Homance Diaries

I am sitting here tonight overwhelmed with emotion. Frankly, I am super proud of myself and deliriously happy. I just spent a couple of hours in my very own house in Shaker Heights. To most people, it might just seem like a new house in my still newish city is the next logical step after taking my new job last year. But, it’s so much more than that. This house? Is all mine. I picked it out and it’s a big part of my new future. And I really, really love it.

Over the past several years, my life has been so up and down, so wrought with turmoil and negative emotion and negative people, that being in that house today felt like I could really breathe for the first time in a really long time.

These keys are the key to my future. They mean I want to build roots here and stay for a while. They mean I really, really do like it here. For me, it means I want to create a home and, for the first time in a long time, I feel safe and stable and content.

What it also means is that I didn’t settle. My last house was not the one I picked and it was co-owned with my ex. And I settled because that is what I did back then. This house? All mine. I picked it. I am going to change it, update it, and put a fantastic bathtub in it. For me. Because I deserve it. And I didn’t settle because that is not what I do anymore.

I’m looking forward to sitting on the porch and waving at my neighbors (and judging them back, LOL). I am looking forward to planting flowers and maybe a garden. It has a big bar that I am going to paint orange and blue (obv) and a beautiful deck where I can have big parties! (Maybe you all will be invited!)

If I thought 2012 was good for me, it looks like 2013 will be even better.

People, I am an unstoppable, fantastical, sometimes spastic, always adorable, force of nature.

So I’ve got a lot going on in the next few weeks and I’m trying my hardest not to let my anxiety about all the things get carried away. Because I NEVER worry about anything.

Me and the boy. We’re so adorable, I know.

On May 30 (next Thursday!), my boyfriend is moving in with me! I’m beyond excited, but I’m also really nervous. He currently lives in Buffalo and we’ve only ever dated long-distance. So I know living together is going to be a lot different than weekend visits every month and nightly phone calls, but I’m looking forward to taking this next step in our relationship. It’s going to be so wonderful to cuddle up with him every night and wake up next to him each morning. I’m excited about going on weekly dates with him and exploring everything Cleveland has to offer together. I’m even looking forward to curling up on the couch with him and reading while he plays video games.

Mentally transitioning from “me,” “mine,” and “yours” to “we,” “us,” and “ours” has not been easy. I’ve become accustomed to living alone and it doesn’t help that we’ll be living in an apartment that I chose, not somewhere we chose together; however, he really does like my apartment, so at least there’s that. I’m mostly worried that he’s going to move in and decide that he hates me. That’s rational, right? Thankfully, he’s always been very good at assurances when my brain goes crazy like that.

When we first started exchanging messages on a dating site about a year ago, I never expected our conversations to turn into a serious relationship. I’m so thankful that he decided to message me even though we were three hours apart. I’m going to stop this before I get too mushy, but I’ve never been happier and he greatly contributes to my happiness.

A week after the boy moves in (June 6), I’m getting LASIK surgery! I actually go for my final pre-operative appointment on the day he moves in, so I may or may not be home when he arrives. I went for a consultation on Monday at the Cleveland Clinic and, after an incredibly long appointment with lots of waiting, I was told that I was a candidate for surgery. Apparently, some people in my prescription range (it’s horrible) aren’t able to get the surgery done, so I was quite relieved. I wasn’t anticipating being able to have my surgery done so soon, but my doctor only operates the first Thursday of every month and July is out because that’s the Fourth of July.

When the doctor told me that I’d be able to read a clock on the wall of the operating room immediately after my procedure, I almost burst into tears. I’ve been wearing glasses since the second grade. I don’t remember being able to read a clock on the wall without my glasses on. The last time I could see a clock on the wall without glasses would’ve been in first grade, and I don’t even know if I could tell time then.

This is basically what I see now without glasses.

People have suggested that I just get contacts, but this isn’t about me wanting to get rid of my glasses. I actually really like how I look in glasses. My doctor assured me that he could make my vision perfect, so I’m going to have to adjust to no longer wearing glasses. It’s going to be a shock to see my face in the mirror every morning for quite some time. Currently, my field of vision is about six inches. If something is six inches away from my face, I can see it clearly. Anything beyond six inches is blurry beyond recognition. Getting LASIK done will greatly enhance my quality of life. I’ll be able to see the minute I open my eyes. Currently, I have to squint at my large numbers clock to see the time.

