The World According to EDW

This was going to be a gush-fest about our absolutely perfect, loving, fun, drinking required Christmas Eve.


It was all that and a bag of chips. Really. And in other super exciting news (for me, anyway) I wore a dress I haven't fit into for four years.


With the red shoes, which are hotness themselves.


This year it was 23 of us: Jackie, Andrew and their two kids. Jackie's two brothers, her mom, and her nephew. The M's and E and Scott with Scott's parents. Nick's mom and dad, Jodi and Greg, and of course the three of us and my mom and dad. We ate lots of yummy Polish food with some Italian thrown in. We drank champagne and opened presents. We laughed and told each other that we loved each other.

But if we're being honest, and we are, the real story of the night is how I managed to get unbelievably wasted and threw up for hours with my girlfriends by my side in my mom's bathroom...just like high schoolers do. Only, I'm 33.



Good times.



But then? Emily threw up two nights later and I was able to tell her that Mommy goes "blah", too. And it's okay because sometimes you need to go blah. My life lesson is to never take the shots my Dad offers me. He is a drink pusher and he must be resisted!


So for 2008, no more shots. Unless it's a car bomb on St. Patrick's Day. Wait, no! No more shots! For one year. Let's see how far I get with it, shall we? Any New Year's resolutions you want to share? Oh, and the rest of the photos are here. Hope your holiday was just as merry with less puking. Cheers!

Wow. So much to tell you.

Tonight is our Christmas Eve celebration, the annual dinner of Polish foods, Wigilia. This tradition has become the most important part of Christmas to me, the thing I look forward to the most. We've changed many things over the years, going from semi-Polish meals to strict Polish meals, to this year, a hodge-podge of many foods brought by friends but with a few cornerstones like pierogis and fish.

I'm really tired today, because I was up way too late last night. Remember Emily's little friend Nicole who was in critical condition in the spring? Well, she went to the ER last night with the same croup that took her there six months ago. When she gets this, her throat starts to close and that's why they need to take her to the hospital. It's viral, and kids are prone to it since they have smaller airways to begin with. She is in much better shape than last time, because she's receiving medical treatment earlier. But of course her mom is worried and scared, and it's Christmas. So that's where I was most of last night, just hanging out at the hospital for when she needed to vent.

I need to go wrap a few presents and put away some laundry and pull out our dressy clothes for tonight - the red shoes will be making their appearance, of course. And I'm going to be grateful for the health of my child, for family and friends, and for the medicine which is helping both my mom and Nicole. Say a little prayer for Nicole and her family, if you have the time. They're scared and they need hope and joy tonight. Merry Christmas to you and yours!

Update: I just spoke to Nicole's mom, and she is getting discharged! It will still be a few days of watching her and being cautious, but she'll be with her family tonight.

I hope all of you are with the ones you love, too.

Last weekend was busy. In addition to Cindy's visit, Stephanie and Stephen and Jacob were home for a visit, and we had everyone over to see them on Saturday night. As 16 of us gathered in my home to eat turkey and celebrate friends, I went outside. Only for a minute, but do you know what a house looks like all lit up? Everyone inside, talking, laughing, and you can see what you feel? That's what houses are made for, to shelter family and friends, to be a place where others gather and celebrate. There weren't any presents, and it wasn't about food. It was about the people in my living room, kitchen, and den.



What better gift could I ask for?

The rest of the pictures are here.

I have my beloved cousin, Lisa. Peas in a pod, the best of friends, the one you can cry with or laugh with on the phone. Family.

I have another cousin, in the same part of the country, reachable by the same airport, only minutes away from Lisa. Her name is Cindy, and she started out as Nick's favorite cousin.

They grew up together like Lisa and I did, playing together, sharing secrets, having talks. They just get each other, like Lisa and I do. And, happily, luckily, Cindy and I get each other, too. We are often found hiding from the rest of the family, in the one unoccupied room in the house, telling our stories. The good, the bad, the stuff you have to whisper but suddenly can't wait to tell each other. "Remind me to tell you this" we say, in the manner of all good girlfriends. We gossip and laugh and get deep and get silly. We always wish we had more time together.

Last night she and her husband Eric came to stay with us for a day. We stayed up until nearly 2am talking. Their two kids and my one played non-stop. We had conversations that veered and turned, interrupted temporarily by meals and kids and very little sleep. Exhausted but happy, we said goodbye this afternoon, so they could head down to Philly and celebrate their son's 6th birthday with the family. We parted with smiles and hugs and, naturally, topics we've promised to pick up in a week, when we hid out from the family on Christmas day.

