Dexter and Nocturne

This is your cat...



This is your cat on drugs...



Any questions?



This is your dog...


This is your dog destroying his Christmas toy in 15 minutes...


This is your dog looking at your reproachfully after you've taken away the bone he was destroying because he was throwing coconut fibers everywhere...


Merry Christmas!

Solstice

I know that the reason for the season is to celebrate the birth of Jesus. I know that Advent is the time of preparation before the coming of the Messiah.

I also know that Jesus wasn't born around this time of year and that his birth began to be equated with December 25 because in the 3rd century, Christianity was trying to figure out how to get newly-converted pagans to stop celebrating the solstice. They failed, and so they co-opted the date, associating it with the birth of Jesus rather than with the solstice event itself.

One could argue that they succeeded quite well.

I argue that Christianity made a giant fuck up.

The birth of Jesus should be celebrated. Jesus, as much or possibly more than any other historical figure, shows us how to live a life full of meaning. I'm not arguing that Jesus isn't a big deal.

I am arguing that Christianity made a mistake by not recognizing how important the summer and winter solstices are to all of humanity, Christians included. We should have picked another day to celebrate the birth of Jesus and found ways to celebrate the solstices within our religion.

Today is the Winter Solstice, and it is dark. I write by the light of candles and the lit tree--ancient solstice-y decorations.

On this darkest day of the year, I remember that while darkness is part of the natural order of things, today is as dark as it gets. Tomorrow will have more light, and the day after will have even more. It's a beautiful metaphor for the darkness in each of our lives, and it makes me more tolerant of my own dark places.

Merry Winter Solstice, everybody.

Christmasochist

Saturday we went to Grandpa's for Christmas. We were joined by Andrew's immediate family--mom, dad, brother, sister-in-law, aunt, uncle--as well as Grandpa's deceased second wife's oldest child, this oldest child's soon-to-be ex-daughter-in-law, and three great-grandchildren who were in serious danger of being pummeled by me if they said, "There's nothing to do here. I'm so bored. When can we go?" one more time.

You know, the usual crowd.

Sunday we went to an aunt and uncle's for Christmas. We were joined by Andrew's immediate family (see above), great-aunt who is also the widow of Andrew's other Grandpa, seven first cousins and their nine children. (I feel the need to point out that six of these children belonged to one cousin and her husband. Granted, it's a blended family, but they've recently had a sixth child--their first together. I am flummoxed.)

Here's the thing: We both have wonderful families. I mean, they're dysfunctional, but you show me a family that isn't and... well, I can't complete that thought. Until someone shows me a functional family, I'm not going to bother coming up with a reaction.

Lovely as our families are, it can't change the fact that Andrew and I are introverts in a big way. BIG. It isn't that we don't like people; it's that being around people, however charming, saps energy from us. People are energy-sucking zombies.

I know. You don't mean to be. We don't blame you.

Yesterday while we were walking the dog, Andrew said, "I feel like a robot. It's ridiculous how tired I am." I then began daydreaming about having Rosie the Robot from the Jetsons walk Dexter so I could go take a nap. Sadly, she did not materialize.

If it's true that most people in our species are extroverts, then perhaps it's important for us introverts to explain ourselves. Extroverts gain energy when around other people. Introverts expend energy when around other people. It's like human interaction is an exothermic reaction for extroverts and an endothermic reaction for introverts.

That's exactly what it's like, actually.

So, we love you, but you make us tired. It is possible that we will need a nap in the middle of the festivities lest we become unglued and start screaming, "Get away, you soul-sucking zombie! Let me be!"

Rachel, who gets me, sent me a link to an Urban Dictionary entry.

Christmasochist - Someone who continues to subject themselves to Christmas activities -- Secret Santa, carolling, etc. -- despite feeling painfully awkward at the event.

So true. So very true. It's a shame we don't drink more to take the edge off the season.

Christmas Stockings Complete!

Now I don't need to feel sheepish (get it, SHEEPISH?!) that the pets have handknit stockings and the humans don't.

Dirty

It's the Muppets' fault.