I have a feeling that June 6 is going to be a really emotional day for me. If I’m able to cry tears after surgery, I’m sure I’ll be sobbing. I’ve had glasses for more than 20 years of my life and I can’t imagine being able to see without them. So if you see me, and I’m pushing imaginary glasses up my face, now you know why.

So yeah, two big life-changing events happening within a week of each other. Go big or go home, right? RIGHT? So here’s hoping I won’t be an emotional trainwreck by the time my 30th birthday rolls around on June 9. Oh right. I forgot to mention I was turning 30 this year, didn’t I? That’s not a big deal or anything. Ha!

I love my grandma. I really do. But she’s also a big part of the reason I had low self-esteem while I was growing up and why I’m such an insane perfectionist to this day.

Expressing her feelings has never come easily to my grandma. So, in order to prove her love to me, she bought me things. I had an entire stable full of My Little Ponies, including the Pony Palace. She was convinced that Beanie Babies were going to pay for my college education, so she bought me pretty much every Beanie Baby ever, including ones that were “retired” and cost $50 each at mall kiosks. At report card time, each A earned me $25 and each B earned me, “You’ll have to do better next time, honey.” I wanted her approval, so I, of course, tried harder next time.

But after a while, it got harder and harder to please her. She was constantly trying to push me into doing things or wearing things I didn’t want to because that’s what “all the other girls were doing/wearing.” She tried to talk me into a perm when I was in middle school. I would’ve looked like a poodle. I tried contacts in high school because she told me I looked so much better without my glasses. To her, my hair has ALWAYS looked better longer. I think she would have rather have to bail me out of jail than see me cut my hair. Even to this day, every time I see her, she scrutinizes my hair to see if it’s shorter than it was the last time she saw me.

She hated that I never went to church. To her, going to church made one a good person. She always compared me to this girl from my class who went to church every weekend, saying that she was SUCH A NICE GIRL. Well, that nice girl now has three children by three different fathers and has been in and out of jail for bar fights. Going to church definitely made her a MUCH better person, as you can see.

My grandma is convinced that anyone I meet on the internet is going to kill me. I guess Winey is in this for the very long con and plans to kill me any day now. ANY DAY. My mom told me not to tell my grandma how my boyfriend and I met (we met on OKCupid). But I’m a terrible liar, and when my grandma asked how he and I met, I couldn’t help but blurt out the truth (though I did leave off the dating website part, as that probably would’ve given her a heart attack). Her response? “Ohhhh,” which is uttered in a highly disapproving tone.

When I visited family for Christmas, my grandma took me shopping. Remember that she equates spending money with love. However, my grandma will only buy me things she wants me to have. If she doesn’t like the pair of shoes I do or the dress I want, she won’t buy it. She’ll say that she’ll buy me something else instead, attempting to steer me in the direction she wants me to go. I think it’s her way of still trying to make me be like “all the other girls.”

During that shopping trip, we were sitting on a mall bench, talking about my high school friend who had recently met her boyfriend through an online message board for the disease they share. She was going on and on about how wonderful it was for my friend to find a boyfriend like that. Meanwhile, I was thinking, “What the fuck? Who replaced my grandma with an internet-loving pod person?” Then she turned to me and said, “You still don’t have a boyfriend then, honey?” That offended me for two reasons: 1) It’s like she thought that I wouldn’t be a whole person without a boyfriend and 2) I do have a boyfriend! I had told her about him the last time I visited in August. So I reminded her about my boyfriend and she asked what he looked like. I had a recent picture of him on my phone, so I pulled it up and showed her. Her response? “Ohhh. He has a beard then.” That was it.

