maybe this year love will appear
deeper than ever before
and maybe forgiveness will ask us to call
someone we love, someone we've lost
for reasons we can't quite recall
maybe this christmas
maybe there'll be an open door
maybe the star that shone before
will shine once more
and maybe this christmas will find us at last
in heavenly peace, grateful at least
for the love we've been shown in the past
maybe this christmas
maybe this christmas
--ron sexsmith, maybe this christmas
12.28.03
After a month of wallowing in the largest vat of self-pity on record, I am compelled to count my blessings.
One of those is for my parents, who gave me the happiest orange box in all the world on Christmas morning.
TiVo is mine.
Honestly, if this had been the only present under the tree with my name on it, I'd have been deleriously happy.
A year ago, I wrote in this very journal that I didn't need TiVo because I didn't watch any television. But over the past twelve months, I have become increasingly jealous of the opportunities provided by this little machine, which is, frankly, smarter than a lot of people. And then, once I found out that my play rehearsals will be three days a week from 7pm to 10pm, I decided it really was necessary, in a world where something that will automatically record everything with Eddie Izzard can be considered a necessity.
So I dropped a few hints to Mr. and Mrs. Claus, and God bless them, they actually indulged me. It's a brilliant little machine, and it only took me about twenty minutes to hook it up. I then stayed up until 2 in the morning screwing around with it.
They also gave my brother and I each a Sonicare toothbrush. This contraption is harder to work than the TiVo is. It's nice because it times itself, so once you turn it on, you just have to keep brushing until it turns off. The problem is that if you take the Sonicare out of your mouth while it's running, disaster ensues. At this point, I have to lean over the sink and just let toothpaste froth fall out of my mouth until the two minutes are over.
My brother and sister-in-law gave me a s'mores maker, which is just what my ass needs. I gave them a fondue pot, so it was kind of related.
My sister-in-law also got me a set of chocolate-scented shower gels from Philosophy. I was touched by the fact that she remembered how much I like Philosophy, but I think anything that smells like chocolate but is not actually chocolate is kind of weird. Hopefully I will be able to exchange it at Sephora, where I will also be able to put to use the gift cards I got from my mother and one of my friends for my birthday.
I also need to to express my thanks for a girl named Mo, who, for reasons I can't explain, was my Secret Santa this year. (Diurna Rule #1: Never talk about Diurna.) When I got home tonight, there was a shoebox in my doorway.
This shoebox was magical. It contained things like dark chocolate covered raspberries and a Lush bath bomb and beautifully scented sparkly dusting powder. It contained a small stuffed panda bear (who I believe may be Russian, judging from his garment). It contained a heart shaped candle holder with a cheery red scented candle. It contained an Anne Taintor postcard with wishes for many men (suitable and unsuitable) to cross my path in 2004, and a rose quartz bracelet rumored to attract them. It contained an absolutely stunning card with my name, translated phonetically into four characters, in Chinese calligraphy. It is beautiful.
It took a long time to collect myself, there, in the middle of my living room floor, looking at the contents of this magical shoebox. The shoebox was magical because Mo herself is magical.
Thank you, my sister. It was worth getting through this month, just to get to this box.