5 January 2002
|
My tree stands bare in the corner, its branches droopy and dry. I'm thinking I'll pull an MOC and toss it over my balcony instead of dragging it across my living room. Half of its branches snapped off in my hands when I removed the ornaments. Needles fell in clumps when I unstrung the lights. I packed up my decorations, stuffing all of them into two large Rubbermaid bins, and wondered where I'll be when I pull everything out again next holiday. It seemed like it took eras for Christmas to roll around this year, and now it feels like forever ago that it was here. My sense of December's time is skewed. Maybe it was all the driving around, I don't know. All I know is that I'm standing too still right now. We left for Atlanta on Sunday morning, our late start no surprise to anyone who knows me. This time when we dropped off Montego at my parents' it was a quick stop. We ran in, grabbed homemade cranberry bread, hugged my mom and ran out. We tried to find the Steelers game on the radio, but could only listen for the first few Kentucky miles, since Pittsburgh was playing the Bengals. "You know, I really have to respect Cincinnati fans," he told me. "They've never been good." We switched over to the CD player, singing along with the Gram Parsons tribute album, to songs about Las Vegas and L.A. "Why don't they have a Gram Parsons Behind The Music?" I asked him. "I guess the country rock's not a big enough draw for VH1," he answered. "But it would be interesting. I mean, they stole his body!" "I know!" We fast forwarded the Wilco song, but played Lucinda's version of "Return of the Grievous Angel" at least twice. I remembered something you once told me/And I'll be damned if it did not come true/Twenty thousand roads I went down, down, down/And they all led me straight back home to you I read my NaNoWriMo novel outloud and he gave me feedback and laughed at the places I'd hoped would bring laughter. We pulled out the Rand McNally and figured out how to make the U.S. only 25 states. Actually, I think we settled on 27 since we realized we couldn't get rid of Alaska and Hawaii. We need them for oil and tourism respectively, especially the latter since we cut off Florida. We didn't stop much, just once in Kentucky and twice in Tennessee, the second time to get off I-75 since traffic was stopped dead, just outside Chattanooga. We'd planned to get a drink and maybe a snack, but when we turned right into the Burger King parking lot we saw a sign for a detour. Figuring there was no way it could take longer than sitting in traffic, we took it and wound around back Tennessee roads, past stores that sold both bait and couches, past small houses, before meeting back up with the interstate. We got off at T's exit sometime after 6 p.m. but before 7 and were greeted at the door by our friends. We ate crawfish fettucinni and played Cranium - boys against girls and the record stands 1-1. They were astonished when we didn't know which rap group had an ode to sneakers and when we wrongly guessed the Beastie Boys they busted out - "MY ADIDAS!" Later the MOC showed me his Run-DMC record. (Yes, record.) On Christmas Eve T, Allison and I went to get $8 manicures and waited forever. My polish is already totally chipped, but since it was $8, I can't really complain. Then we went to Whole Foods to stock up on food for the party and I found Coppola's Chardonney and bought two bottles, which really should've been four. I'd tasted the wine when we toured Napa and it's incredible. It's my mission to find it in Columbus. By 9 o'clock the food was set and the bottles opened. The time flew by and the next thing I knew we were toasting 2002 along with Dick Clark, raising our glasses full of the most incredible Poinsettias (triple sec, cranberry juice and champagne). One of T's friends, (one of the girls from our Spain trip in fact), brought fireworks, so we went outside and lit sparklers and acted completely irresponsible. The wind was cold and strong, so we huddled around the MOC as he used his lighter to light about five sparklers at once. Al's friend Dan also had contraband sparklers and laying hens and other things that spun and lit up and flew over rooftops. The fireworks gone and our fingers too cold, we went back inside. The party trickled out and we were in bed by 2 o'clock, drunk and alive. Happy to have said good-bye to 2001 together; 2002 already full of laughter. The Outback Bowl Ohio State/South Carolina game started at 11 a.m. on New Year's Day, so we stumbled around gathering our things so we could get to Al and Chris' in time for kickoff. OSU embarrassed me until after half-time when they came back from a four touchdown deficit only to lose by a field goal. Disgraceful. And you know, Bellasari-must-be-drunk jokes really never get old. Around 3 p.m., T and I went to La Madeleine's to meet Robyn for coffee. She's delightful and we had the best time just talking about everything. Plus, it had been so, so long since I'd had La Mad's coffee. (T and I also got chocolate croissants, which sparked us to recount the story of when we found this delicious little bakery on some corner in Barcelona and T ordered a chocolate croissant only to drop it not even five minutes later. It was tragic.) When T and I got back into Fancy, her truly fancy VW Cabrio, to drive back to her house, she told me how she wished she could have Robyn's eyebrows. When I then commented on her beautiful skin, T knowingly said, "It must be the Mary Kay." That night we went to see The Fellowship of the Ring. Simply put, it was magnificent. Only he'd read the books, but since it had been years, he did me no good when I leaned over to ask him questions. It was one of those movies where you turn to look at the people with you and you just have to smile at each other because it's that wonderful. You're glad to have had the chance to share it with them. The snow rolled into Georgia on Wednesday morning and we raced north to escape it. Once we were past Chattanooga the sun shone down on us the entire drive. We made it home about an hour faster and pulled into Columbus around 5:30 p.m. We drug everything up from the car, including Montego whose eyes told me to never take her away from home again, and collapsed on the couch, only getting up to answer the door for pizza. I made him watch Legally Blonde (now my fourth viewing) and I packed up his suitcase. And even though I'm a master packer, I still couldn't squeeze everything in, so I have books and presents sitting on my floor, waiting to be sent home to him. Too bad I can't ship myself. The notify is looking forward to what 2002 brings.
|