Needless to say, I don’t plan to tell my grandma that my boyfriend is moving in with me at the end of the month (SQUEE!). She’ll flip her shit and maybe even stop talking to me. When my parents bought the house I grew up in, my grandma didn’t speak to them for an entire year because she thought the house was ugly and a waste of money. So I’m sure she will be equally appalled that I am living with my boyfriend who I met on the internet. I know she’ll find out eventually, but the longer I can put it off, the better. I’d prefer not to give her a stroke.

I know my grandma means well and she only acts this way out of concern for me. You know, like when she called to tell me not to leave my laptop on my bed any more. According to a news report she heard, leaving my laptop on my bed would cause it to catch on fire. I definitely could’ve lived without feeling like I was never good enough while I was growing up, though. Now I just kind of laugh it off, but that’s a lot easier when you’re 29 than when you’re 13.

I have lots of fond memories of my grandma, too. She would spend hours helping me style all of the My Little Ponies I owned. She always let me take the longest baths and showers ever during which I spent more time playing than actually getting clean. I would dance around her basement to an 8-track tape of Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass Band for HOURS. She would let me wear her ridiculous costume jewelry around the house so I could feel like a princess. She’s never been a good cook, but she would make me Eggo Waffles when I spent weekends there and I thought they were the best things ever. I guess I just wish that she’d learn there are other ways of expressing love and they don’t have to include money or material things.

So it’s been a while since I’ve written on this blog now that I’m all fancy over at the bosslady blog. But, I have a big day at the doctor’s tomorrow and I am a wee bit depressed about it before I even know what she’ll say. You see, I feel like a complete wimp for saying this, but I feel like less of a woman having to consider what I am considering. If reading about my emotions and my uterus are not your thing, feel free to skip this post. I completely understand.

I have a condition that is wreaking havoc (and has been for years) on my uterus called adenomyosis (please feel free not to google). The whole damn thing has all gone to hell. At first, I was misdiagnosis. This diagnosis is actually a bit worse because some options for ending periods that work for things like cysts, won’t work for me. For some conditions, end the period and you end the pain. But this has become worse than that.  I’ve been body scanned, MRIed, xrayed, poked, prodded, and medicated. The only cure is removal of the organ. Interim cures, including birth control pills, gave me whole different side effects like making me completely emotional unstable, weight gain, oh and stroke risk. So, my new doctor and I decided that was not the best course of action. Mentally, since being off the pill for the past three months I feel so much better. But the pain is now not just during my period, it is almost everyday and it makes everyday uncomfortable. Last night was possibly one of the worst nights ever and I can’t live on pain killers forever (which actually just dull the pain). I have medication right now for pain and to control the blood loss, but it makes me sick to my stomach. So that’s a great choice.

I know what I need to do and I know what is best. But, there is this part of me that feels like if I get my uterus removed, I will be less of a woman. I mean, isn’t the uterus the actual symbol of our femininity?  I’ve been so happy in the past few years to really find myself and be comfortable with my own sexuality like never before in my life and then I turn around and get smacked with having to give up this life giving organ. But, as a consolation, I keep my ovaries!

It is almost a secondary consideration (but one that I act like really makes it a hard decision) that the recovery time is around six weeks and I have this new job and all of this responsibility and OMG how will I survive? (And if you’re wondering, yes @bitchylibrarian swears she will take care of me THOUGH I DO NOT NEED ANYONE TO DO THAT.) Plus, it is a major surgery (I am hoping to talk laproscopic surgery tomorrow) and there are risks associated with that. But, I am hoping that I can get over the fact that my ladybits have given up and if I want to live a pain free existence, it’s time to let it go.

And I know plenty of people have worse health decisions to make and just harder things to think about and take action upon in their lives. I do. I feel like a baby for complaining at all. But there you have. Winey is a big baby about her uterus.

Anyway, here’s to health.

For the past seven and a half years, I’ve always lived about 45 minutes away from my job. There were a few moves here and there, but nothing that ever took me closer to where I worked. At first, I didn’t mind it. The long drive gave me time to unwind and listen to music. For awhile, I carpooled to work, which helped save on gas. But now, after seven and a half years and 188,465 miles on the road to and from work, not to mention the hours I’ve spent driving after 7.5 years (246,538 hours, if you were curious), it’s well past time for me to move closer to work.