I read about a video of the Muppets performing Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." We looked it up, and, lo, it was funny.

I sent it to friends via e-mail, and one of them responded that it had been posted on somebody's Facebook wall last week.

They had all seen it.

For a moment, I thought, "Why didn't anyone send me the link?" Then, with horror, I realized I'm like one of those people you have to call to tell them to check their e-mail when you send something because they only check it when they're expecting a message. I'm like one of those people who have an answering machine instead of voicemail and so you try to return a call and spend all evening getting angrier and angrier at their busy signal.

Damn.

I joined Facebook. I feel so dirty.

Christmas Stocking

In 2009, I joined the Rockin' Sock Club, the sock club put on by Blue Moon Fiber Arts. It's an investment, by I choose to think of it in terms of dollars per hour rather than dollars per yarn shipment. In terms of time, it's cheap entertainment.

I've knitted the January,


March,


and May shipments.


I wasn't a fan of the July pattern (sorry), but I love the yarn and will certainly knit it up into something lovely. (I'm thinking these.)

I've started the September socks but became sidetracked with Christmas knitting, and I'm thrilled with the November shipment.

I'm in love with this club. I love that there are patterns that push me to do stuff I wouldn't otherwise do. I'd never knitted with beads before the January socks. The March socks were tricky enough that I had to look up a Youtube video to see how the rose was made. The May ones were fabulous but complicated. I plan to do them again in a plain color. September's socks will be my first knit by Cat Bordhi, and November's socks were designed by Cookie A. I have no idea how they get such famous designers; I'm guessing Blue Moon Fiber Arts has dirt on them all... or bribes them with yarn. That would totally work for me.

With the November shipment came a bonus pattern. While I think Blue Moon's yarn is fantastic, it's also pricey--as good yarn usually is. Since I'm not going to put this bad boy next to my skin, I decided to buy cheap acrylic yarn instead. I present to you:


Anna Zilboorg's Christmas Stocking.

This one is mine, and I'm starting Andrew's today. Before you tell me I should have knit for him first, he has yet to settle on what order he wants his yarn colors. He picked the same variegated and white-ish colors, but is using a sparkly red and sparkly purple instead of the plain red and yellow I used in mine. I'm optimistic that I can get it done before Christmas, although this knit does require charts and thinking. Short rows are hard for me.

I am relieved to be remedying a problem we have in our household: The dog and cat both have knitted Christmas stockings while Andrew and I have store-bought red ones. (You can catch a glimpse of the red stocking in the photo.) It's embarrassing.

Grateful II

I don't know if I'll see Lynn before Christmas, but she is one of the things for which I'm grateful, and her friendship is something I'm going to focus on during rough patches in the holidays.

I met Lynn when in a madrigal singing group in college. (Shut up. Madrigals are cool.) She was a madrigal sage, in terms of singing, costumes, and writing. She's the only person from college with whom I maintain regular contact.

Lynn's the person with whom I'm most likely to talk about the Big Issues. If I say, "I was talking to a friend about [insert personal growth topic here]," more than likely I was talking to Lynn.

She gets (or pretends to get, which is just as good) extremely excited about any successes in my life. She's the person who is responsible for me thinking about what I would do if I knew I could not fail. She sets Goals, and I love Goals.

I'm jealous of Lynn's musical ability. She probably knows three different parts to more songs than I know. She has an excellent memory for music, both lyrics and notes. She knows a ton about period costumes and is willing to make Damn Blue Dresses for an entire production.

Lynn's the most likely to get righteously indignant with me. She's also the most likely to understand what it's like to be terrified and yet move forward anyway.

I want her good karma to make the rest of her life full of rainbows and puppies. Wait, Lynn is allergic. Full of rainbows and buttered scones.

The best word to describe Lynn is Wise. In a Magical Kingdom (not THAT Magic Kingdom--the kind without cartoon characters), she would be the one in a glittery dress with stars in her hair. She wouldn't need a wand, she could do magic with her mind.

I am grateful for Lynn. I am blessed to have her in my life.

Merry Christmas.