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jaeleslie at 02:14pm on 01/01/2004
jaeleslie at 02:14pm on 01/01/2004A couple days ago I mentioned here the movie Toys, which is our family's little holiday entertainment tradition. I'm afraid at this time of year I often rather identify with the Coppelia character played by Joan Cusack, who (not to spoil any surprises for anyone) gets her brains rather scrambled in the course of the story (even in the panic of the event she says "I'mOkayI'mOkayI'mOkayI'mOkayI'mOkay" with cute rising intonation). But the forces of Good eventually triumph, she's got it all together again by the end, and getting out of the limo wearing her elegant hat, in the middle of an improbable Kansas wheatfield, she remarks calmly looking around, "So this is Paris."
The holiday throws any attempt at routine out of whack, and entire days disappear whole into the maw of the last week. There are just so many different things going on that I can't keep track once they've passed. But I've been busy! There was my birthday on Monday, what on earth did I do all that day? because I know I gave it some thought. I got a nice bouquet, and I went to the gym, but hell if I know what else. Then we went to Ginza of Tokyo for dinner which was fun for all, and the food was superb. I think I made a pumpkin pie that day, using almond milk since I can't eat dairy products any more, and that turned out well.
Tuesday was another that I literally couldn't recall by the next day until I asked Mr S. But I started out by picking up everything possible off the floor and moving most of the furniture out of the living room into the dining room, and then shampooing the carpet. While it was drying I went shopping, which was memorable as I so seldom do so, and bought a new pair of silky brown trousers and a dress and a new pair of shoes as much as possible like the last pair I have been wearing into the ground. Everything on sale of course. When I came home then it was necessary to move all the furniture back. Number One Son was off with his regular gaming group, and I think our riotous entertainment that evening must have been the pilot episode of Navy NCIS in rerun, which I much enjoyed again, both the part I had seen before and the part I hadn't, since I can seldom remember exactly how these detective cop shows get where they are going.
The reason for cleaning the carpet thoroughly at this closed-window time of year was that the kitty has gotten seriously deranged, a bit late in the season for her. Usually she gets a little strange in the fall when she has to come in and can't sit in the garden all day. We thought we were getting off easy this year that she has picked a corner of the sofa to sit on every minute of the day, instead of some windowsill which in the past has resulted in occasional falls (very embarrassing for a self-respecting cat) and severe sleep deprivation as she balances there keeping watch. Our little scaredy-cat is entirely compulsive about sitting on her chosen height, on good days, or else hiding under the bed. But this year in her obsessive-compulsive paranoia she has apparently forgotten the proper use of the cat box (which properly belongs in the basement, although that very well may be full of monsters). So I thought to make a clean sweep of any scented areas of the carpet that might be lingering after innumerable emergency cleanups, and possibly persuade her to the straight and narrow.
She was very alarmed with me making all that noise with the vacuum cleaner, and left the house in a huff. But it was cold outside, and she hasn't been out in so long, Mr S theorized that she may have been so disoriented as to forget all day exactly where she was supposed to go home, even when he called. She didn't turn up again until well into the evening, still very grumpy with me, but happy enough to find other warm laps for her cold little feet. Naturally we speculate on what tiny thought processes might be passing through her walnut-sized brain. "So this is Paris," or something to that effect, was my guess. An attempt to keep up some appearance of control, self-possession and continuity.
Yesterday I got up ridiculously early, with some kind of idea that I had to sort out my box of cards to send. I have sort of a collection, or at least a habit of acquiring them (still catching up on the habit of sending them out). I got all the cards and envelopes sorted, which is a couple feet of file box. I even put them in categories, what fun! Each card has an envelope that fits nested with it, and all the extra envelopes are now in a different box. Must now make art cards to put in them. That is how my little mind works. I had a couple of good ideas for that and made notes, and wrote postcards until I ran out of stamps. Then I went by the post office, and for a walk at the mall again (the stars on my calendar tell me I have been quite consistent about that lately) and later got dressed up and went to a New Year's party. Happy New Year!
So this is Paris.
The holiday throws any attempt at routine out of whack, and entire days disappear whole into the maw of the last week. There are just so many different things going on that I can't keep track once they've passed. But I've been busy! There was my birthday on Monday, what on earth did I do all that day? because I know I gave it some thought. I got a nice bouquet, and I went to the gym, but hell if I know what else. Then we went to Ginza of Tokyo for dinner which was fun for all, and the food was superb. I think I made a pumpkin pie that day, using almond milk since I can't eat dairy products any more, and that turned out well.
Tuesday was another that I literally couldn't recall by the next day until I asked Mr S. But I started out by picking up everything possible off the floor and moving most of the furniture out of the living room into the dining room, and then shampooing the carpet. While it was drying I went shopping, which was memorable as I so seldom do so, and bought a new pair of silky brown trousers and a dress and a new pair of shoes as much as possible like the last pair I have been wearing into the ground. Everything on sale of course. When I came home then it was necessary to move all the furniture back. Number One Son was off with his regular gaming group, and I think our riotous entertainment that evening must have been the pilot episode of Navy NCIS in rerun, which I much enjoyed again, both the part I had seen before and the part I hadn't, since I can seldom remember exactly how these detective cop shows get where they are going.
The reason for cleaning the carpet thoroughly at this closed-window time of year was that the kitty has gotten seriously deranged, a bit late in the season for her. Usually she gets a little strange in the fall when she has to come in and can't sit in the garden all day. We thought we were getting off easy this year that she has picked a corner of the sofa to sit on every minute of the day, instead of some windowsill which in the past has resulted in occasional falls (very embarrassing for a self-respecting cat) and severe sleep deprivation as she balances there keeping watch. Our little scaredy-cat is entirely compulsive about sitting on her chosen height, on good days, or else hiding under the bed. But this year in her obsessive-compulsive paranoia she has apparently forgotten the proper use of the cat box (which properly belongs in the basement, although that very well may be full of monsters). So I thought to make a clean sweep of any scented areas of the carpet that might be lingering after innumerable emergency cleanups, and possibly persuade her to the straight and narrow.
She was very alarmed with me making all that noise with the vacuum cleaner, and left the house in a huff. But it was cold outside, and she hasn't been out in so long, Mr S theorized that she may have been so disoriented as to forget all day exactly where she was supposed to go home, even when he called. She didn't turn up again until well into the evening, still very grumpy with me, but happy enough to find other warm laps for her cold little feet. Naturally we speculate on what tiny thought processes might be passing through her walnut-sized brain. "So this is Paris," or something to that effect, was my guess. An attempt to keep up some appearance of control, self-possession and continuity.
Yesterday I got up ridiculously early, with some kind of idea that I had to sort out my box of cards to send. I have sort of a collection, or at least a habit of acquiring them (still catching up on the habit of sending them out). I got all the cards and envelopes sorted, which is a couple feet of file box. I even put them in categories, what fun! Each card has an envelope that fits nested with it, and all the extra envelopes are now in a different box. Must now make art cards to put in them. That is how my little mind works. I had a couple of good ideas for that and made notes, and wrote postcards until I ran out of stamps. Then I went by the post office, and for a walk at the mall again (the stars on my calendar tell me I have been quite consistent about that lately) and later got dressed up and went to a New Year's party. Happy New Year!
So this is Paris.