the pieces of my life

Santa did indeed come throught for my half-birthday. Yeah, Santa!

Proof positive that Adam is sleeping when we watch videos even when he vehemently denies it:

Adam: “Should I return all the videos?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Adam: “Even 13 Conversations About One Thing?”

Me: “Yeah, why wouldn’t you?”

Adam: “Because we didn’t finish watching it.”

Me: “Yes we did.”

Adam: “No, we stopped it halfway through.”

Me: “Um, no we didn’t.”

Adam: “Oh…. I guess that’s just when I feel asleep.”

Now, I’m off on a bit of a computer hiatus. You’ll hear not a peep from me for the rest of the week. Enjoy your holiday and eat a lot!

A conversation over lunch at work yesterday took an odd turn as we began reminiscing about S&H; Green Stamps, which apparently has remade itself into greenpoints. Not everyone remembered them, but I do. The grocery store cashier at Publix (“Where shopping is a pleasure!”) would put the amount of purchase on this dispenser (it looked like a bunch of phone dials, with the cents wheel nestled inside the dollar wheel) next to the cash register. Out they’d slide and they’d rip them off, only sometimes you’d get a torn stamp, because they didn’t dispense smoothly. My mom would stick them in a can and then once in a while put them in a book (which you got for free from the supermarket). Melissa and I enjoyed doing that, because it was fun to lick the stamps, and we didn’t understand why mom used a sponge. Of course, they often didn’t stick well, and you had to wait until they dried before turning the page. The filled pages would become stiff from the glue (one of the women in my office who had never seen them asked, “Were they self-adhesive?” Made me feel old). My mother gave me my own book and I got to keep all the $1 stamps. The best was going to the S&H; Redemption Center and picking out all the cool things you could get with your books of stamps. I remember I got a nail kit with a pretty light blue case, which is odd because I turned out to be so not-a-nail person (the only time in the past year my nails have been painted was for my wedding). Cecil Adams goes into greater green stamp detail in his column.

Adam seemed to think I was kidding when I told him that I wanted a present on 12/25. Not, mind you, to celebrate Christmas, which we obviously don’t do. But to commemorate my half birthday. I think that’s present worthy, don’t you? Anyway, here’s what I don’t want for my half birthday:

What’s worse than an ‘N Sync doll? An ‘N Sync #1 Fan Teresa doll. Yikes.

To replace the mouth guard I sleep with?

I wouldn’t be adverse to something that would help me steer my eating in the right direction, to counteract that bloated after-the-holidays feeling? However, I’ll skip this diet.

Since I can’t have the pine smell, I can have this.

Can you handle the egg-citement?

I think the busier I get the less I have to say. And that’s what I mean: it’s not that I don’t have time to say it, I just have less to say. Perhaps it’s because Adam’s done with finals so I have someone to talk to full-time instead of this blog (and isn’t human interaction supposed to be better than computers? Hey, hey, not trying to rile anyone up! Just posing an idea) or maybe it’s because I’m processing, processing. We’ve been catching up on our movies big time, which is heaven for me. Normally, we just watch TV shows we’ve Replayed because Adam has to go off and study, but now we can sit down for a couple of hours to enjoy both smart and mindless entertainment. Of course, Adam still will fall asleep during the first five minutes of a movie, but at least he’s there to keep me company.

Under the mindless category, I went with Kara to see Two Weeks Notice (I’d like the point out the lack of possessive on “Weeks” is the movie’s style, not mine) and Adam and I watched the 2002 version of The Count of Monte Cristo. Remember those Florence Henderson ads with the fried chicken and the grease? How dated is that? Like 1) anyone has time to make fried chicken any more and 2) people still eat those fat-laden foods in public (I truly believe that while folks are bragging about their fiber content and low-fatness they are secretly scarfing down French fries, cheese, and chocolate chip cookies). (And if that seemed to come out of nowhere for you then either a) you obviously don’t understand the way my mind words or b) don’t remember the commercial.) Notice was predictable, cheesy, and somewhat bland–in other words the perfect flick for an afternoon of chicken and ribs (oops, I mean garden burgers) at Redbones and serious girl talk with Kara. (Driving down to meet Kara I thought, “Wow, is traffic unbelievably bad today or what?” before I remembered that this is the final weekend before Christmas. Hurry people! Finish your shopping! You’ve only had the previous eleven and a half months to get this all done!) Monte Cristo I truly enjoyed–I haven’t read the book, so while I could still guess what was going on, it captivated me. I thought the cinematography was quite nice and who doesn’t love any movie with Guy Pearce.

