Tuesday, November 30, 2004

The Star Took a Dirt-Nap!

Ahh, it's yet again that time of year. Tinsel and fake snow, Christmas trees, candy canes, and freezing yourself when you yet again need to put gas in your car. Well, nothing's perfect, right? But it's close. One of the best things about this time of year, though, are the lights. It's like a star exploded down the street and left little bits of itself laying around all over the place, like a colony of fireflies invited all their friends, and their friends' friends, and their friends' friends' friends over for a party, but they all ended up too drunk to leave..or turn off their lights.

I greatly enjoy the lights, some of my favorite memories as a child were when we drove home from Grandma's house Christmas Eve and took the side-trips to see all the houses with lights up. Or when we piled in the car and drove down that one street in town that had more lights than the rest of the town combined. (I think the power company could have paid their employees all on the money that one street cost.)

These days, though, my parents don't try to pile my siblings and I into the car and go for a sightseeing tour of town. These days, there aren't as many houses that have lights up; a friend recently pointed out a story, lights now being against a certain city's ordanances for being too distracting or somesuch. I miss the lights these days, but will get to see them one night at least.

For a few days before Christmas, I will again return to visit my parents. And even though I hate flying, it'll be acceptable then. Unless the weather decides to conspire against me and hide all the pretty lights with clouds, for I think of all the ways to see Christmas lights, one of the most novel ones is from above.

Too many clouds, though, and I guess I'll have to settle for real stars instead of their exploded bodies.

Monday, November 29, 2004

Did You Check Behind the Fridge?

Life gets busy. You think it's going to let up, and then you realize that you were, of course, sadly and sorely mistaken. You realize that a month or three has passed and you're not exactly sure where they've gone. You even checked under the cushions on your couch, but all you find are 37 cents in change and a half a potato (potatoe?) chip. But not a month anywhere.

You fear that perhaps someone has broken in and relieved you of your posessions, but after a complete inventory all you discover is that just the months are missing. Well, the months, and a half a potato chip, to match the half you found in the couch. So you know that it can't have been a burgler. Perhaps there's a hole in your apartment somewhere, and the month just leaked away. Or perhaps there're more months on the outside than the in-, and that whole osmosis thing (or whatever it's called when it deals with intangibles traversing boundaries) takes over.

Yes, you're missing a whole month, maybe even two or three. You can't keep track of them anymore, so many seem to have slipped away. And you know you'll never get it back. Maybe this next one will be treated better, maybe when you let it go, however unintentionally, it will decide to return.

Or maybe you'll get distracted by that bird, flying around right outside your window. All those pretty colors and whatnot, you'll get back to thinking about your missing months later. Maybe in 30-odd days.