Originally Published Monday, December 24, 2012
I must be fair. This is the girl who owns the end of the 19th century dress, the one whose great-grandmother actually wore it to the ball or balls oh so long ago. I will have some surprising pictures of her soon. Not the great-grandmother. . . .
I am living like a shut in. I haven't left the house today. I will go to dinner at my mother's house in a bit, but I have had no will to move. Exhaustion? Depression? Physical illness? I'll tell you true--I don't know. But I haven't had a bit of regret about not moving except for thinking that there is something wrong with me. I sat for hours working on pictures, writing emails, and listening to college radio from all around the country. There are a handful of really great ones. It is the best, most pleasant and restoring thing I have done in a long time listening to these crazy kids. I want to be like them. They are terrific.
Some days you just have to sit.
My mother's report of her grand tour down the Danube was exactly what I expected. I should have written it and handed it to her right after she told me about it. She got sick, of course, in the cold, rainy European winter. She ate on the boat and can't really tell me what they saw. They went to a lot of churches, she said, and they went to see how gingerbread was made. One day on the boat someone came to show them how to decorate it, but she wasn't interested.
"Everyone said this was a great time of year to go," she said. "'Oh, you'll get to see all the beautiful Christmas lights,' they said. Shoot, there weren't any lights 'til we got to the last town. . . what's it called? On the boat they told us to stay up, that we wouldn't want to miss it. We sailed at night. It was pretty, though."
Neither of us has the will to shop for Christmas, so we have agreed to forego the trinkets. I am going to order dinner from Whole Foods and pick it up Christmas Eve.
And so with her return, I am back into another routine. One more thing I must do or regret not doing. It will take up my time away from the factory.
I wish I knew what songs were playing. Just good stuff I've never heard, on and on and on. I'm too distracted to listen at the end of the set and write them down and too lazy to go to their websites to see if they publish their playlists. But it is all fairly uplifting.
I am living like a shut in. I haven't left the house today. I will go to dinner at my mother's house in a bit, but I have had no will to move. Exhaustion? Depression? Physical illness? I'll tell you true--I don't know. But I haven't had a bit of regret about not moving except for thinking that there is something wrong with me. I sat for hours working on pictures, writing emails, and listening to college radio from all around the country. There are a handful of really great ones. It is the best, most pleasant and restoring thing I have done in a long time listening to these crazy kids. I want to be like them. They are terrific.
Some days you just have to sit.
My mother's report of her grand tour down the Danube was exactly what I expected. I should have written it and handed it to her right after she told me about it. She got sick, of course, in the cold, rainy European winter. She ate on the boat and can't really tell me what they saw. They went to a lot of churches, she said, and they went to see how gingerbread was made. One day on the boat someone came to show them how to decorate it, but she wasn't interested.
"Everyone said this was a great time of year to go," she said. "'Oh, you'll get to see all the beautiful Christmas lights,' they said. Shoot, there weren't any lights 'til we got to the last town. . . what's it called? On the boat they told us to stay up, that we wouldn't want to miss it. We sailed at night. It was pretty, though."
Neither of us has the will to shop for Christmas, so we have agreed to forego the trinkets. I am going to order dinner from Whole Foods and pick it up Christmas Eve.
And so with her return, I am back into another routine. One more thing I must do or regret not doing. It will take up my time away from the factory.
I wish I knew what songs were playing. Just good stuff I've never heard, on and on and on. I'm too distracted to listen at the end of the set and write them down and too lazy to go to their websites to see if they publish their playlists. But it is all fairly uplifting.
* * * * *
Up in the cold dark, warmed by WKSC from U.C. Santa Cruz and strong coffee. Grateful Dead. It is Christmas Eve.
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