Dear a-Men:

I read your latest letter to Penelope with, per usual, an absolute sense of likewiseness. Of the sense that tradition clearly stems from the past, is carried into the present and seems rather moot in the face of a faceless future. How (and who - which I must point out is an anagram of "how" -) will it be toted forward if there are no small hands to reach for it? And not even one hand to reach for yours to make new tradition?

Christmas Eve started well enough with coffee with an old friend. But then, it was on to some rather joyless cooking. The chopping and stirring and measuring all seemed rather like a chore than a shared experience. Though we tried to laugh and infuse the egg peeling and pretzel smashing and vegetable boiling with yuletide brightness, it simply felt tired and dim.

We watched the Christmas Eve service on the internet rather than going because I just couldn't muster the energy to push everyone to go. And then we watched Prep & Landing, and it was lovely, but the theme of dissatisfaction and finding fulfillment just made me cry.

And then my brother called and wanted us to come down to his house before Santa's arrival on Christmas morning. But his in-laws were there, and the house doesn't really offer the room for four more adults to be added to the festivities and plus we don't open presents on Christmas day anymore because the in-laws are there and so we postpone until the New Year's weekend. This all led to serious Nana-guilt for my mother and envy-guilt for my sister and me who were having a hard enough time with this holiday season.

The call was a reminder of all the tradition lost and the way our Christmas has become this slippery ephemeral thing to be moved around on the calendar to accommodate everyone's schedule. It all leads to a half-hearted Christmas on both ends of the week - a Christmess if you will. And not only that but there was the reminder of children, of in-laws, of new celebrations and bright eyes and innocence and the kind of love that creates all those things that's decidedly missing from my life right now.

Even though it was snowing - my first white Christmas! - and the Christmas music played in the kitchen and there was a blue velvet birthday cake for Baby Jesus (because Dillon's favorite color is blue) and Reese woke up from her nap demanding "Ash'ey" and curled up in my lap all warm and cherubic for some TV time, there was still on the inside a void. A cold hollow that echoed with all the doubts about whether it will ever be different. Whether I will ever have my own warm cherub and strange desserts by request.

We ended the night by watching two horrible made-for-TV movies that somehow took the edge of bitterness off the day. If even the Hallmark movie could fail in holiday perfection, perhaps I should cut myself some slack.

Ah, M. Let us continue the advent celebration with the same sense of hope that Immanuel delivered to us. God is with us. And for now, that will have to be enough.

Love,
A

Dear M, Regarding My Totally You Moment:

I discovered that the illustrious Joel McHale has finally deigned to bring his stand-up tour past the noxiousness of Las Vegas. Even my love of Joel cannot take me there. He's actually making his way as far as the eastern seaboard including that nearby bastion of The South, Hotlanta. However, instead of taking the easy way, instead of just going an hour up the road to a venue I've been to before near where my brother lives making it easy for me to stay the night with him post-performance, I bought a plane ticket.

On a whim, I bought a plane ticket! To the Lonestar State where I will be taking in the McHale McMagnificence with my Texas Twin. I'm flying in early and staying late and have been promised a photogging excursion somewhere in there. And I just did it. Like a true adventurer.

Not uncoincidentally, I dreamed last night of going to Vienna. And the buildings were amazing, and I remember that we were going through Germany on our way home? So the passport is next, Oh, Wayfaring Soul. But know...you're rubbing off on me.

xo,
Intrepid Traveler

Dear PenMen: Contemplations on Everyonceinawhile and Other Moments in Time

Seeing as how we might, at this point, be the only ones reading each other's blogs, I figured it was okay to directly address the two of you. Plus, I had this feeling of wanting to write, but what? And then I thought I could just write what I would tell Pen and M.

It's raining here right now, and while soothing, I find this greatly disappointing because I need to mow my lawn. I was all geared up for it, too: The First Mowing. But I know if I actually do that after the torrential rain (accompanied by copious thunder and lightning) that I will have wet grass stuck to my ankles and big clumps of grass clippings to dig out of the bag. That seems like not the experience to have for The First Mowing, and so I will think of my ever-growing lawn as a verdant carpet instead of an overgrown grass pouf to ease my conscience.

I finished reading this book last night that was so good - one of my indulgently trashy romance novels. And sometimes, they're just like reading candy - totally empty calories that go in and pass through with no real nutritional value. But everyonceinawhile, I find one that's more like...designer candy. Still no real nutritional value, but something extra luxurious about the indulgent experience. I think it could have to do with the fact that Mom and Dad went to see Anna, and I was blissfully alone and slept on the couch when I got home and then woke up and read and read and read - skipping dinner - until I finished. That's the kind of reading one needs to do everyonceinawhile to really fortify the soul.

