary or anything, but let me add that the moratorium was ended abruptly, profoundly, and quite exhilaratingly. Ahem.
So now I am completely obsessed with Christmas-izing the house, and am tying silver, burgundy, and white bows on anything that stands still long enough. When Trance Designs was still in full-strength operation, I made beaded Christmas ornaments for my most frequent customers and my suppliers. They’re really beautiful, but very time-consuming. I didn’t think I’d be able to manage any, but I whipped out a few today, and I’ve done pretty well doing them mainly by feel. I’m going to set up my magnifying lamp tomorrow and try to turn a few more out. It would be nice to get back in the habit of doing something delicate, so that I could possibly start cranking out some new jewelry.
It’s been kind of a bad weekend, as far as eyesight. I seem to be slipping a little. The computer is becoming tough, and I have to sit very close to the TV to see any faces. I’m going to have to start up with the fucking cane again, because I am tripping and falling like a crack addict. My shins look like a Mexican sunrise.
I’ll see the neuro early this week to compare MRI results from last week and two months ago, and to get results from my EEG. I’m nervous. I had a hard time getting around today, and that coupled with the vision loss is freaking me out. I’m hoping it’s just a minor flare-up.
I went to yet another damn baby shower today, for yet another unmarried woman. It’s funny, when I was pregnant and single, I felt like I was the only one in the world. My family acted like I was wearing the scarlet letter, my friends acted piteous and fearful, and I was a nervous wreck. Today, this girl was smiling away, everyone in attendance was happy and cheery, and you’d think she’d been planning to have a kid for ten years. Not to mention the fact that her waist was probably only 26 inches at seven months pregnant. Bitch. 
I wanted to walk up and say, “Hey, exactly where are you storing that kid - your liver??” Sigh. Sour grapes, sour grapes.
I feel so overwhelmed with stress lately. Will my company(from which I am currently on disability) go under? Will my small business ever operate normally again? Will I ever regain my sight/fine motor skills? Will I ever drive/work/live a normal life again? Will I become crippled? Will I lose the rest of my sight? Will I lose my health insurance? Will my defective brain crap out and leave me a vegetable? Will my son suffer because he’s growing up with a mother who can’t do normal things? Will D. become afraid or tired of the drama and leave me?
That’s some heavy stuff for twenty-seven. Not to drown myself in self-pity, but sometimes I feel like I’m way too fucking young to think about any of these things. It was good to shop this weekend. Spending money like there’s no tomorrow always gets my mind off of the fact that there might not be a tomorrow, just as acting like an irresponsible child allows me to forget just how heavy my responsibilities usually are.
I need a beer. I’m going to go turn on my beautiful tree and have a beer. Welcome to Martha Stewart’s Alcoholic Insomniac Festival of Lights.
By the way, this is a fantastic site. Heather is just too cool for words.
Clix the hit whore…
