Here’s what I’m not worrying about right now:

Instead, I’m having coffee in an incredibly sunny window, with a view to a blue, cloudless sky. Back home away from snow and familial regression. Yay, California.

I’ll say one thing about “home” for the holidays. Hanging at my brother’s has a certain je ne c’est quoi, a lawlessness.

I just got up in just my pajamas (in the house of Pat robes were compulsory) and grabbed a soda in the can and brought it to bed with me. Because I can. Because sodas in this house come in the rare can form which only existed on field-trip days in my youth in this town.

Soda in the can was a rare and wondrous extravagance. And, this soda is brand name. Nothing less.

Here, I can just grab one and drink it in bed. Could have even been a beer.

Strangely, I do, in fact, have cans of soda in my own home, left over from a pre-party Costco trip. I could also drink one in bed. But, there, it has no sense of taboo adventure. Here it’s subversive-y.

Technorati Tags: Boston, Christmas, Pat

Holidays were more relaxing when I didn’t have to travel 3,000 miles. Except, of course, all of the stressful shit about worrying about my mother, backing stopping her holiday stress and the usual family frivolity and layers of cliched dysfunction and baggage. Yes, the olden days. We’ll always have Paris.

Now, I’m here alone in my borrowed room. M. having forsaken me for the coast. And, really, I blame him not at all. I myself yearn for the left and the home and the sea breeze.

At the same time, it’s great to see people, and I’m sorry for the people I will see in too small doses and/or miss seeing entirely. Tomorrow, I may try to go a little wassailing to make up some time for people I see too little.

As always, I think pretty much in any adult life, holidays are that thin line between the life you live and the friends you choose versus the was that isn’t (and may never have been) that your family sees. To me, today, that’s a striking contrast.

Last night I was out with friends who I love for not having to explain myself. Friends that I made through the performing and writing I have chosen. Outside that enclave it’s a bit tough to describe a ridiculous and spontaneous dancing circle at a bar expanding as the crowd jumped in to the scene we created. It’s also nigh impossible to impart the rambling, impassioned discussions about writing, performing, getting out some voices inside that call for that sort of thing. Ginsburg’s without the pretentiousness implied by my tagging along to the Beats or the LSD.

I mean for some hours in the evening there was all of this:

And, like Brigadoon or Cinderella’s mousey carriage or the earth before the Rapture, the morning came and that made up world was gone. A prosaic trudge back to the town where I was raised, locked out of the house where I have never lived but spent much time, back nestled with the folks who invite me back time and again despite my whinging, thankful for the night-owl genes of my nephew for letting me back in the almost dark house, but back on terra firma, my erstwhile “home.” Feet of clay and weird, little sisterness seeping back to my veins.

On the plus side, by moving away the people best taken in smaller doses are kept in little medicinal rations. And by returning, you realize that the life you have made, the one you choose, is the right one. I love the days I have with people who only know me now and don’t make me feel alien or tell me I’m stupid. (In fact, I regret the number of years I had of growing up and hearing the word “stupid.” I don’t like hearing it now.)

I never cry in California. But, back “home,” I’m crying now.

Technorati Tags: Boston, California, Christmas, comedy, family, photos, writing

Two things are true. I like to try to do something homey (or homely) and handy-like for the holidays. And, two, I’m obsessed with our lemon trees. (The rain for the last couple of days is killing me. I got crops to bring into the kitchen.)

This year’s experiments have been limoncello and lemon extract for baking.

You know what’s key about that professional packaging from the lovely image borrowed from the professionals at Cook’s? They use a brown bottle. Now, I’m sure there’s all sorts of scientific, light-breaking down, oxidizing reasons behind that brown bottle. But, I think it’s primary function is aesthetic.

Here’s a collection of some of my home-making, focus on lemon extract.

Maybe it’s the choice of jars or the lighting, but that’s some sample I have there. To put a finer point on it, here’s an Absolut vodka add you won’t be seeing in a magazine.

Absolut Piss.

Lemony flavored goodness, mind you. But, aesthetically, well they’ll be some conversation pieces gift-wise.

In further proof I will never reign as supreme as a Martha Stewart, here’s the collection with an actual bottle of limoncello a friend gave me from a recent trip to Italy. They do taste similar, and the recipes I blended from the web (which ranged from 5 days of soaking lemon zest to 80 days and a lot of theme and variation) were equivocal as a group on cloudy or clear. I don’t know if I did it wrong or right, but I can see it looks suspicious.

