Merry Christmas To All

I was not raised Christian. I am a different religion, one that my parents and my ancestors have been for centuries. I truly love my faith and I consider myself to be deeply religious. Even though I am not Christian, I have always celebrated the joyous holiday known as Christmas.

I loved decorating the Christmas tree when I was younger. I thought about what toys I wanted to put on my list for months. I remember going to sleep as early as possible on Christmas Eve, because the sooner I went to bed, the sooner I would wake up and get to rip open my presents. I believed so staunchly in Santa Claus, that no red flag went up in my mind when the presents from him were wrapped in the same wrapping paper as those from my parents. I thought, 'Wow, that's funny! He must have gone to the same store as Mom!' My dad always got a ton of gift baskets from clients and associates, and it was our tradition, after we opened presents, to go through the fruits and specialty foodstuffs as we drank coffee and cocoa, picking out what we wanted to eat, save, or re-gift to Grandma.

It's amazing how early retailers prepare for Christmas, and now with Turkey Day behind us, there will be no stopping them. But I love being reminded that Christmas is coming. After all, it's just one day. Some people think that it's silly to get excited so far in advance of the date-- but in my mind, the month of December means Christmas. I love the songs on the radio, the lights all over the place, the candies suddenly available in red and green, and trading and baking numerous cookie recipes (a tradition I love to share with GW).

I think Christmas as Christians celebrate it is a beautiful thing. Thought it's not actually the day of the birth of Jesus Christ, it seems appropriate to have a day in which they appreciate all that he represents. But I think it's totally ridiculous that some people don't think it's right to say "Merry Christmas", and instead, insist on "Happy Holidays". I hate when people say that we should work and open the post office on Christmas, that it should not be a national holiday. Why can't we all, regardless of religion, enjoy the secular aspects of Christmas, and even its over-arching spiritual message? I would love if others did that with the central holidays of my religion. It doesn't mean that other faiths are less important. Obviously, you don't need to believe in Christ to believe in charity, goodwill, and peace on earth. Christians shouldn't feel that others are co-opting their holiday. Non-Christians shouldn't feel that they are being left out of the Christmas fun. And to be perfectly honest, I don't think the fact that holidays such as Hanukkah or Kwanzaa may fall in December is relevant to the Christmas celebration at all.

Christmas is an American holiday. In fact, all countries celebrate Christmas differently, so it's hard to argue with the American aspect of the holiday. I think we should all share in it together. Merry Christmas, bitches.

Thanksgiving

This is a very interesting Thanksgiving for me this year. As I have mentioned in other weeks, I am the oldest in a very, very large family (there are ten kids!). So, traditionally the holidays have been a really exciting and memorable time. However, this year I am on the opposite side of the country as my family and am not able to go home for Thanksgiving. (My husband and I are very lucky because we are able to go home for two weeks during the Christmas season, but in order to do so we decided to stay in Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving).

We were in this same situation last year, and we were invited to one of my co-worker’s homes for Thanksgiving and spent the holiday with her and her family. We were invited to do so again this year, but instead my husband and I decided to have our “First Thanksgiving” together as a family (we were just married this summer).

Although I have been really excited to make my first turkey dinner by myself (and also only for two people instead of 12+), a large part of me is scared to death of preparing such a memorable meal! Let me take a step back for a minute. My husband’s mom was a stay-at-home mom his whole life and consequently he had wonderful, home-made meals for him every day growing up. She is a wonderful cook and every time we have a birthday in the family, or any kind of event to celebrate, we always get together and she cooks a homemade meal. That is their family’s way of celebrating. Now, I am not a terrible cook by any means, in fact I think I am pretty good. However, pretty much every single meal that I have prepared for my husband ever since I have known him has been compared to something his mom makes. I usually get some response like, “Wow sweetheart, these (fill in the blank here) are really good…you know my mom uses this special sauce when she makes them. You should give her a call and get the recipe”. (This is usually followed by a *roll of the eyes* on my part). I know he would never mean to or want to hurt my feelings, but he just grew up with a mom who was a very good homemaker. Moral of the story: I needed to figure out what to do for Thanksgiving.

