lisa lisa

there are a lot of things people could say about me.

there are many ways you could take me down, fill me up with sadness, make me feel like i am as small as they make 'em.

there are endless ways to get under my skin or get my goat.

however, no one can ever claim that i don't feel things deeply. specifically, no one can say that i missed the music of my teenage years, and that it didn't impact me in ways both tragic and spiritual. no one can say that top-40 didn't make me who i am today.

yesterday i proved that by singing the words to "all cried out" by lisa lisa. all the words. all. the. words. words that i haven't thought of in years came to me in a second before they were needed, and in kim's kitchen, amidst the women whom i love so much, i was a superstar. they were amazed by me, by my retention, by my devotion to retelling the tale of a love gone wrong. all i needed was a simple hello, people. but the traffic was so noisy that you could not hear my cry-ay-ay-ay.

i rocked that shit.

today i can't get the damned song out of my head, but laughing that hard with my best friends was worth it.

snowy heart.

drinking wine by myself, making soup, watching the snow fall down. this is the way i dreamed late december would always present itself to me in my midlife; this is the way the world should feel.

my kid is playing the piano in the background, some sort of meandering song that is paving the way for her to become more dear to me. the kitchen radio plays a boston station, and when the dj stops and talks about the weather i can look out the window and agree with her.

snuggled up with my other kid today and watched a movie; my arm around him, smelling the boy hair/shampoo/cold air scent of him, marveling at the momentary connection, grateful for the time when he loves me outright.

tomorrow i'll be spending the day with my dear friends east of the mississippi. we have no plans. we will meet up and make them. there will inevitably be food and drink, but the nourishment will come from being next to them, sharing the same air, and laughing together. after more than 25 years being friends, we are good at that. its one of the things that i'm best at, to be honest.

the snow is still falling, caught in the glow of the streetlamps. it's supposed to do this all night; wake me up with more winter to wrap me with, more winter to steel my soul against the inevitable return to los angeles heat. it does a body good, this cold, these flurries.

this is a good night.

i'm wishing i could take all the people in my life that i adore and need and make them be with me at this moment. all the los angelenos afraid of freezing temps, all the old friends lost to time and space, all the family estranged and strange--i'm wishing that i could have them all here with me right now. i would engulf each of them in a hug, look them in the eyes, and swear that this is a good life we have, made all the better by the fact that we would be together in this dream of a moment.

i would hug you tight, adore you for a few minutes, then send you on your way to wherever you are supposed to be. spend just enough time with you to let you know that i am grateful for you, grateful for whatever we've made together.

filled up, way up, with the kind of love that must make this world stay aloft.

the view.

day after.

christmas is officially over. we've done three versions of opening presents, the children are suitably happy, and now begins the part of my vacation where i can actually rest. in theory.

tonight i made vegan brownies and helped my mother-in-law make pasta fagiole and soon we'll all be having a family dinner--ten people around the table. there will be hot bread and warm soup and salad. later there will be fudgy chocolatey goodness with soy ice cream for me, because i deserve it this time of year. all year 'round, in fact.

feels like a holiday.

yesterday morning we woke up in my parents' extremely lopsided bed, under covers that had been keeping my family warm for decades, and smiled as my son came in and said, "well, it's a perfect white christmas!"

never has there been a more beautiful ten-year old boy to utter those words.

we looked outside and watched the snow fall gently, while we all exclaimed about how beautiful it was. the squirrels ran down the branches of the trees, knocking off snow in a line so quickly it looked like a kind of gorgeous explosion. selkie ran outside in her pajamas and got a handful of snow to eat, which started her feasting for the day.

it was perfect snow; crunchy and malleable, soft yet firm--the kind of snow that people write about. it is the kind of snow that makes me adore this place where i was born.

tonight we're waiting again for another snow to fall, this time it might be sizeable--possibly enough to go sledding in the schoolyard next to my in-laws' house. my children are happy.

i am happy. being here, being in this place, it rounds me out and makes me whole again. the cold air on my skin slaps me awake and reminds me that there is good, good, good all around me.

funny how the season that supports creatures rest and hibernation fires me up and lights me up from inside.

the meaning of christmas.

i listened to my friend mark maron's podcast today. he is one of my favorites, and his quirky blend of self-loathing and self-indulgence is familiar to me, so i appreciate him. today he was expounding about the feelings of the season, and wished everyone would find it in themselves to "be nice to the people who fucked you up".

happy holidays.

i've been here, in my parents' home, for a little less than three days, and i've maintained an aura of goodwill and good cheer that i'm pretty proud of. i've overlooked my parents' sniping at each other and let moments float by me where i used to jump in and engage in the madness. instead i've just offered up as much love as possible.

until this afternoon when we were going to exchange presents with my brother's family.

my mom insisted that she read the story of christmas to the grandchildren before they open the gifts. she insisted (erroneously) that she has read them the story every year. and she started off on us about how we've forgotten about the true meaning of why we celebrate christmas. why WE celebrate xmas.

we, meaning my family.

and the truth is, my children don't think about jesus's birth for a second during this time of year. they are not being raised in any church, under any mantle of belief other than we are here on this earth to take care of each other. they have to find their own way, make their own spiritual path, whatever that may be. it is not up to me or my husband to dictate an idea to them.

and it certainly is not up to my mother.

having a discussion (argument) about whether i found it appropriate that she decided to share a book about the birth of jesus under the heading of "this is why WE celebrate christmas" may have seemed overwrought and ridiculous to some. maybe better to let that one just float by? maybe i should have just sucked it up, the way i've done the past couple of days?

i couldn't. just couldn't.

i let her read the damn book, but as she closed with her grand overview of this holy holiday i threw out there, "yes, but we are not christians, and so we celebrate christmas as a cultural event--we celebrate because we can be with family." but of course this is not the true meaning of christmas. not valid. not real. i am among the non-believers, and i am not to be trusted.

i can't imagine how my mother feels about having a daughter like me.

a daughter, for instance, who listens to her mother wish a very hearty, very aggressive, "NO, Merry CHRISTMAS!!" to the nice young woman who helps us in anthropologie, as she is buying said daughter a shirt for her birthday, in response to the young woman saying "happy holidays!" a daughter who looks in the line behind them, sees many people smirking and listening, some not so happy with the outburst, and then loudly proclaims, "what's wrong with happy holidays! she could celebrate diwali for all you know!" a daughter who then walks out with this mother and begins arguing about allowing for other faiths to be represented at this time of year while the mother argues her incredibly detailed point about this nation being a "christian nation"; one founded on "christian ideals"; what's so wrong about reminding people of that? and then said mother yells something like, "your PC-ness drives me crazy sometimes!!"

jesus mary and saint joseph.

its that moment in my favorite holiday movie, "home for the holidays", where holly hunter asks dylan mcdermott, "do you ever look at these people and wonder, who are these people? where did i come from?" and he tells her, "i do, but then i just look at them and think they must be thinking the exact same thing about me."

its the holidays. its happening all around me. tonight, before i head out to my aunt's house to spend time with more relatives, i wanted to re-christen (pun) this blog, usher it into a new era of writing, and in doing so hope that those of you who are reading it are somehow sharing this holiday season with your families. perhaps you are having a moment yourself. perhaps you are wondering how you will make it through.

i stand with you, my friends. i stand with you in the glory of the season, in friendship and family, in sacred moments of arguing and yelling in the most holy of ways, the ways that only people who love and loathe each other know how to do.

peace out.