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12.25.2004
Every year, I talk to my dad a few weeks before Christmas and we decide that this year, this year we will scale it down. Christmas will change because Alexis and I are older and my dad is paying for college and we can't afford to do a big shindig.

Every year, the week before Christmas is hectic and full of shopping and I wonder where my dad is when he says that he has so much to do, and so little time.

Every year, on Christmas day, my dad and I wake up earlier than my mom and my sister, and we listen to Christmas music on the radio. I drink my coffee, he drinks his tea, and we lament the fact that everyone stayed up too late drinking wine and wrapping presents.

Every year, I sneak out to the living room to take a look at the tree with all the presents underneath, and in my head, I think, "oh man. we overdid it again."

Every year, I'm the one to knock quietly on doors and sneak into beds and say "it's wakey time! Merry Christmas!"

I wonder when we'll actually scale it down. Maybe once our rooms aren't exactly the way we left them. Maybe once Alexis and I can actually consider ourselves women. For now, we're still girls, and we still talk about Christmas as if Santa had visited us in the middle of the night.

Right now the air smells of cinnamon and christmas tree. It's nice to be home.

.: posted at 1:23 PM  
link :.

12.8.2004
I'm drinking cold coffee. I'm on my period. I haven't slept enough. My paper is far too complicated for my own good.
.: posted at 2:24 PM  
link :.

12.1.2004
Why is it that December is always able to sneak up on me? Writing the 12 on my notebook paper this morning was shocking. Yes, I knew it was December but there was something about seeing it on paper that surprised me. Wasn't it just christmas? Wasn't I just lamenting the fact that my dad can't help but overdo it because when we were kids we asked for so much more?

I'm not liking the rain today. Usually I am just content to sit inside in my sweats listening to soothing music with the backbeat of the raindrops sneaking through the tiny cracks around our not-so-well-insulated windows. Or, even if I must go outside, I often just give into the wetness- "yes, today I will get wet. Facts are facts and the only way I can get through this day without ending up miserable is if I just face them." But today is different. Today, the stringy hair and the darkened wet suede on my shoes and the sogginess of my lower pant legs have just irritated me. The high winds haven't helped by inverting my umbrella on far too many occasions.

It's helpful to remember that I'm seeing Martin Sexton in Boston on Friday with my lovely friend Katie. It's also nice now, knowing that I have another hour and a half before I have to slip back into normal clothes and face the hurricane weather outside.

I'll just revel in the dry warmness that is my room and think about what to get people for Christmas.

.: posted at 1:14 PM  
link :.



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