I just HAD to share my 1972 picture with Santa. Rich’s downtown Atlanta — and yes the Pink Pig was of course ridden in fear.
I was skeptical of Santa at this point… much to my mother’s mortified face as I looked at his beard and taped on white felt eyebrows. I think the camera caught this too. You think? I remember thinking ‘Dude….I don’t think that beard is real’ which I completely voiced to my parents in the car on the ride home. I loved that dress too. The Peter Pan collar with three buttons. The French cuff sleeves (I had no clue what French cuff sleeves were at 7 but I obviously loved it even then!).
Christmas changes for everyone through the years. I do believe in the spirit of the season. Whatever you celebrate. Make it magical. Find your Christmas Cheer for everyone to see and hear! (I got that from the movie ELF which is ONE of my favorite holiday movies…. exactly).
From my home to yours – I hope magical moments are abundant… and if they aren’t…MAKE SOME!
I have a new friend who I met about a year ago. She’s a ‘friend of a friend’ and I rather like her quite a bit. She’s very artsy / theater type personality… she’s had quite the life — she’s been on a soap opera in the early 90’s (One Life to Live which is what my mother watched). She’s about 6 years older than I am… so shes in her middle 50s… she’s lived in California – to NYC. She’s traveled the world. Met very interesting people. Romance… friends… travel….. A trustifarian of sorts to be exact. She’s dabbled in local theater… I met her of all places as we gathered around a bond fire at a Christmas tree lot in Mountain Brook Al. Where all the cool cats hang obviously. We continued to cross paths along the year at First Tuesday Cocktail Club (FTCC) .
And then…… after seeing her this December (it’s now Feb)…. I have been notified that she got married this past weekend. I completely smiled when I learned this…. the flip side to that is that she’s dying. She’s been given 2 weeks to live. TWO WEEKS. Trying to wrap my mind around this news I received another text this evening (a week shy of two weeks) that the end is near. She’s been moved to hospice. Pain management. Cancer. I sit shaking my head thinking this is not fair. AT ALL. I wish to make a complaint. Why. How. Scared. Sad. Angry. Disbelief. Acceptance. Cheers to you sweet friend – as you journey on to parts unknown. Look for me…. help me when my time comes. For I will be scared and afraid. I’ll look for you. In the stars. Journey on. Journey on.
“In the blink of an eye…. I never got to say goodbye… Like a shooting star across the room you were gone far too soon.”
It’s been a lazy sort of Sunday- in your pjs all kind of day. It is what it is.
My neighbor, friend and mischief-maker popped me a text to ask if I had time for one cocktail. I answered back ‘sure — if I can come in pjs’ and bra-less and oh by the way is there popcorn?’ Trader Joe’s white cheddar popcorn to be exact. Amen.
I remember when I moved into this quirky little Historic District I’ve called home for a decade and a half of seeing neighbors at various times of the eve walking up or down or to someone else’s home — in various forms of pjs carrying cocktail in hand. It was a magical sort of sight to behold. All of these oddities of course made me feel right at home.
As I searched for some type of shoe to wear to my neighbor’s home (somehow one croc was under the sofa I’m almost positive Olive had something to do with this) I smiled thinking how wonderful it is to head for cocktails in your pjs. It’s also somewhat like going to the grocery store at 8am on a Saturday in your pj’s, dark sunglasses and a baseball cap (as if the baseball cap and dark shades will completely hide your identity as everyone nods to you and says hi because they too are in the same garb). All for vanilla creamer. Which is most important when you realize you are out. And too sleepy to think about changing thus a baseball cap and dark sunglasses will suffice long enough to run in, grab said vanilla creamer and back home before you can blink.
I’m fairly certain it all boils down to being a bit silly. And how fun that is. I’m quite certain that’s what this is all about.
Alas — you’ve never quite fully lived (in my book) – until you’ve headed to a neighbor’s home – in pjs – to have cocktails.