So I neurotically started searching for a new place to live in early January. I woke up in a panic one morning, worrying about where I was going to live, and I started looking that day. Of course, it was too early. No one wanted to rent a place to someone who wanted a late February move-in. I knew I wanted to live in either Shaker Heights or Cleveland Heights, and Cleveland Heights proved to have lower rents. I knew I didn’t want to live in a generic apartment building. If I was moving to this area, I wanted a place with class. I also wanted a place that didn’t require me to use a community laundry room, so basically any apartment building was out of the question. So I scoured Craigslist for multi-family home listings. If my grandma knew I found my new place on Craigslist, she’d have a stroke and a heart attack. She believes that the internet is evil and that everyone I meet on the internet is planning to kill me. But I found the perfect place on Craigslist: hardwood floors, my own washer and dryer, lots of space, AND in a neighborhood I like.

Honestly, I won’t know what to do with my extra time. My new place is only about five minutes from my library. Currently, I get home an hour after I get off work, throw some quick-cooking food together and call it dinner, watch Netflix on my couch while I eat, call my boyfriend, and fall asleep. In the morning, I stay in bed for as long as humanly possible before dragging myself out from under the covers, shower, half-assedly do my hair, throw on clothes, toss leftovers in my lunch bag, and make a breakfast I can eat in my car. Lather, rinse, repeat for the past seven and a half years.

My living space is in a constant state of clutter. Right now, when I get home, I just throw my shit on the floor because I’m hungry and tired. I never eat at my table, mostly because I can’t. It’s frequently littered with mail, clean tupperware, and other random things I never get around to dealing with. I always tell myself that I’ll clean things up on the weekend, but I’m either too tired on the weekends, too busy doing laundry, or spending time with my friends.

There are a lot of things I’m looking forward to doing post-move.

• I’ll be able to cook and eat a leisurely breakfast before work instead of figuring out car-friendly breakfast ideas that aren’t granola bars (seriously, after seven years of granola bars, you get a little tired of them). Maybe I’ll even master the art of omelette-making, though I won’t hold my breath on that one. Even if I just eat a bowl of cereal in front of my TV in the morning, I’ll still consider it a breakfast success.
• I’ll be able to actually cook a real dinner, instead of reheating some sort of convenience food. Yes, I get most of my convenience food items from Trader Joe’s, so at least they’re good for me, but I miss the act of cooking. I’m a big fan of trying new recipes and I’ve already checked a few cookbooks out from the library!
• There’s a community recreational center just down the street from where I’ll be living. I’d been planning to re-join a gym, but wasn’t sure how to fit time to go into my life. If I wake up at the same time I’ve been waking up, I’ll have an extra hour to do whatever I want.  Not that going to the gym ranks high on that list, but I am pitifully weak and I’d like to change that.
• I am a five minute walk away from Coventry Village. I look forward to walking there over the summer and eating and drinking on every patio in the neighborhood. Plus, as an added bonus, I can stumble home later with little effort on my part.
• I’ll be able to keep a clean place. I have no more excuses now. I’ve never been a fan of cleaning, but if I keep up with the clutter, there won’t be as much to clean at the end of the week. I plan to wash my dishes every night and not leave things where they don’t belong. I plan to channel my inner Winelibrarian every night and keep my place clean.
• I’ll be a million times closer to Winey! While we won’t be neighbors, it will no longer take me almost 45 minutes to get to her place.
• My new place has lots of built-in shelving and cabinets. I’m really excited to finally be able to display the dishes my grandma gave me two years ago. They’re not fine China, but I would only eat off of them if I had a dinner party. My grandma would break out these dishes when she used to host a family Christmas dinner. She had a serving for 16 and split the two sets between my cousin and I.
• I’ll also have a window seat! I already purchased new pillow covers for the pillows I plan to buy for the seat from The Pillow People on etsy (she’s apparently taking a break right now, but check out their sales to see what her work looks like). I had a hard time choosing what designs I wanted, so I got two different ones, then ordered new pillow covers for my couch, too. WHY NOT? In the summer, I plan to sit on the window seat and read.
• I’ll have a big front porch. Once spring hits, I want to get some outdoor furniture so I can drink a beer on my porch and read or do whatever the fuck I want.

