Tomte and the Crawfish Groove

Lila & AJ ~ Naples Dock, December 2012

At the end of this blog post, I'll have myself a title. I have none at this time, as my thoughts are not organized enough to formulate a sweet header. (Funny, kind readers, that you know the title before I do.) My lack of knowing what I'm about to write is perhaps due to the fact that I'm watching a random movie starring The Rock with the kiddos and a glass of Kenny Jay, in addition to me being sick of my self-inflicted, bi-monthly thesis of sorts, containing succinct theme and corresponding pics. At this point in my post, I'm gravitating toward the title "Umm," which I quite like.

This morning, I awoke from a dream about a tsunami-sized wave screaming to me, "Corinthians Two!! Corinthians Two!!" In my 6am REM, I'd been cast as a cheesy news anchor standing alongside the treacherous coast, offering to my viewers the most important things one must do when confronted with a ginormous wall of water: "Look it right in the face, then dive under..." I remember being incredibly fearful and blanking out on what to do next, right as the wave whispered "Corinthians Two..." one last time, and I opened my eyes.

I sleep with my iPhone. Maybe it's an issue, maybe it's normal, maybe it's because I'm texting my friends/fam and playing WWF until I pass out. But it was right there, and I immediately Googled 'Corinthians 2':

When I came to you, I did not come with eloquence or human wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.

Sometimes I'll incorporate background TV noise into my dreams. I've had long-ass nocturnal journeys involving taunting Cuddle Uppets and the dire need for face cream. This night, 'Soundscapes' was on at decibel 3. Read: George Winston, barely audible... The religious channel was not on so dream osmosis was not at play.

Anyone who knows me well will tell you that, when it comes to religion, I'm spiritual, searching, and not ultra-organized. I believe in God, I know Jesus lived (and was beyond amazing), I love Buddha, Judaism is beautiful, as is Allah, reverence should be paid to nature, and it pains me that all religions have a tough time co-existing. Oh, and miracles do happen. This nocturnal wave spouting "Corinthians Two" either meant I should immediately invest in Corinthian leather or... that I should pay attention. To what, I'm not sure.

Of late, my attention has been paid to...

Elves on shelves. I give credit to creativity, always. I knew enough not to invest in said elf this year (or any), as my creative streak has been stretched to the limit with refinishing furniture and making meals magically appear out of tunafish and Christmas cookies. However, we are not elf-less this holiday, per se. My mom sent to me in the mail Tomte, of the Swedish gnome variety. I've been perching him atop lofty shelves since we received him a few days ago, explaining to the kids that during his travels from piano to stair rail, Tomte stops by Mommy's iPhone to send off a quick naughty/nice text to Santa. Today, Tomte sat among our dusty fake plants, twelve feet above our living room:

• Lila: "How did Tomte get there?"
• Me: "I'm not sure. Maybe he flew?" 
• Silence from Lila and an inspection. Then, "No wings." 
• Me: "He's got legs underneath that big beard."
• Lila: "His feet are stuck to his neck."
• Me: "It's Christmas magic."
• Lila: "Oh. OK." 

Santa. I found a few glorious hours to myself the other day and went shopping. By myself. Big deal here. When walking by a fake Santa, I offered up a "Hi, Santa!" to which the 97-year-old replied, "Mmm, hmmm.... let's get me some o' dat right NOW" while staring at my ass. I truly wish I had a great retort, but who honestly is that spontaneous with some rendition of a 'merry fuck-you' to Santa? I ran into Barnes & Noble and pretended to look for the new Killers CD. Should've bought it. Damn you, creepy Santa.

Music, and minds. I drove to the east coast a few weeks ago and listened to NPR on the ride. The discussion was about how minds work, with attention paid to music's great influence on the brain. Apparently, we humans like music and want and desire something to tap our toe to. It can be called a Groove, I guess. Once there's a rhythm, we want to tap away. Enter Stevie Wonder and Janis Joplin who eff with our sense of rhythm and 'what goes next', and we're intrigued. They don't play by the rules. We want more. We like the unexpected. Enter Santa, and elves on shelves. And life.

Holidays. I miss Heather. I was in a random shoe store yesterday and missed my Grammy to the point of crying. I miss Pop, and Nana, and Grampy, and my friends Eric and Sean. I want everything to be like it was, when it was lovely. Holidays are hard, just as much as they are beautiful. Perhaps there's an OK way to mix all of it up and appreciate what we have and DESPERATELY miss what we had. Some sort of groove has got to be there, no?

The good. AJ asked me today, "Does pretty and amazing mean beautiful?" I told him yes, and he said, "Well then, you're beautiful."

The odd. Ang went biking today and confronted a crayfish (?!) The rather large, red, mini-lobster, who was click-clacking across the sidewalk (Again, ?!), got into a sort of standoff with my hubby. He finally backed up and let Ang by. There is no more to this story, other than the fact that I am obsessed with it.

It's Monday now. I wrote all of the above last night and am apparently a horrific editor past 10pm. So, I've proofed it and I'm giggling at how random all of this is. Tsunamis spouting bible verses, texting Swedish gnomes, freaking sidewalk lobsters... All of this crazy and still no theme. I've got this. Let me try to pull it all together for you: No matter how many creepy Santas one encounters, it's important to find your own groove, stand up for yourself when confronted with a pedestrian crustacean, and read the Bible. No. How about: Holidays may be difficult at times, but even if your legs are stuck to your neck, you've got to dive under and buy that damn Killers CD. No? Shit.

Well, how about this: I love you for reading. Have an awesome week!

xo

It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see ~ Henry David Thoreau