In the more thoughtful category, we also watched The Princess and the Warrior and Charade, both of which I highly recommend. I think Franka Potente and Audrey Hepburn are about as far removed from each other as you can get (can you imagine Franka playing they helpless Reggie anymore than you could imagine Audrey playing such a strong character as Sissi [or Lola]?), and yet, I think they are among my favorite actresses. I don’t have favorite actors and actresses, as I do favorite movies and directors, but if I did, I rank them both up there with Cate Blanchett, Humphrey Bogart, and Toni Collette (the Marx Brothers and Woody Allen don’t count because they are so much more than just actors). The problem with actors and actresses is that there’s no consistency between the types of films they do. I adore Fred MacMurray in Double Indemnity (hey, look who wrote the Amazon review of that!), which is one of my top ten films (although I’ve often said that if you count all the films I say are in my top ten, you’ll find you have about twenty-five films), but that doesn’t mean I was devoted to The Absent-Minded Professor or Son of Flubber. Not like I can say, “Oh, Eric Rohmer is one of my favorite directors” because his movies have simliar themes and I can know what to expect without feeling like I’ve seen it before. (Digression: Am I the only one here who didn’t like the book The Hours and is so not looking forward to the movie?) We’ve got until January 13 to see how many films we can cram in. And good news for us, Hollywood Video is open until 10 p.m. on Christmas Eve.

Office parties. Anyone who’s worked in retail remember those? Apparently they are alive and well and living in relative comfort in offices all over the country. Who knew? My office, to my delight, had not one, not two, but three spankin’ holiday parties. I’m in a department of nine within a larger department. So we had our small department holiday party on Monday, in which we all brought in yummies and the bosses handed out gifts and we were festive and played games (most notable two lies and a truth, which has always been a favorite of mine). Champagne flowed freely. Then on Tuesday, a second two-hour party for the department at large, but this time in the swank conference room downstairs with waiters carrying around trays of food, platters of snacks set out, and a dessert table that could put the Cookie Monster into a sugar coma. Beer and wine flowed freely and an office a cappella group did a beautiful rendition of, hmmm, what was it? Well, it was very pretty, but it was a Christmas Carol I was only somewhat familiar with (which means it wasn’t “Silent Night” or “Jingle Bells”). Then, on Thursday, yet another two-hour affair for all of BU staff over at the student union, that had a dessert table that made the Tuesday one look like scraps set out for the dogs. I was fine at all the parties until the final one, when I discovered the strawberry petit fours with marzipan topping. Mmmmm. I didn’t budge from that table. Oh, the rest of the food was lovely, and many drinks flowed there, but those petit fours. Mmmmm. Did I say that already? Let me say it again. Mmmmmm. I thought for a school that the afternoon was pretty swank (all parties took place during work hours, from 3 to 5).

After having the holidays ignored save for my “I survived CS/McDonough/Fernley this holiday season” T-shirts for the past bunch of years, it was cool to see people actually excited about Christmas. (And I’m not sure why they bother to bill these as “holiday” parties. They’re Christmas parties, plain and simple. Hanukah ended ages ago and there wasn’t a single dreidel in all the Christmas trees, so why not call it as it is. Although, at the BU party, in all fairness, there was a sign by the bacon-wrapped scallops that read “Kosher Food Available Upon Request.” Of course, we could nitpick that and say, what about those who are Hallal, but really, let’s just call this all Christmas and be done with it.)

There’s also a genuine feeling of giving here, I think. Everyone had some sort of Toys for Tots program. A collection was taken up in the office to buy a gift for the women who clean our office. I’m sure if the folks at Amazon were consolidated at the holiday time, they’d be generous as well, but it was so easy to let the entire season slip by with little notice. But they do give in their own ways at different times. Which may even be nicer–all those people who are benefitting from people’s holiday generosity still need things come January, February, March… You get the idea.

Sigh. So now I have to wait an entire year for The Return of the King. And when that one’s over, it’s done, and all I’m left with is an empty feeling. Two Towers was fantastic. Really. (Hey, check it out: you can search for all Elvish films on the IMDb.)

What a contrast, though, between seeing The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring last year and seeing Two Towers this year. Last year, opening night, Eugene got tickets for a whole mess of us, and even though I had just gotten back from doing my time on the night shift in Fernley, I was determined to stay up to watch it. KJ and I trooped down first to the Cinerama to wait in line for seats. We weren’t too far back, and the line wrapped around the block. I had brought my peanut-butter surprise cookies (recipe by Martha). KJ and I struck up a conversation with the guy in front of us and she convinced him to try the cookies, even though he obviously had no interest in taking sweets from strangers. He then asked for more, and when his wife showed, forced cookies on her. His wife and I both confessed our Martha devotion, bonding immediately, which would only happen in a LOTR line in Seattle. I remember is was cold, or rather, what I used to think of as cold, probably in the mid-40s, and so Adam stopped by Ann Taylor and bought me a cute pink and lavender hat. Eventually everyone showed, and I believe there were twelve or fifteen of us, and we rushed into the theater to grab seats, but we had to separate, because we couldn’t get enough seats together. Seeing a movie at the Cinerama is magic. Paul Allen renovated the old theater and the lush seats, the huge screen, incredible sound, and the plush surroundings make it the place to see any film. The crowds at this theater get so excited, and there’s plenty of cheering and clapping and laughing (but in a good, not-interfering-with-the-movie way). This morning, Eugene took 39 folks with him to see the 7:45 a.m. showing of Two Towers (which I keep wanting to call Twin Towers. I can’t be alone on this one).

