Christmas Quandary

I have a question about Christmas decorations (or Chanukah, or Kwanza, or whatever you celebrate).

Are you imagining my house during the holidays? Lots of pretty shiny lights? Duh. But just so you know, I prefer tiny white lights, not the rainbow colors, and especially not the tiny blue lights. I don’t like them because they remind me of mint – and I can’t stand mint.

Anyway, I feel overwhelmed with all that has happened over the past year – in fact, I would classify 2011 as tsunami-grade chaos. Not good for ADHD types. So in an effort to avoid any additional stress, I decided that this year our family would have a tree-free, decoration-free Christmas. I explained to both my son and my husband that I’m not lacking holiday spirit, but rather I am seeking a little peace to end the year. All seemed fine.

Let me clarify one other thing: I say “I decided” because during the season, I am solely responsible for conjuring up the holiday “spirit.” Seriously. I am a one-woman decoration shop.

I told several people about this – and I was really surprised at the reactions. Some people actually said that it wasn’t fair to my son – what would his friends say? No Christmas tree? (the horror!) What kind of mom doesn’t have a tree? And others were the opposite – well good for you! Christmas is so commercialized – I agree you should boycott! (Sheesh, I didn’t say we weren’t going to have a Christmas – chillax people!)

Honestly, I hold neither of those views. I just want some quiet, not-so-shiny time. But, I am curious about what you guys think. Either side – dish it out. And I’d love to know how you would tell your kid(s) that this year would be different – a little less shiny, if you had made the same choice.

That is all.

Adventures in Photography: Mt. Auburn Edition

I’m obsessed with iPhoneography – ohhhh the art and beauty that can be captured anytime, anywhere! If you know someone with ADHD, the iPhone is probably the worst invention ever. If you are ADHD, the iPhone is probably the BEST invention ever.

Wherever I go, I see photo opps, and I frequently stop to take pictures of anything I find interesting, which is just about everything. This has kind of ruined my social life since most people don’t like to stop every 50 yards to take multiple pictures of anything. I guess to them, it gets old fast. Confession: sometimes I agree to go out with people just because I want to take pictures. Heh heh.

I had a doctor’s appointment the other day, and when it was over, I decided that I was going to take my new iPhone 4s out for a spin. I was in Mt. Auburn, which isn’t really the best part of town, but it has renovated and ramshackle buildings – both of which make great subjects. I end up on Glencoe Avenue, kind of a bad street, but it’s filled with beautiful pink and blue row houses. I get totally sucked in, and continue wandering around other abandoned streets that I had no idea existed. I also know full-well that this uber-friendly suburban white girl probably shouldn’t be wandering around abandoned structures in Mt. Auburn. But working in social services for 10 years, I’m not too worried. I’d be more likely run into a few clients I know.

By the end of my walk, I’m feeling exhilarated, and listening to Broadway tunes on Pandora, singing to myself. (Okay, not really to myself. More out loud. Whatever.) I see this scary car coming up the hill that starts to slow down when the person driving notices me. Again, not really worried, but I can tell this guy is like – ummm, seriously? Do you know where you are? My train of thought went something like this: “This guy is probably wondering who I am, so I’ll let him know I’m snapping pictures. How can I do this without having to approach the car?” I flash my smile, I wave at him, I point up to a window with some cool graffiti on it, I turn back around, point to my phone, and proceed to give him the thumbs up sign. Yes, I did.

But of course, he gets it! He smiles and waves back, then drives on. In my mind, I am positive he thinks I am a really cool gal. In his mind, he was probably thinking, “That is one crazy bleeeeep bleeeeeeeep bleeeeeep! I'm just gonna smile, drive on and pretend I didn't see a thing.” 


True story. Though next time I am probably going to take someone with me. I don’t want to be a crazy bleeeep bleeeep all by myself.

So, what’s on your nightstand?

I’ve always heard that what is on a person’s nightstand can tell you whether or not he (or she) is an intellectual. I hate to shock you all, but I’m no genius. (No, really. It’s true. Close your slack jaw.)

But you know what I can do with that button? Yah, that’s right. I can make a gum holder out of it. Or I can throw it at you. And the little red Lego? Watch out because I’ll put that thing on the floor when you’re not looking, and you’ll step on it. Oh, ouch. Score one for me. **fist bump** The little clippy thing used for securing an ace bandage could easily double as a Breathe Right strip. That sucker would not come off in the night, either. (BTW – I am not above that tactic.) Needle and thread: used for zipping up chatty kids. Safety pin: helloooo, bra clasp! Duh. And if you have to ask what the miniature magic eight ball is for, you’re not worthy of my blog.