Just as it should be.

Ah, Christmas specials. You know those second rate, crapptastic ones that you might claim to love from childhood, but that no one really goes to bat for in arguments born of beer and late nights? Like Nester, the donkey? I usually avoid those.

But now I have a three year old, a husband who comes home late, and I work from home. So guess what? It's Nester for us.

Nester is awful. Really, it's just dreadful. Sappy and useless. Depressing. Poignant and heartwarming in the worst way. As we watched, I kept feeling like it was child abuse. I stopped the work I was doing and moved to the couch, to hold my child through this terrible moment of her childhood which she flatly refused to end by turning off the TV.

But you know what? She was fine. A little confused by where poor Nester's mom went (she dies, but they say she's "lost"). Emily kept asking if when it was over, Nester would find his mom. But shockingly, she seemed to enjoy it. We followed it up pretty quickly with Frosty, to wipe the memory from her brain.

You may be wondering what the point of this post is; it's simple, really. Some Rankin-Bass productions are just shit. Sorry to rain on your childhood memories, but this one really should stay in the vault.

Hey, do you guys read the comments I respond to on this site? Or is it better to try and email you replies? Vote now!

photo courtesy of Nick

Friday, December 7, 2007
Remember when Richelle saved Christmas and bruised herself?
Remember when we ate Pat's Cheesesteaks?
Remember when the guy thought we ordered marshmallows when we asked for birch beer?
Remember when Rob and I were laughing hysterically about closing the drapes?







Saturday, December 8, 2007
Remember when Nick yelled at the woman crossing the street in Red Bank?
Remember when Nick charged at the car from Florida?
Remember when Rob and Nick discussed tapas versus set menu?
Remember when we saw the van Marah had rented the night before get hit by the four female NYPD officers?
Remember when Rob disappeared?
Remember when we all yelled at the cabbie who wouldn't go to Brooklyn?
Remember when I sang all the words to "Heart of the Matter" by Don Henley?
Remember when Rob's story in the car made the three of us and the driver laugh hysterically?
Remember when all the clothes were hideous?
Remember when I got lost?








Driving home on Sunday night, I was surprised at how fast the weekend went. It was a lot crammed into 48 hours, from 5pm on Friday night to 5pm on Sunday night. I know it's crazy, how I feel about Marah. I know it's crazy that two of our best friends live in Vancouver and come out for these shows. I know it's crazy that despite the obvious distance and lack of regular hang-out time Richelle and I are really good friends. I know it is, but it's just as crazy as you meeting your husband or wife or best friend. Which is to say, crazy but crazy in the this is right way. I know most of you who read this blog are never going to get how I feel about this band, never have it click in your head and heart, and that's okay. They are fucking amazing and so is the new album and so was the show Friday night but also, really, on Saturday night. Friday night was good, but Saturday blew it out of the water, and it's now in my list of top five best Marah shows.

In case you were wondering, I've seen Marah 18 times. In two years. We've seen 9 of those shows with Rob and Richelle, and spent 6 weekends with them, and met them one other time. But numbers don't mean shit. This is what matters:


I love you guys.


For the rest of my photos, go to the set and check out Chrissy's, too.

Today they land in NYC.

Tonight we go and worship at the altar of rock and roll. We will stand right in front of the stage, we will drink beer, we will sing along, we will take pictures, and we will laugh. Tonight we're just there. We walk in with everything we have in our life and we don't forget it, we don't leave it at the door. It's those things, the good and the bad and the in-between, that make us appreciate those many moments of being in the moment. It's with all of us that we sing out the words and laugh and sing to each other. Good music doesn't mean you leave it all behind. It means you carry it with you and it makes you appreciate the crystal clear perfection in a song, or the beauty in the imperfections of the people around you. You feel it. You know it. You get it.

There's no such thing as a blank slate in life, and maybe there's no such thing as linear time. But we do have ritual, and ritual matters. So tonight I remember a year ago today - the freezing cold of the city streets, the hot sweat of the club, the lukewarm beer in my hand. I remember saying goodbye to a friend. I remember catharsis this weekend, feeling happiness and freedom and joy and some sadness, all mixed in. Losing and gaining, but being myself in all of those losses and gains. I remember friendship and madness in my soul. And East, baby, where the South Street floats into the sky.