And here? Well, for starters, there are no 7:45 a.m. showings. I was able to get tickets for tonight as of last Friday at a theater in a ‘burb not too far from here. I found one friend who wanted to see the film. We had two extra tickets, which we were able to sell easily, but everyone I spoke to said, “Oh, I never even saw the first one,” or “Just not into it.” At the theater, we all waited in an orderly fashion inside the theater about 40 minutes before the show started. When they let people in, everyone calmly walked to find a seat. No chatting with strangers (although I did inject myself into a conversation I was eavesdropping on [what? me eavesdrop? never!] behind me about which trailers go on which films). The theater was your average theater, and once the movie started, I was sucked right in, but it wasn’t the same.

Of course, this is probably the last time a big gang is going to a flick in Seattle, too. Eugene is definitely the driving force behind that one, and he’s taking a leave from Amazon (good for you, Eugene!), most likely to climb the very LOTR mountains in New Zealand; Scott is midway on his biking trip from Key West to Sand Diego (last I heard from him, he was nearing Big Bend in Texas); others are preparing to depart and even though I’ve only been gone for a handful of months, I probably wouldn’t recognize most of the people at the company anymore. It seems as if almost every day I get more and more e-mails from folks saying good-bye to Amazon and sending out their new contact info. Almost all the Amazonians I started with are gone, scattered about Seattle and the country. So even Seattle isn’t Seattle anymore (and while some may quibble that Amazon is not Seattle, for many years, for better or for worse, it did seem to be my life). And while I miss Seattle, I’m certainly growing accustomed to Boston’s face. I am quite surprised that I really like all the cold weather and snow. Makes for cozy evenings. My only true complaint about Boston (although I reserve the right to come up with others) is I haven’t met enough folks with spunk. Oh, there are a couple (hi Wendy and Shannon!), but not nearly enough. Know any spunky Bostonians? Send them my way.

And, in the meantime, go see Two Towers. And until you get to the theater, you can listen to the rap. That movie rocked! Go. NOW!

A blog that actually has something to say (thanks to Simon for the link).

If you haven’t read today’s Book Review section in today’s New York Times, then hop to it! Miss Mary has written a lovely review in the “Books in Brief” section and you should all read it and give her your kudos. It’s a banner day for my writing friends. My coworker Jennifer had an article in the BostonWorks section of today’s Globe. If you’re in Boston, go read that one, too!

I’m not sure if Boston is just that different from Seattle during the holiday season or if I’m merely feeling a holiday overload because for the past three years I’ve spent the majority of the holiday season working in a windowless warehouse or sleeping in a hotel, but wow. The holidays are here. Part of me suspects that Seattle just doesn’t play the holiday game like they do here in the Northeast. After all, the weather is never wintery this time of year. Here, the wreaths and bows are a startling contrast to the bare trees and the lights look beautiful on a snowy night. So few trees lose their leaves in Seattle that the holiday foliage blends in. Walking into Wilson Farms this afternoon, the smell of pine was overwhelming, and the wreaths, trees, ornaments, centerpieces, poinsettia dominated the store, making it difficult to find what I was looking for, mainly parsnip and jalapenos (for two separate recipes, thank you). (You know, I just tried to work obfuscate into that previous sentence just because I’m digging that word today, but I realized it wouldn’t work there. Just wanted to mention that.) Christmas is here with a bang. The strange thing is, the Boston area has such a larger Jewish population than Seattle, but it feels like an unusually gentile town. Maybe because Seattle’s was smaller we banded together more so our presence seemed stronger. It’s too diffuse in Boston. The smell of pine trees is the only think I’m jealous of the Christmas-celebrating folks about. I love the smell of pine. I’ve tried pine scented candles, but it’s just not the same, and there’s no way I’d hang a wreath or anything in our house. I’ve thought about secretly hiding boughs of pine somewhere in the house, but it just seems a little to weird. And I guess the other bad thing about being a Jew at Christmastime is it’s one less event that I can be Martha about. In retaliation for the Christmas overload, I went to the other extreme. I had homemade chicken soup simmering all day, so now the house smells even less Christmas and even more Lower East Side. And that’s a good thing.

The CWITs are looking for partners to work admit weekend. Hmmm, this may be the job for me. I could tell the wives what it’s really like. Maybe I should form my own partners club for disaffected wives who are trying–and failing–to fight the Stepford-wife-like domination of the CWITs. We could do things like cigar and martini nights, write newsletters that don’t have egregious typos, and not spam the members on a thrice-daily basis. While the partners do their case night (“just like what they do in a class!!”), we could get stoned and see if we can still pick up men. During mommy and me events we can rally for NARAL. We’ll be just as crafty: while the partners are scrapbooking, we can make “Pussy Power” t-shirts. Our events could actually be fun, stuff like “pedicures and politics,” an evening of debate and pink passion nail polish. I think I’m on to something here. Who’s with me on this!