Also – just FYI - I could empty out my purse at any point and put together something resembling the Starship Enterprise. You’d be amazed at what shiny gum wrappers (some with chewed gum), bank receipts and 83 pens can create!

I know you probably thought my nightstand would be neat and clean and filled with smarty pants things like Tolstoy or Rubik’s Cube or books of Sudoku, but I’m complicated enough without that crap cluttering up my head. So if your nightstand has a copy Popular Mechanics on it, I hope I don’t offend you when I say leave me to my stuff and take your intellectual self to the local Mensa chapter where you belong! My junk may not scream Harvard or Wharton School, but at least it’s functional. Like the paperback version of Anna Karenina that I use as a coaster. Take that, Tolstoy!

True story.

blame the toothpaste

I run about 10 minutes behind the rest of the world – I know this, and most people who know me know this. What most people don’t know is why. So I invite you for a tour of my head on any given morning.

Tuesday morning. Doctor appointment at 10:00. Showered, hair looks semi-okay, wearing the lightest clothes I can find because you know they are going to weigh me. I have the mental checklist going on: glass of ice for root beer , iPhone ear buds, don’t need the charger because I have an extra in the car, can of root beer already in purse, maybe I should wear different shoes that don’t weigh as much, make sure to wear glasses.

Crap I forgot to brush my teeth. Run back to bathroom, grab toothbrush. UGH. Where’s the freakin’ toothpaste?? Immediate thought: blame kid. I stomp off to the other bathroom, but I only find his nasty toothbrush, a dirty spit-filled sink and a tube of mint Crest that’s been left open and is oozing onto the counter. Meh. Mental note: make kid clean bathroom.

Maybe I left it in the shower?

Nope.

Would I have brought it to the kitchen? Unlikely, but not unheard of.

Nope.

Alright. Frantically search bathroom drawers. Nothing but my toothbrush.

Wait. What? My toothbrush? Look down at hand. Huh - look at that. It’s toothpaste I’ve been carrying around. **snort**  Oh dear. Hmmm. I start to worry about getting older. Could it be? Sure it could! But I much prefer to blame it on the ADHD – so much easier than admitting I just turned 40. Mental note: this really should be my next blog post. OH! I should take a photo of this for InstaGram.

Trot off to the kitchen, and I happen to find kid’s birthday ice cream sprinkles on the table – complete with candles. Oh I am so clever. Dump candles and toothpaste on kitchen table, take photo. Crap! I have a doctor’s appointment! Out the door.

Time wasted: exactly 10 minutes. Now you know.

Fast forward 12 hours. Need to brush before bed. UGH! Where is my toothpaste?

 
True story.

hello? is this thing on?

It’s been a year since my last post – WTP? I'm going to admit it - I got lost. Duh.

Really. I mean it – I was lost. I didn’t lose my URL or forget my password, I just got off the path. (Ok peanut gallery – this is where you chime in – YOU have a path? Ha ha – very funny.) Some of you know it’s been a miserable year for me, and I don’t particularly enjoy misery. And I say that in all seriousness because we all know plenty of folks who live for it. Some people bounce back quickly from this kind of stuff, others reflect and philosophize, some people drink heavily. But bouncing didn’t require much effort and left me uninspired; I’m not a philosophizer either, as that takes clear and uncluttered thought. I’m allergic to booze – so no luck there either.

I won’t recount the loads of not-particularly-joyous crap that’s happened this year. My therapist says I am supposed to leave that junk in a box on a shelf when I leave her office, which is a fantastic concept, except when I want to sneak into her office, grab the box and light that puppy on fire. **evil laugh*

So I’m slowly poking along, not thinking about that box as often as I used to, and figuring out where my sense of humor went. I know it’s here somewhere because it peeks its head out every so often just to say hello, like Stewie in Family Guy. (btw - watch the clip if you haven't seen it.)

My new goal is to grab it and hang on to it for a little longer each day. I’ll try being patient with it, maybe resist the urge to strangle it. Baby steps, you know? It’s like birthing a child, or more like a twin, or when I’m on a familiar trail but the season has changed. I recognize it, but it looks just a tiny bit different. So I’m going to call my blog “look, something kind of shiny” for a while – until I can be fully distracted by life’s amusements again.

Oh – about the socks. I just thought they were funny. And you know I like socks.

Ciao.