So, the last week and a half I have been looking through all kinds of cookbooks and websites trying to read up on cooking a turkey, making homemade stuffing, (I was SO thankful for GFriday’s pumpkin pie recipe…thank you!), and baked sweet potatoes. My mom isn’t really available all the time for me to call and ask her for advice. So, I ended up calling my mother-in-law and asking her for advice. We get along really well, so I wasn’t afraid of calling and asking her. My biggest concern, however, was using the same recipes she has always used and then having the way I made the meal compared to how she made the meal.

I called and left her a voicemail yesterday. I said, “Kathy, I am having a mini panic attack. It is two days before Thanksgiving and I really have no clue what I need to be doing”. I got a phone call about a half hour later and we had a great phone call! She gave me all the great recipes I will need and also a few helpful tidbits while I was preparing the meal. I laughed when she warned me that if I don’t save the juice out of the canned pineapple and canned mandarin oranges cans (for the fruit salad) then my husband will probably pout. Also, I found out some other funny antics that he has. For example, apparently he never thinks the turkey is cooked for long enough and is afraid of eating under-cooked meat. But, he gets obsessive about it and will make you cook the turkey for almost an hour longer then it needs to be cooked. So, she lowered her voice and said, “When this happens (and I guarantee it will) just tell him, ‘ok sweetie, thanks for noticing’ and just turn the temperature down on the oven so that he thinks it is still cooking and it guarantees that you won’t have an incredibly dry turkey”. We talked for at least an hour and laughed about some of the funny things that have occurred in the past on Thanksgiving.

Tonight we made the pumpkin pies together, tomorrow morning we are running in a Turkey Trot race, and after that the adventure in the kitchen begins! Although I was initially sad that I won’t be with all my brothers and sisters this year on Thanksgiving, and am very excited to create a brand new memory and start my own traditions! I feel incredibly lucky that I have a wonderful husband to spend this holiday with. Although I guarantee something will likely go wrong tomorrow (in fact, I already burned the crust on the pie tonight!), I also guarantee that the day will be full of rich memories and lots of laughter. I could never ask for anything more.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Short Stories: Part III

The plane landed in New York without a problem.  And as every other time the plane lands after not crashing, I was thoroughly embarrassed by my behavior.  

The next weekend was Fourth of July and M and Evan took their first trip as a couple to meet me at my parents' house in the Hamptons.  My extended family was out too.  

M and Evan and I sat by the pool, played with my dog.  I offered them drinks, M said, "Don't worry about us, we're low maintenance."  Something about the "we" in there struck me.  I'm not sure how it struck me.  So I shrugged it off.   

I took M and Evan to my father's restaurant.  While Evan was eating, M asked him what he thought of his food and Evan looked at me and said with a laugh, "marry me."  I laughed.  Nervously, and way too loud.  It was uncomfortable.  The work week had gone by with me pushing scenes from airplane out of my memory.  My tactic was going to be to pretend that that split second of almost-something never happened.  Besides, it was almost something, which is practically nothing in most cases, especially where boys are concerned.  They are so rarely keen to subtleties.   

A little bit later my boyfriend arrived at my parents' house.  My whole family knew him so once he got there, the backyard lit up with conversation.  And at the same time, I noticed that Evan closed up.  I don't think he spoke for the rest of the day.  This made me so anxious.

After dinner we piled into the car and ventured to find a good spot to watch fireworks.  Evan was still not speaking or smiling.  Though in one of our many re-hashing conversations, my mother claimed Evan was very nice to her and that he asked her many questions- about her garden and about our dog.  I must have missed all that.

While the fireworks were going, I caught M's eye.  I mouthed, "what's wrong?" and gestured in Evan's direction.  M shook her head smiling sweetly, "nothing," and rubbed his back with one arm and said, "He's just tired.  Long day."  She made a sad face, sticking out her lower lip.  She was being so nurturing and he didn't even turn to her.  Completely unresponsive.       

That night we all sat down to watch a movie- of my mother's choosing of course.  "Across the Universe," my mother's first choice always.  It was a little late and so not long into the movie, my boyfriend announced he was heading to bed.  The colors and the dancing and The Beatles music of that movie always get me worked up, so I was far from sleepy.  Then a bit later, M announced she was too.  Right before she headed for the basement she turned to Evan and said, "I'm going to head down..."  

"I'm going to stay and watch the rest," Evan said.  I could see my mother's eyes widen in response.  I knew what she was thinking.  She was thinking it was strange that Evan was not going to bed with his girlfriend.  She was thinking, like every mother thinks when it comes to the apple of her eye:  that boy likes my daughter.

