today's thoughts

Yay, Christmas. I was out shopping yesterday, humming along with the Christmas music on the overhead and getting all warm and squishy. Last night, we caught the Grinch on TV and I turned into the blubbering retard that this time of year predictably brings out in me. It might look maudlin, but the emotional sensation is absolutely exquisite. I suppose I could just enjoy it, but I was thinking about how when we have a child they will inevitably become increasingly mortified by my waterworks over anything regarding the True Meaning of Christmas. (Or animals in distress. The two boys I provided childcare for several years back used to bait me with "The Adventures of Milo and Otis" so they could have laugh at the expense of the very silly grown-up.)

Speaking of Christmas shopping, this happens every year these days: I spend more on G and me than on everybody else combined (which isn't that much anyway, come to think of it). That sounds a little selfish until you consider that I will wait to buy new linens and pajamas and the like until the old ones are literally falling apart with wear and are no longer mendable. At Christmas time, a switch in my head flips: the one that sends the okay-to-spend signal. I guess this system works well enough. For now.

One of the items I bought yesterday was a cheap pocket watch with an alarm feature, to help remind me to practice hourly. The instructions were so obtuse I was convinced after ten minutes or so of messing with the thing that, although a "chime" feature was mentioned (without any explanation or correlating instructions), it wasn't going to do what I needed it to do--beep softly on the hour. I tossed it along with the mangled packing materials, unintelligible instructions and receipt back into a bag and put it in the "to be dealt with" pile. Then the bag started beeping softly on the hour. Eureka! Now if I can only disable the alarm that went off at 2:20 am this morning.

G's new employers are in talks with many venture capitalists regarding an initial investment. Several are watching developments closely. One potential funder, the VC branch of a company whose name I recognized immediately, has entered into some sort of serious and promising-sounding confidentiality agreement with them. Which is good. Initial funding must be secured before actual success can even be pursued Everybody involved believes that, this way or some other way, it will happen soon. But the founder is spasing out now, dreaming of the possibilities. The other day he called G to ask, among other things, if in a major buyout situation we would hypothetically be willing to move across the country temporarily for many millions of dollars. Getting a wee bit ahead of himself, methinks. I told G that it didn't sound tempting, in any case. Why compromise something as important as living where you most love to live, surrounded by friends and family, for money in amounts that you couldn't possibly really need? Sounds empty and lonely to me. G said we might have a slight difference in opinion about that. But when he said "slight," he didn't mean it ironically. He's just more ambitious than I am, and the idea of raking it in appeals to him on some level. Luckily, he's also a very grounded dude with fundamentally sound priorities. If anything approaching this wild hypothetical ever comes to pass, I know we'll be able to make decisions we can live with joyfully. Which is nice.

In the meantime, my fervent and currently out-of-range wish is for a woodstove. I absolutely need the smell of woodsmoke in my environment from October through March. Lucky for me, we have a neighbor who provides a fix to tide me over fairly regularly when I go out. Still, it's just not the same as having one's home smell all warm and smoky inside. Plus, what can compare to that intense and concentrated heatsource when you feel chilled? There's a spot in the living room that will lend itself perfectly to a tiled corner hearth. I included images of a fireplace and glass-doored stove in my collage last spring, and I am visualizing madly. All I can do now is wait.

A very sad update: My brother's wife's pregnancy is ending. It's one of those situations that just plain sucks, and there's nothing to do or say about it. I was able to help in a small way by answering some questions and talking with her a bit about my experience, which at that point hers was paralleling. And I'm glad for that connection. (It's not easy to find opportunities for gratitude at times like this, but I will observe those that present themsleves.) It's good that we'll all be gathering again in a couple of weeks.