I think this move will be good for me. I’ll more time and energy to do the things I want to do. Finally. I’m tired of being so tired all the time.

Also? I’ll be posting photos of my place after I get all moved in. I love seeing how people decorate their houses, so I figure everyone is nosy like me.

I tend to go a little…overboard during the holidays when it comes to spending. In fact, I opted to pay half of my credit card bill in the middle of the month so that I wouldn’t have a coronary when the whole bill was due at the end of the month (I’m one of those people who refuses to carry a balance on a card). I’ll probably still have a coronary, but at least it will just be a mild one. I hope.

So Winey and I were talking (as we often do) and she thought that it would be nice to start the new year without excess spending after the holidays. And with that, #NoSpendJanuary was born. I know that sounds daunting. But it’s not like we’re going to stop buying groceries, though I do plan to use up a lot of stuff in my cabinets before things expire. Does pasta expire? If so, I’m going to need to eat A LOT of pasta. But the point is, I don’t need any more pasta when I go grocery shopping.

#NoSpendJanuary is more about seeing what you can do without. Do you really NEED all that shit from Target or do you just need the shampoo you actually came in for? Do you really NEED that latte from Starbucks, or can you brew your own coffee at home and pour it into a travel mug? Do you NEED that pair of black heels when you already have 10 other pairs? Do you NEED another pair of underwear or a bra when your lingerie drawer is already overflowing?

So what are we committing to this #NoSpendJanuary?

Winey:

• No shoes
• No clothes
• Only necessities from Target
• No Starbucks
• No lingerie
• Bring lunch to work

Bitchy:

• No shoes
• No clothes
• Only necessities from Target
• No lingerie (EVEN THOUGH IT IS THE VS SEMI-ANNUAL SALE)
• Eat mostly food I have already purchased (frozen foods, dry foods)
• No fast food/convenience foods
• Bring lunch to work

We also plan to track our spending and create budgets on the Mint.com app. I just loaded my bank account into it and I already hate myself. I spent over $800 on shopping in December alone. So I plan to create a budget and actually stick to it. $800 on clothes and shoes and lingerie? That’s appalling. I mean, not all of it was for me, obviously, as I was buying gifts for Christmas, but I also did a lot of buying for myself over the past few months. It’s already created a budget for me, perhaps based on previous spending, but I plan to sit down and actually use the Mint.com app to create a budget that I can live with. I only spent $56 in groceries for December, yet I spent over $200 eating out at restaurants and grabbing food from fast food places. THERE IS SOMETHING VERY WRONG WITH THAT.

When we tweeted about this, some people responded that this was going to be hard. WAH WAH WAH. Well, obviously it’s going to be hard. Spending money is the easy part. Saving money is difficult, especially when it’s so easy to just swipe a card. And like Winey said, “Sometimes hard things are good for you.” AND GET YOUR DAMN MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER. The point is, you learn from the difficult things in your life. If everything was easy, what would be the point? If you put your bank account/credit cards into the Mint.com app and aren’t concerned by your spending, you either already have amazing self-discipline or you’re crazy.

Honestly, I see a lot of this continuing on past January. I don’t need any more shoes. Really. I don’t. I have all the shoes I could ever want and more. I shouldn’t stop and pick up dinner as much as I do. If I planned ahead, I’d be able to do more cooking at home when I got home from work, no matter what time that is. And do I really need YET ANOTHER cardigan from Target? Damn you, Target.

So who’s with us? Who else is going to commit to #NoSpendJanuary? And what are you not going to spend money on? And download the Mint.com app! It will make you sick to your stomach, I can assure you.

Oh, and stay tuned for another #tendaypurge! We plan to bring that back for the new year, too!

So, I had a sort of emotional morning this morning. I mean, I am totally fine but someone I will always care about is totally not and so, anyway, the wheels in my brain have been turning and I was thinking about a conversation I had about someone about the movie Love Actually. And, actually, if you do not love this film or cannot find something in this film that touches you deeply, we can totally not be friends. It is beautifully intertwined stories of love. It is silly. It is pretty. There are pretty people in it. All of the things that you need to make a really good “girl” film, though I hate calling it that. And, it’s centered around the holidays, so you know. I’ve watched it a few times recently.