Tonight they land, Rob and Richelle, and so do Stephanie and Stephen and Jacob. To my mind, they're coming home, all of them. There's something very circular here. This is what we did last year; this is what we do again. Some changes, of course, but some change is good, and the rest, well, it just makes us happy to be here.

And if you're lonely
And you feel so far from home
I know where the sun shines at night
And we're dancing in the light
And maybe we just don't need no more
Baby we just don't need no more
- Marah, What 2 Bring

Where I was last year: the recap and when Stephanie left.

Unlike 95% of sane people, I like details. I like planning. I like making lists and schedules and itineraries. If you don't remember the color-coded Excel spreadsheets from my Disney trip, then just spend 24 hours with me in NYC and watch as I take out of my bag a helpful list of places we're going, nearby subway stops, and other alternatives with times and transportation noted.

This love of detail extends to trying to get others to participate with the same level of glee. This is where I depart from the land of the sane. This Christmas I'm not doing that. I'm making life easier for myself, but also for the man I love.

We are the pick it, chainsaw it, drag it home type of Christmas tree buyers. This requires nearly an entire day, many gloves, a supply of hot chocolate and the Hour of Doom when we bring it home and try and try again to balance it properly in the stand as sap drips all over me. Then the boxes must be hauled out and the lights strung. I give up and walk away, leaving Nick to manage the lights while I think about the dinner we are all ravenous for. After eating, I am left to put all the ornaments on while Emily tries to take them all off. It's fun, really.

After painting the living room single-handedly, I thought Nick might want a simpler holiday prep. I'm the one who enjoys doing all this anyway. So last Monday I bought a pre-lit tree. And set it up. And pulled out only the decorations I absolutely love. The rest are getting boxed up and sold at a garage sale in our future, or given to Jackie for her classroom.

I've done this before, weeded through the Christmas stuff. But this year it's thinner and sparser and just better. I'm happy with the stuff I have, the stuff I love. And oh, yeah, I bought a new tree skirt, one I picked out, one I like. For 8 years I've had tree skirts I didn't like, but no more. This one even has a neat-o Velcro closure on the back. Why do any of them have ties? That's so annoying.

I'm sure some won't even consider me decorated, but there's no doubt it's Christmas in my house. The last week of November we were set up and good to go, and now we have five weeks of enjoyment, and no stress about it. Really, that's a gift to all of us - me, Nick, and Emily. Everyone should have one Christmas with a little less stress, right? When there's so much other stuff to worry about, it seems silly to get upset over things that should only bring pleasure. That's my Christmas, this year.

Today I cried in public. Seriously, how embarrassing is that? Pathetic. After that, I figured I might need to change the course of my week. I spent the day with myself, in really good company. I got a pedicure, because my cure for total stress is a pedicure - cheaper than therapy and about the same amount as booze. I went to the bookstore and walked around. It's been ages since I did that and it's pretty necessary to my soul. I had a nice lunch. It wasn't lonely. I went and bought a few new tshirts and a scarf I really needed. I spent the day with myself, and I felt like I had spent the day with a very good friend.

When I got home, I put on an old green flannel shirt and let Emily draw in my Very Important Lists notebook while I read for a bit. Damn, this was a rough week. But I did it. I lost weight, I ate well, I kept my life running, I made 220 pierogis. I went above and beyond, and I did it well. But I need a day off. If I had carried on like a crazy person today, I'd be yelling at my kid right now and crabby when my husband walked in the door, and I'd still need a new scarf and a black tshirt. It's hard to put your needs first when you have a million other things to do, but if you don't put your needs first, you don't have the energy for those million other things.

Our friends are coming in this weekend and that's the one thing that's not stressing me out. I'll still change the sheets and clean the bathroom, but I don't really care about things being perfect. I'm just happy to see them. Also, I strongly suspect that they don't really care about the state of my stove grates.

I have to go feed myself now, but later, after I do some housework and paid work (I didn't get out of that, just postponed it) I'll repost the pierogi post, and you, too can make 220 pierogi!

Bonus points if you know the song without Googling the lyric.

I'm at my mom's making pierogis. I'm taking pictures and writing down what we do, so very soon I'll be back to share some pictures and the recipes. Until then, this post is filler for my five faithful readers who might think I've dropped off the face of the earth. Not so! Just being Christmasy.