So we sat there on the couch-- me and Evan.  A decorative pillow's width between us.  When the movie was over, my parents' living room filled with a heavy warmth that only two hours of All You Need is Love will do.  We exhaled audibly.  I asked him what he thought.  He looked at me, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the TV-- "I loved it."

Now.  We're not talking about a sappy, romantic comedy kind of guy.  We're not talking about John Cusack.  I'd cast A-Rod to play him in the made-for-TV movie about his life.  Not that it'd be a great movie, but you know- he's not the type to love a movie musical love story.  That's all...    

The next morning I got up before everyone else and my mom was already at it in the kitchen.  Without turning away from her dishes she asked me what I thought of Evan and M.  I said, "I dunno.  Evan's not talking. It's weird I think."  

"Well, I'll tell you what I think.  He does not like that girl," she said with her classic, all-knowing mom tone.  I was speechless.  "And it's very sad," she continued, "because they're both very nice people."  I said,

"Do you really think that's why he won't talk?"  

"No," she replied, still matter-of-fact.  "I think he likes you.  And he's trapped.  He's here with his girlfriend and you're boyfriend and I'm sorry but he does not like that girl."  

"Oh my gosh mom shut up."  And I went back to bed.

My boyfriend, Evan, M and I got ready later that day to go to dinner at a great restaurant on the water.  Dinner was painfully awkward for me.  With Evan not speaking and M chatting carelessly.  I spent the whole time wondering if she felt something wrong, if she was going to be OK.  Dinner came and went and when the bill came, my boyfriend threw in his credit card.  I went fishing for my wallet in my bag and my boyfriend stopped me- "I've got you silly," he said.  Then Evan threw down his credit card and M pulled hers out of her pocket and put it down on the table.  Evan did not stop her.  

For me, if I was ex-girlfriend, this would be the one culminating moment where it all became clear.  The last red flag.  I don't know if M saw it that way though.  I thought him blatantly not paying for her was a huge deal.  It was so symbolic.

Evan and M left that night and I got texts from M, from the road:  "he's not speaking to me" and "i can't make him speak. I keep asking him questions."

Writing about that weekend is hard.  Because I hate cringing.  And that's what I do when I think about last Fourth of July.    

I went back to work the following week and somehow everything was back to normal.

I was to start a new job on Friday and so I was getting ready for that.  The new job was still in the building so it wasn't a huge change, but I'd no longer be sitting across from Evan.  Instead I'd be sitting closer to M.  

The night before my first day I was ironing clothes when I saw an email pop up on my computer.  It was from Evan.  I could tell from first glance that the neat paragraph structure implied that he meant business.  Before diving into it I assumed he was going to tell me that he had to break up with M and didn't know how to do it.  But the email was more unfortunate than that.  It was a love note.  A love email.  A love email from my friend's boyfriend.  

 

The Grinch must have been a lawyer

I knew being an attorney would mean lots of sacrificing. I knew that the large salary came with the expectation that I would be willing to work weekends and change my plans last minute. I knew I would run the risk of seeming flakey to my non-lawyer friends, and I knew that there would be times when I would have trouble planning more than 24 hours in advance for anything.

I just didn’t think it would come so quickly. Here I am, the day before I’m supposed to be leaving to spend Thanksgiving with my future in-laws, still uncertain as to whether I’ll be able to get on the plane tomorrow night, or if work will intervene. It’s a terrible feeling—to be as OCD as I am and yet not be able to know for certain if I should be making last minute plans to crash my parents’ thanksgiving instead.

What’s worse is that I know Christmas will be no different. I have filing deadlines the week before and the week after, and I may only end up home for two or three days, max. And I’m working for a firm that is consistently listed as having a “good” work-life balance. I have no idea if and when I’ll be able to write Christmas cards, or how I’ll find time to Christmas shop. I have brushed off my mom four times now when she has asked what I want for Christmas, and I have no clue what I’ll be getting for any of my relatives. And I’m contemplating scheduling shopping into my outlook calendar so I don’t forget to do it.