And I sob big, heaving, cathartic sobs every time.

Let me get to my point. You see, my favorite characters are not the ones who end up happily ever after. They aren’t Hugh Grant and that adorable girl (WHO DOES NOT HAVE BIG THIGHS, HARUMPH.) though they are really like a close second because Hugh Grant’s character dances around in his underwear. But, also, Colin Firth learning Portuguese to talk to a woman? I suppose that would be like a man learning shoe to talk to me. While this is fantastic, still not my favorite.

No, my favorite characters are Mark and Juliet. There are LOTS of reasons why Mark being hopelessly in love with his best friend’s wife are ALL WRONG, but he took the biggest risk. He brings the boom box, plays a song, and uses the cue cards. I am going to leave off the ending here because I’ve been bitched at on the Twitter for spoilers, but HERE you go.

DIES.

You can’t help who you fall in love with, but you can take the risks in life. Wasn’t it Mark Twain who said you never regret the things you do, just the things you don’t? Or something. And taking a risk certainly doesn’t mean just in LOVE stuff. Really, most of mine have not been. Haha.

So, I never, ever make resolutions. I make promises to myself. I made three to myself last year.

1. Take a big risk and change my life (done).

2. Buy a pair of Louboutins (OK, I got the Kate Spade shoes instead).

3. Just rest assured that this one is done and it involved kissing.

I am working on next year’s promises to myself list and I have two so far. One is that I am going to go back to grad school to get my Ph.D. That’s right, you all can call me Dr. WL. (I feel like this is obviously a huge risk but it’s something I have always wanted to do.)

Where was I going with this? I am going to challenge you, our dear readers (and stalkers) to take at least one risk in your life next year. Just one. Do something you have always wanted to do but have been afraid for some reason. Try something different. Learn to be alone. Learn to be happy with yourself. Wear heels. Tell your boss you deserve a raise. Tell your mother to mind her own business.

What do you have to lose? What is the worst thing that will happen? Your boss says no. Your feet hurt. You feel lonely for a time. You walk away knowing that you tried.

If the opposite happens, and you end up with your happy learned Portuguese and learned English together ending, then all the better. But you have to start with a risk.

So, in the spirit of Christmas, I thought I’d share my feelings and hopes for the holidays. Really, since I also made fun of Bitchy for loving Christmas movies, I should admit up front that I am all for mushy, romantic, love filled Christmas gestures. SUE ME. I will never be (ever again) one of those women who doesn’t admit that she hopes for nothing more than sweet words, romantic gestures, and even maybe cue cards and boom boxes. There, I said it.

Now, on with the story.

Nearly my whole entire life, my Christmases have sucked. Big time. I have few really good Christmas memories from my childhood. I have tons of bad ones. One benefit of getting older is that my memories of those bad times do fade into the recesses of my mind, but yeah, Christmas was not cookies and presents and trips to visit Santa when I was a kid. Christmas for me was violence and screaming and drunken, violent adults and, more often than not, police sirens. You know those holiday parties everyone goes to? You have a couple of drinks with friends, talk about good times, share gifts, do weird things like ugly sweater exchanges? Well, my mom and my step-father’s parties were always ones that you knew would end in someone getting hit, possibly the cops being called, and raging, raging screaming all night.

I hated Christmas. New Year’s Eve was worse because add hillbillies with fireworks and shotguns.

I will never forget the Christmas Eve when my mom had me run to a neighbors in the snow to call the police because he had beaten her again. My neighbors were my step-grandparents. They wouldn’t let me call, but tried to give me my presents early to appease me. I went to the next neighbors. When the cops got there, they told my mom that she’d be the one who would have to leave because he was the man of the house. Have to love the early eighties and women’s rights right there.