Yesterday was a fantastical, magical day at work. Everyonceinawhile, a very great while in fact, the stars align in this way that you get exactly what you work so hard for the other 3oo-some-odd days of the year. To get a story in the ACRONYM Today is something of a Holy Grail of PR. And then, to find out later that the pitch you made to a certain other nationally renowned publication like FOUR-BES, actually got picked up, too? Well, it just doesn't get any better than that. Except that it happened to be my three-year anniversary with the company, and The Linguista and I went to my favorite Mexican restaurant and drank frozen margaritas at lunch.

The Exotic is getting so close to her due date, and it's starting to make me a bit sad. What will I do without her calming presence in the office? She does yoga so I don't have to, and she offers me zen-by-proxy when I need it. I think I will feel spectacularly off when she's on maternity leave.

I am, however, excited about the next couple of months, which are rife with the kind of adventures I never have. On Monday is David Gray/Ray LaMontagne, the dreamiest of dream concerts. I'm taking one of the Big City interns with me, and it will be delight. And then we will enter the string of weeks from September to October when I have something all the time rather than everyonceinawhile to keep me occupied. Like a trip to D.C.! Mountain Day! Dallas to see Joel McHale with my Texas Twin in our Texas office! Valle Crucis! Company retreat! Oh my! Plus there are two volunteer events on my calendar in September and one in October, plus dinners and drinks with friends (yes! friends!). At times like these, I feel like...maybe I'm doing a better job than I think of carpe diem and not letting the fact that I'm not exactly where I want to be on The Great Life Continuum keep me from doing things that make this place on it so much better.

Despite the rain, I think it's time to pack the Rav and take a load over to My House where I will clean the bathrooms and dress them nicely with the bathmats and matching towel sets I purchased last week. And then I will stand back and contemplate that I could actually be moving soon in a way that is good and comfortable. And then I might be able to think about new companions for my sad heart - still so hard to let go of Kudzu, but so clear to me that I need that comfort from the four-legged varietal.

Wishing you both everyonceinawhile days.

xo,
Ash

Mendelopacious

mendelopacious (adj.) - indicative of great joy because of or relating to Mendacious and Penelope; to experience mendelopation (n.) or excessive happiness due to the presence of Mendacious and Penelope; of or relating to the act of mendelopating (v.) or spending quality time with Mendacious and Penelope. ex. A mendalopacious week was experienced recently, filled with mendelopation over mendelopating with both Mendacious and Penelope.

Mendelopacious outing with Mendacious
Huntington Beach, California

Mendacious and I met once before when Penelope married, but it was well before blogdom blossomed and we were fully aware of the nature of our soul connection. This time, however, I knew when I spied her through the glass - "This is Mendacious!"

We hugged the lovely sort of hug one shares with one's wayfaring soul upon meeting for the first time - a sort of strong, instant embrace filled with warmth and knowing and connection. And I climbed into her car and agreed to adventure and the promise of margaritas. We talked in this way that felt like we were picking up with a conversation begun many lifetimes ago, as though we both remembered the precise moment we left off, paused and began again.

There were in fact margaritas and a trip to the beach where we plopped down in the sand and made strange shapes from shell bits. We talked of the sand and how it is different from the East Coast. This Pacific sand is worn and natural and raw. It is integral sand. East Coast sand is admired and visited and enjoyed, but West Coast sand is habitual and used and incorporated. Mendacious, in all her tall vivacious glory, belonged here with this earthy, essential sand, and I heard the waves in the way that I hear all water - like a soothing lullaby. I spoke to a seagull and Mendacious understood and we talked of art and love and family and place and my still unattained passport and, of course, Penelope.

And we were mendelopated.

Mendelopacious outing with Penelope
Lake SinclairPenelope Pices met with a soon-to-be-31 Cancer at a lake in middle Georgia. Whereas Mendacious and me were known strangers among unknown strangers, Penelope and I were old friends among older friends. We sat in rocking chairs and watched the water sparkle hotly in the distance while the flush-cheeked Lo. Co. children climbed and gamboled around the porch. Back and forth, the chairs. Back and forth, the words. Back and forth, the stories. Back and forth, the snark.

And we picked up the thread just where we left off, knitting our tales, sewing our lives together; two vastly different patterns that most would never consider complimentary but somehow, upon closer inspection, matched in a lovely sort of mismatched way.

At dusk there were sparklers, and we drew our names in the air with fire - we two water signs - and laughed at the smoke and the crack and hiss and the familiar burning smell until the sticks went dark. And we laughed at the otherworldly fire-blurred pictures of ourselves.