Yet, no matter how much I’d like to make my blog this week a full-out bitch fest, I find myself realizing that I have plenty to be thankful about this week, even if I may be sitting down for turkey at a different table than I had expected. Given the state of the economy and the legal market, I am grateful to be so busy. I’m thankful for the consistent paycheck, and for job security. I have law school classmates who are leaving in fear of receiving pink slips instead of end-of-the-year bonuses. I have good friends who will come no where near their billable hours and have spent the last few months coming up with a story to back up their performance. I spent the summer before I started working reading abovethelaw.com and fearing the worst about whether my smaller firm would be able to endure the economic downturn. And here we are, hiring attorneys, plenty busy and the future looks equally bright.

More importantly, I’m thankful for the friends and family that have been so incredibly supportive as I spend late nights and weekends in the office. I’m thankful for the colleagues who keep their doors constantly open for questions. I am thankful for my future in-laws, who have promised not to disown me if I can’t make it out to see them on Wednesday night. And I’m thankful for my best friend, who I thought would hate me, but was super supportive when I called her last minute to cancel Saturday dinner plans. And, I am thankful for my parents, who are willing to listen to me whine and willing to pick up and bring thanksgiving dinner to me if need be.

Then there is my fiancé, who is becoming quite adept at giving me the best hugs when I get home and assuring me, in a way that only he can, that I am really getting myself too worked up about things. Now if only I could teach myself to listen when he tells me that I need to just take deep breaths and know that I am doing all I can.

You Are Your Own Superhero!

Like all of us, GMon’y should get a little break, so here I am (GM-BFF) filling in. It’s the least I can do, given everything GM has done for me, especially lately. So, I’m taking a stab at offering some thoughts and some thought-provoking ideas.

I’m a big fan of self-awareness and reflection, especially as part of ongoing efforts toward self-improvement, so I’m always interested in new ways to approach the reflection process. Recently, as I was struggling through a particularly tough episode (and expressing some wishes about being rescued), one of my friends said something that really got me thinking: “You are your own superhero!” Now, I know this isn’t an original line—too bad, because it would be great to think that this friend came up with it on his own—but regardless, it really struck me and stayed with me. It presented an opportunity for an interesting intellectual exercise: what are my super-powers, what are my weaknesses, and what is Kryptonite to me? I didn’t venture into the more fashion-focused aspects of being a superhero, but I suppose that could be a fun game as well—figuring out what kind of costume I’d wear. I could certainly tap into some Wonder Woman influences!

What are my super-powers? Hmmm… I think my strong sense of self and self-confidence are the main things that give me a lot of my power and help me tackle challenges. Knowing what’s important to me and who I really am makes it possible for me to cut through a lot of the b.s. and distractions that life throws my way. That’s not to say that I maintain my powers at full strength all of the time, but I suppose every superhero has those lapses from which they must recover and grow stronger.

Against what am I powerless? This is an interesting question to tackle. The first things that came to mind are sort of silly, but very powerful in their own ways. The first thing is: vodka. I don’t mean that I have a weakness for it; I mean that it knocks me on my butt, even just a tiny sip of it. It is seriously like Kryptonite to me, in a very bad way (can you say “instant hangover?”). Bad, bad, bad. Next: a guy wearing Polo cologne (the one in the dark green bottle). Seriously, this smell bowls me over and makes me weak in the knees. I must admit that I’ve had it happen multiple times where I’m in a big crowd and all of a sudden feel like I’m swooning; after a second or two, I realize that I’m getting a whiff of Polo cologne. I think I might even fall for an old tennis shoe if it were wearing Polo. Yum.

On a slightly more serious note, the thing that really zaps my powers is being aware of other people’s pain and heartbreak. When I know that someone I love is hurting in any way, it slams me to the ground. (I’m skipping over an examination of my boundary issues for now…) By nature, I’m a fixer; I want to be able to make everything better for the people I love. Not being able to make things “all better!” for someone is tough for me, and far too often can make me just spin my wheels trying to figure out something—ANYTHING—to do. Of course, trying to take action just for the sake of taking action isn’t always the best use of one’s energy, and it certainly can deplete me. Ah, Kryptonite, you do slay me.

The more I’ve played with this simple phrase that my friend said to me, and claimed it as my own—I am my own superhero!—I see how it can apply to so many parts of my life. It resonates with me when I’m being independent and self-reliant. It serves as a warning to me when I forget to lean on the other members of my group of superheroes. It reminds me to be on the lookout for Kryptonite. Fortunately, it also helps me see some of the crazier things that happen in life as just one more episode of a cartoon. BAM! POW!