Oh, and I discovered I’m probably not the sort with a future on the streets. I spilled a whole slew of lemony vodka goodness all over our glass table, and I licked it not once. Nor did I suck on the rag I used to mop it up. Temperate am I.
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Technorati Tags: California, lemons, urine, Christmas, Italy, limoncello

Our friends work at what could be the world’s biggest drug dealers. Unlike my employer, for which much is reserved and non-demonstrative, like the tasteful and lovely poinsettias that are the only “holiday” decorations, Genentech can do up a shindig. They took over the usual playground of baseball’s SF Giants, threw tents, activities, food, a ferris wheel, bands and bars around, you know regular, low key stuff.

AT&T Park is right on the waterfront in San Francisco. In the summer, M. and I could barely see Fourth of July fireworks on account of the fog. But, privatized fireworks in December, fucking awesome. I loves me some pyrotechnics.

Thanks, Robert J. (Research) and Nancy.

Technorati Tags: Christmas, photos, San_Francisco

So earlier in the week I dodged a bullet about dodging a bullet. The afternoon before I was told to report back to jury duty for jury selection, the court called me and relieved me of my duties. Thank god. This one would have been a bitch.

Somewhere this week 12 other people were getting hit by that which I was lucky enough to miss. Lucky because it was a murder trial. Luckier still, because it sounded like a very fucked up murder trial even in just the brief paragraph that intro’ed the page after page questionnaire we the possible jurors had to complete. (A lot of questions on whether I’d ever experienced the inner workings of the American system of juris prudence. I don’t know if it was my frank answers about stupid things like an ounce of my bro’s pot back in the day or the number of lawyers in the branches of the family tree, they didn’t pick me.)

Go ahead and Google Mohammed Monie. I’m not sure what is more crazy, it’s 80s vintage, the confession by someone else to young to try, the tricked out muscle car, the lack of the old, literal, habeus corpus, or the mistrial last year after two days, but I knew I didn’t feel great at the prospect of being in on it.

I never expect murder trials to be as neat as they are in a one-hour block minus commercial interruptions on my TV screen. But, this case just seems desperate and crazy. Whoever rejected me from my service before my schedule got completely jacked, I thank you.

Meanwhile, the only thing on my brain is the upcoming holiday. The Norelco razor season seems crazier and more empty than usual. I never thought an electric razor was the perfect gift. But, when the economy is in the shitter and the world seems to be headed to hell in a hand bag? Yeah, not really.

If you know me, expect products from my lemon tree and, I hope, some things that are a bit up from the sniff of desperation at the mall. No Salad Shooters from me. Although, maybe a nice, one-of-a-kind juicer.

Technorati Tags: murder, California, Christmas, economy, jury, law, court, trial

For everyone out there, many greetings of the season.

We took a quick stroll only a couple of blocks or so. We certainly moved to a merry-making ‘hood. We strung a couple of lights ourselves so as not to be shunned. And, at least one light stringer seems proud to be an American or maybe forgot the red AND GREEN color scheme tradition.

Technorati Tags: California, Christmas, home, Pacifica, photos, suburbs

Technorati Tags: Bay_Area, California, Christmas, home, Pacifica, photos, suburbs

- Paid our first mortgage payment
- Received our first tax bill
- Didn’t hyperventilate
- Got our first Christmas tree (technically second, but we tend to silently block out the Nick years)
- There are pluses and minuses to living with a guy who buys a tree with an emphasis on “efficiency,” because he had the rental car anyway
- Speaking of Nick — Our second apartment was like bizarro world. When the apartment management company messed up our final walkthrough twice and generally weren’t helpful, the landlord intervened and just sent us back our security deposit in full.
- The problem with making homemade thank you notes for housewarming gifts — You still have to sign and hand them out to people. AKA the toil side of crafting.
- With the cute little home in a fabulous (really breathtaking scenery-wise) location, I kind of obsess on one of my stand-up jokes. Really, with the way it’s going we are way overdue for a terminal illness.
- Fuck the automakers. Fuck them hard. Let’s list all of the industries that Congress will never consider bailing out, like say casinos in Nevada.
- I kind of hate John Dingell now, not that I ever loved him
- The boss suggested it wouldn’t be that hard to pitch a fit/otherwise act crazy during next week’s jury selection. If only I could videotape for Youtube.com
- Still have resisted the urge to research the fuck out of the murder case on the web
- If anyone in Boston cares, we’ll be heading there some time. I don’t have any particulars yet. Email or call me for a reunion.
- I’m devoid of Christmas gift ideas. Right now, I’m thinking ShamWow for everyone, because the Germans always make good stuff.
- Looking forward to wearing what I will always consider Dot’s sweater. I’ve kept the tags on to keep it looking like new

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Technorati Tags: writing