My suspicions about Santa were confirmed when I was eight years old. I was a normal kid who poked around everywhere looking for signs of wrapped presents because how could a dude make it around the world in ONE night? The same usual scene had happened on Christmas Eve and I woke up in the middle of the night and there were no presents under the tree. My little sister, who was two, was still sleeping. My mom was passed out in a chair with puke all over her, stepdad was gone. This image I will never forget. I looked around in her closet, under the beds. But I realized I had to find the presents and wrap them for my sister. I went downstairs to the creepy old basement and there they were, most unwrapped. So, I brought them upstairs and wrapped them. And no one said a word about it in the morning.

Up until I was about 14 when my grandmother adopted me and moved me to Florida, Christmas was always like this and sometimes worse. I especially hated Christmas vacation from school because school was my safe place.

It took me a long time to really enjoy and love Christmas and, mostly, these days, I can avoid the temporary depression that grabs a hold of a lot of people during the holidays. Fast forward to the last few years…I don’t spend Christmas with much of my family because, well, see above and/or the awkwardness of being around people for the holidays that you can’t stand. Personally now I try to make Christmas about the people I really care about in my life and I try to make Christmas really special for the most important people.

I do Christmas cards, I make cookies, and I buy entirely too many presents. I buy Christmas presents for months and months beforehand. I buy little things that remind me of people and I often forget things I’ve purchased and pull them out after Christmas when cleaning out a closet. It’s not that I am materialistic (OK, I have a shoe problem), but even little tiny things that make me think of someone I want to GIVE to people. I love ALL of the Christmas specials, Christmas music, cocoa and fuzzy slippers, etc etc. This year I only took out about 25% of my Christmas decorations because I don’t have as much space and I still have Christmas night lights and hand towels in both bathrooms. CHEESE BALL CITY.

The other things I always do: donate to a local food pantry, donate to toys for tots, choose children from a Salvation Army tree and purchase their presents, and give cookies to my neighbors. I probably am also prone to attacks of emo mush towards the people I love. It’s a good thing that they already like me. I mean, if you can’t find it in your heart to share your emotions at Christmastime, then boo on you.

What I don’t do? I don’t wallow in the past and feel sorry for myself.

I hope that all of you, my dear readers, have a wonderful, happy, love-filled holiday season. And here’s to a fabulous 2013.

(And even you guys who read this blog to continue to stalk and harass, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.)

I’m going to confess something, dear readers. This is something I’ve only recently confessed to Winey, so you know it’s big. It’s not that I’m afraid that anyone will judge me (okay, maybe just a little bit), but it’s just something that seems so silly. But here goes:

Christmas turns me into a huge romantic sap.

It’s true. No  other time of the year makes me mushy like Christmas. It’s not that I’m a cynical person by nature any other time of the year, but there’s something about Christmas that just gets me. Maybe it’s the scent of pine trees. Or the ribbons; I really do like ribbons. Or maybe it’s just because I love buying things for people and this is the one time of year that no one can complain about presents. Or maybe it’s the snow. There’s a certain amount of romance in the first snowfall of the year; you know, before it gets all brown and sludgey and you’re totally sick of it.

I’ve read all the Christmas-themed romance novels my library owns. but not the Debbie Macomber or Thomas Kinkade ones; I do have standards, you know. I spent all day Saturday watching cheesy Christmas romance movies on Netflix. And not even the good ones like Love Actually or well, are there any other *good* Christmas romance movies? The ones I watched were ABC Family specials starring Melissa Joan Hart, Mario Lopez, and Mark Paul Gossler.

My favorite Christmas romance scenario is when a girl drags a complete stranger along with her to Christmas with her family, under the guise that he’s her boyfriend. Then, over the course of just a few days and a several glasses of egg nog, they fall completely in love with each other. Yes, I know. I’m weird. I realize that that would never happen in real life. It’s completely unrealistic that two completely strangers would declare their love for each other after only days of knowing each other, just because it’s Christmas. But that’s kind of the point. Christmas magic and all that shit. I mean, it’s what brought Frosty the Snowman to life, so why can’t it make two people fall in love?