And a mendelopacious time was had by all.

Promises, Promises (31)

- To post soon (about something besides Kudzu)

- To move

- To reflect upon meeting the one and only Mendacious

- To be older

- To get my passport (for Mendacious)

- To write more poems, essays, letters

- To think about tomorrow

- To take a break

- To call

- To wear a dress

- To go to bed

Itinerary

While asleep, I go.

* To L.A. to find Mendacious. And I am in her garden. They tell me she isn't there, but I know she can hear me, and we're supposed to go to Ireland. I see her face through a window.

* To London on a grey day. I stand in a square with a fountain in the center and there are blackbirds everywhere. I hear the aristocratic tones of the British around me, water splashing. I want to take a picture, but I've forgotten my camera.

* Back to San Francisco. At first I am lost and feel panicked, but gradually, I decide that I don't care if I don't know where we're going. Slowly, the city comes to life in my dream and I feel alive.

* To New York, with my parents. I am leading the way. I don't know the destination, but I know where I'm going. I navigate through the crowds. The sidewalk is wet; it is cold and the exhaust billows out in white fog from passing cabs. The signs are red, and we eat street food.

* A city. Alone but content. I am wandering. I don't know whether I'm hungry or looking for something. I can never read the map in my dream. But it doesn't matter where I'm going. Just that I made it there.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Happy Birthday to Jenn! Happy Birthday to Jenn! * Planning brunch with unlimited mimosas * Trip to Golden Gate Park * Possibly tour the deYoung Museum * See HAT! - first time in four years * Consult advice from Lauren, Daisy, and Mendacious on where to go and what to do - and most importantly, where to shop * Let Jenn choose dinner - something delicious and vegetarian, possibly something ethnic * Make it to Chinatown, Mission, Haight * See the painted ladies * Run into Adam Duritz?

Leaving on a Jet Plane

At long last - or not so long? - I'm headed to San Francisco tomorrow! I am so excited about this trip for a number of reasons:

1) This is one of the first times I'm traveling for fun.
2) I'm going to see two of my dearest friends for more than 30 minutes and not under the circumstances of a funeral.
3) I have never been to San Francisco
4) The success of this trip may give me the little push I need to get my ever-loving passport (for Mendacious, obviously).

I will not be taking the computer. I've decided to go cold turkey on the Internets for the duration of our trip. However, do not despair! For behold, I give you photos of the darling child and the promise of posts magically appearing in my absence. See y'all Tuesday!

How to Feel Every Day

Mendacious requested a blog on blogging about feelings that seem to never change from day to day. I've given some thought to how one should address this matter, and I think a to-do list is in order. Perhaps it's best to catalog and check off the feelings for each day:

StopStopStop
Stop trying so hard to fit in, make a place, put down roots, shake the dust off your feet. Stop worrying about whether or not you think you can do your job, whether or not they think you can do your job, whether or not you really can do your job, whether or not you're going to get fired any moment from your job. Stop looking back and looking forward and looking back and looking forward - it won't help you make sense of what you're looking at now. StopStopStop or else you'll panic.

ThisTimeLastYear
This time last year I was sitting on my back porch reading a book from the library. This time last year I had a job I understood where I sat across the desk from STGD and laughed. This time last year I lived on Grace Street and walked the wide-board wooden floors and sat on the windowsill and dreamed. This time last year I stood on the Cape Fear River. This time last year people knew me. This time last year was another lifetime.

PeoplePeopleEverywhereAndNotaDroptoDrink
People from dawn til dusk, from waking to sleeping. Always someone else occupying the same space as me. Next to me in the office, in the same house. Crowded for breathing room and the thoughts cartwheeling in my head. The people are familiar and unfamiliar, and they are omnipresent, and they do not comfort. People everywhere and yet so lonesome am I.

OneIsTheLoneliestNumber
Try not to think about being alone. Just one. Just me, just me, just me. And I don't know anyone. And I don't know how to meet anyone. And I look jealously upon groups of peolple who appear to be friends. Who laugh with each other. Who talk and know each other's language. And I am just one. Just me.

WhereIsTheEnd?
To round out these feelings, to sort of end where you started and as a nice second to StopStopStop, there is the question of when this ends. How far ahead is the light at the end of the tunnel that you can't see? How long does it take to get to the destination that isn't in sight? How do you find the place on the map if you don't know where you're looking for? How do you tell yourself there will be an end when you really don't know?

On Hats

I suggested to Mendacious the other day that she attempt to bring hats back. This isn't what I had in mind, New York Fashion Week. Hey, Mendacious, you were worried your hat was too big. Ha.