Christmas is for Canada Post

"What a lot we lost
when we stopped writing letters.
You can't reread a phone call."


~Liz Carpenter~

Dear Friend,

You know who you are. How are you doing way over there?  I hope you don't think that I've forgotten about you even though I haven't written in a long time.  I miss our talks, and knowing that you're just a few minutes away if I really need you.

Someone told me not so long ago that words are empty. Meaningless. Words on paper don't equal action. Maybe they're right. Maybe I, in particular write way better than I express myself in actions and spoken words. I guess we all have our strengths and weaknesses.

We're all so busy these days. Often it's just all we can do to get through our days from obligation to obligation, and isn't it odd that we really are hardest on the people who we love the most?

Anyway, I thought about you this weekend as I went about my solitary business. As I settled into my seat at the very back of the theatre to watch The King's Speech, I thought that you'd like it. I know you're not much for crowds, but I thought it would be nice if we were watching it together. It was a great movie, and as much as I've always not-so-secretly had a Hollywood crush on Colin Firth, I enjoyed Geoffery Rush's performance even more.  

You would have gotten a kick out of the blue-haired-matinee-set who mostly filled the theatre. They were so precious, I even had to forgive them their ringing cell phones. I mean, let's face it, all of that ringing was likely their 50 year old children checking up on them, and the poor dears have no idea how to answer the darn thing let alone dig through their coat pockets to turn them off.  You would have thought that the three old British ladies who cried at the end of the movie were adorable.

I was famished after the movie, and, since it was the dinner hour I gave into my craving for coconut curry and a beer.  You would have cringed at the loud music in the bar.  Britney Spears singing Joan Jett remakes is just wrong; Wrong, Wrong, Wrong.  Slithering Shakira punched up with some Quiet Riot and AC/DC...not my usual choice of ambiance. You would have been surprised perhaps to know that when I'm down and out, bone tired and sad that I go to this place to eat. I think I went there once last year. You see, I tuck myself in a corner booth and take a good look around. I know the menu, and what I like, so it's a quick in and out affair, but it gives me great perspective. 

I'm now convinced that all men under 50 in such places,  who are short and bald, with any bicep definition at all will wear shirts way too tight, and speak way too loudly. It's as if the great spirit has imbued them with an unexplainable sense of grandiosity. They think that everyone is infatuated with what they have to say. 

Also, I've decided that bald men with goatees look decidedly phallic - they look like large genitals or, bumholes.  Also, besides the cold beer, and the coconut curry, I know that I would never strike up any kind of intelligent conversation in such a place. Exactly what I was looking for.  I miss your company, and I don't really want to share my thoughts with anyone else. A mouth full of curry and beer is all I wanted, the loud music and obnoxious company just helped numb me out a little bit more.

The night before last I went wandering through a few shops because I just didn't want to go home yet. Sometimes it feels nice just to get out. I found this pretty china tea cup that I thought I might buy. It's always better to drink out of a nice china cup when you're sad right? Anyway, I took at look at the cup, and ironically, it was made in China. I miss you, but I'm not willing to put my health at risk by drinking out of a teacup infected with god only knows what kind of toxic material.  I went home and drank out of my glass mug instead and worked quietly away on my needlework.

We're ready for Christmas now. I just need to buy some last minute groceries to ensure the Christmas dinner traditions are complete; potatoes, turnip, and orange jello. Funny how jello always seemed to pull it all together for my family at Christmas time.  I think that says a lot about the family from wence I came....

The tree and decorations are up. Isn't it amazing how mesmerized we can be when the house is dark, and just the Christmas tree lights are on?  It makes me lonely and hopeful all at the same time. It was almost ten years ago to the day that my grandmother died. I always think about what I've done with my life since then. Kinda puts things in perspective as the years pass. Have I accomplished all I wanted? Have I been a good mother? How many more Christmas's will I have staring at this damn tree before bed time all alone?

I hope that you're doing well. I hope that your days aren't too hard. I'm glad that I know you have family around - that always helps.

Well, that's all for now. Nothing exciting here.  

Love you like waking up with no alarm clock,

Trish