Tag: dogs

Oh, Christmas tree

One year, Tom’s parents didn’t take down their Christmas tree until Easter.

I may be exaggerating.

I’m not sure how long my parents left their trees up every year, but it’s always vaguely been in my head not to put it up before mid-December and not to have it up past New Year’s Day. I think Lynne’s tree was up this year by Thanksgiving: shocking! And mine is still up, and it’s January 2. Tom and Tim were both away for several days while Kathy S babysat me and a house full of dogs; we stayed up watching movies and talking every night, and I took a lot of naps and entertained dogs every day. This all means we’re a little behind in getting Christmas out of the house. Today, instead of being industrious, Tom would rather relax and catch up on his DVRd shows before going back to work, and I’d rather watch this entertaining documentary Puterbaugh recommended (Bill Cunningham New York–streams on Netflix) and take pretty photos like this:

So the heck with it. Where is it written that a house must be undecorated by a certain date? Are there Christmas police who’ll issue a citation? Will the dogs sleep any less soundly with all these festive Christmas lights sparkling around them? Is my sluggishness why people think the Mayan calendar says WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE?

The piece of Dove candy I snagged on my way to the computer told me:

Tom’s parents were right all along.

Decorating, third post


The tree is now loaded with ornaments. That whitish thing on the bottom right of the photo is how Guinness has used a marrow bone to claim the Christmas tree skirt as her own. Every year, it’s her preferred place to sleep. She gets disgruntled as it fills up with presents, then after those are all opened and removed, it becomes her bed again. After all, why use one of the FIVE dog beds within snoring distance of the tree?

Score

I’ve always been mesmerized by people who find money or other interesting things when they go through old purses, bags, coat pockets, and the like. I’ve never been one of those people–okay, except once, I did find a dollar in a blazer pocket many years after I last wore the blazer. Since I could remember tucking it there for specific reasons, I don’t count that.

Recently I was checking the various pockets of the case that contains my old laptop. I found a business card from my CR-V’s car dealership–obviously I’d taken my laptop with me when I got the car serviced. And folded up into a tight little square I found this piece of paper.


front


back

I have a couple of notepads at the house with scores for our ongoing games of progressive rummy. One is used when we play Lynne and her family, and one is used when we play my sister during her visits. I probably folded this up and stuck it in my laptop bag with a promise to add it to the notebook. We consult these old scores when someone says stuff like, “I never win,” “I always lose the last hand,” or “Laura cheats.”

The moment I unfolded the paper, I knew exactly when it was from–September 2005. It was the first time Tim ever went to Lynne’s house–when we tried to evacuate as Hurricane Rita moved through the Gulf toward us. Our plan to leave the state was thwarted by the gridlocked traffic–it took us five hours to go fifteen miles–and we finally got off the highway and rambled along surface roads until we made it to Green Acres in the northwest suburbs. Whenever I look at our photos from those few days at Lynne’s, I’m amazed how much has changed. Our main reason for trying to evacuate was concern about how power loss and flooding could affect my mother’s health. She died in 2008. Craig died in 2006, and Tim’s dog River and cat Lazlo, both of whom were with us, have died, as have Lynne’s dogs Greta and Sparky.

But for that little period of time, we were all safe together. Though we were sometimes without power, we cooked and ate scrumptious meals, sat outside on Lynne’s patio and talked and (some of us) smoked, kept in touch with friends by phone and computer to make sure everyone was accounted for–and played lots of cards.

By the way, in progressive rummy, the winner has the lowest score–and oddly, this paper shows that each of us won one game. Maybe that’s why I kept it: proof that nobody loses all the time.

I still say Laura cheats.

Magnetic Poetry 365:345

In October 2001, Tom and I joined Tim, Timmy, Jim, and many friends in New York for the release of the first Timothy James Beck novel, It Had to Be You. It was a strange time in Manhattan, but traversing the island together in support of the book, having dinner with our editor, and doing a few tourist things helped keep our moods mostly positive.

One place we went was Keith Haring’s Pop Shop, a boutique providing public accessibility to Haring’s art, as well as clothing and gift items bearing images of some of his most iconic drawings. (The shop was closed to the public in 2005; the link above is its online site, where merchandise continues to be available.) While we were there, I sneakily bought Tom a couple of Keith Haring ties that I later gave him for his birthday and Christmas. He liked them so much that a couple of years later, I ordered him another one. Among them, he had a favorite.

On Saturday, he came inside from doing some work around The Compound grounds to five happy dogs (Tim’s and ours). None of those dogs had silk hanging from their mouths or necktie-icide in their eyes. But Tom’s favorite Keith Haring tie must have slipped off the rack and been visible under his closet door, because Pixie and/or Penny someone had left it in the middle of the living room. And it looked like this:

I texted Tim, who agreed that the tie carnage sucked, but then he said, “Though maybe now a Barbie might get a Keith Haring skirt.”

Hmmm. But my Barbies are all packed away until after the holidays.

Except apparently Santa has a secret stash in the house, because here’s a new Model Muse, who I’ve named Shannon after a character in one of my early (never published) novels. And she’s got a fancy new silk dress and jacket.