It’s not as though I want to recreate these stories in my own life. I’m happy with the way my life is going. I’ve always thought that kisses under the mistletoe would be awkward. It’s awkward enough bringing a significant other home for the holidays, let alone a complete stranger. I’m not very good at winter sports, so spontaneous kisses while ice skating? Totally out. I fall enough on my own without the added distraction of kisses. And don’t get me started on Christmas carols. There’s no way you’ll ever see me going out and singing “Jingle Bells” with a group of people, not even if I’m really drunk.

I think what it comes down to is that I want to believe in happy endings because not believing in them is scary. Will I get my own happy ending if I don’t believe they can happen in books and movies? If someone can fall in love with a flawed character, then that means that someone can fall in love with me, too, no matter how silly that sounds. Despite being divorced, I’m still hoping for my own happy ending. I know it’s on the naive side, but these books and movies make happy endings seem a little more possible, even for me. I’m not expecting some grand, unrealistic gesture, like a boom box and declarations of love written on cue cards. Let’s get real. I mean, do boom boxes even exist any longer? But seriously, just a small gesture that makes me feel special appreciated is all I’ve ever really wanted.

Though, if I’m being completely honest, I’ve always wanted to make a snowman with someone I care about. Or start a snowball fight that ends in kissing in a snowbank and is followed by hot chocolate. But that’s it. Really. I promise.

Happy Holidays, and may all your wildest dreams come true.

I’ve always been the gift-giving type. The more I like you, the more I’ll randomly buy you something, just because it made me think of you. I give gifts to show that I care about someone. I think I do that because that’s a way my family has always shown love. My grandma regularly takes me on shopping sprees, but she’s never once told me to my face that she thinks I’m doing things right in my life. So I just have to assume that when she wants to buy me a new coat and boots that’s her way of saying that she loves me.

When my friend @MattKirschner started talking about the #25ActsofXmas he planned to do, I decided to jump on the Train of Good Cheer (oh god, I’m lame on a Saturday morning). I have pledged to do 25 random acts of kindness between now and December 25. Being in a service-oriented industry, I tend to always do things with kindness, but the point of this project is to go above and beyond. Or at least do something you wouldn’t normally do.

For my first random act of kindness, I mailed a care package off to Camilla Kuhns, a young woman who is in inpatient treatment for an eating disorder she’s been battling since she was quite young (WARNING: her blog may be triggering). I first learned of Camilla through a friend on Facebook and I’ve been following her blog since. Currently, she’s documenting her treatment through blog entries her father posts for her at the end of every week. Her treatment is very expensive  and I plan on donating to her treatment fund as well. Camilla is an extremely brave and beautiful person and I think she deserves this chance to get healthy.

I haven’t really thought too much about what I’m going to do for the rest of my #25ActsofXmas. I guess that’s the whole point. They’re supposed to be random acts of kindness. I have a few ideas of what I’d like to do during the month of December, however. I’m definitely going to need to come up with more ideas, though. Does anyone have any suggestions?

#25ActsofXmas Ideas

• Buy something at Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks and pay for the car behind me.
• Give someone who has no money 10 cents to print their document out at the library.
• Donate to a food pantry.
• Buy a friend a meal, hopefully one that involves bacon.
• Send a Christmas card to a random person I find in the phone book.
• Buy a gift for Toys for Tots.
• Smile at random people I pass on the street.
• Not honk at any drivers or be all road ragey.
• Bring donuts to work.
• Mail a gift I’ve been meaning to send for ages.

Clearly, those ideas won’t last me long, but I’m confident that I can do some random act of kindness every day, without planning it out in advance. You never know what will happen during the course of a day. The whole point of this project is to spread cheer and make someone’s day better. There are few things I like more than making someone smile. I like knowing that I’m the reason for a smile on someone’s face. So I encourage everyone to either join in on the #25ActsofXmas or at least spread a little cheer this holiday season. The holidays can be hard for people, so going the extra mile may inspire them to do something similar.

I’ve always loved the holiday season, but this year I feel even more excited about it. My Christmas last year was pretty low-key and my New Year’s Eve celebration turned out to be a complete disaster, so I’m looking forward to making better memories to replace last year’s. I’m spending Christmas with my parents this year and I plan to see some old friends. And this New Year’s Eve? I’ll be getting a kiss at midnight.