It's Sunday night and I always feel a little bit blue on Sunday nights, especially when the following things are happening:
1. My family is getting together for a party and I'm stuck in New York.
2. The Steelers are losing.
3. It's winter and it has gotten dark at 4:00 PM
4. I'm growing out a bad hair cut and am in the "unfortunate" stage.
5. I've come to the realization that though I live in New York City, I've been forced to do all of my holiday shopping online because I'm not able to get to any store that won't charge me an arm and a leg because they've got to pay their New York City rent.
6. I still need to buy a gift for my new boss AND my old boss and I have no idea what to get them. Harry and David, here I come.
The weekend has gone fast and I've accomplished little. I did finish working on a sweater vest for myself (pictures when the sun is up again). I love the sweater, it's Boogie from an old Knitty pattern. The new Knitty is up, so check that out.
And! Whoever bought out all of those copies of Pat's book on Amazon - thank you! My Barnes and Noble had 5 on order and I ordered an additional three, so Brooklyn folks, check back this week, your copies will be available.
Apart from feeling a bit blue tonight, I am happy to be sitting in the shadow of our sparkling Christmas tree. The holiday season is one of the most important for folks in my religion. It's also a time for wonderful memories. I like to think back to where I used to sit every year on the floor near the couch at my grandparents house to open presents. I love to picture my grandfather pulling the turkey out of the roaster and carving it on the kitchen table. I like to think about my Aunt Tay reading me the funnies from the paper. I love recalling the feeling of how stinking hot it was at my grandparents house on 3 Stockton Avenue and my mother quietly and forcefully reminding my brother and I that we were, under no circumstances, to remove our shoes in their house as the carpets were full of coal dust from the heater. I love to think back to showing my cousins the new toy I'd gotten that morning from Santa and ohhhing at the toys that Santa had dropped off at their house for them. I love to think of my mom playing Christmas carols on the old piano that now sits in my brother's house, the one she learned to play on in the 50's. I love to remember sitting on my father's lap and feeling his body shake when he laughed and how strong his arm was that held me in place there. I love to remember our drive home Christmas night, feeling full of turkey and our traditional treats, looking forward to playing with the toys that we'd left at home that morning and slipping to sleep, full of all of that love in the backseat of my parents car. I wonder sometimes if I'll ever feel those feelings again and I am hopeful. After all, isn't this the season of hope?
For now, that's all the news that's fit to knit.