Ominous

The world feels ominous today. People seem to be squinting at me discerningly, mistrustfully. I heard Target may have been breached and accidentally screwed over 40 million customers. (Not in the usual way of just fooling them into thinking they needed stuff but in a new stealy way). I heard a sweet beautiful girl I know was mistreated at school and that her sweet beautiful mother's pleas for help were ignored. I heard that new bloodshed is happening yet again in some other country in the dark continent that bore us all, and that some other ambassador is saying the same things again that every other ambassador has ever said. I heard that 100,000 daughters, best friends, teachers, grandmothers, tea brewers, mommies, frenemies, fathers, clerks, drivers, sons, wives, husbands, boyfriends, girlfriends, grandpas and single people have died in Syria, 11,000 of whom were baby children. I heard Sanderson Farms' chickens are buggy, not great for either their eaters or employees or delivery truck drivers. I heard the machine guns in the background of Regina Spektor's "My Dear Acquaintance (Happy New Year)" and I hear under the words her commentary - I get it. 

My dear acquaintance
It's so good to know you
For strength of your hand
That is loving and giving

And Happy New Year
With love overflowing

Christmas is coming. I cannot wait to see my my sister - another side of me. But I feel sad today. This is such a deeply sadly beautifully sad time of year. Everyone knows this.

Were those old Christmases really so gay and bright? Or do we just think that now through the haze of nostalgic Polaroids? The plump ladies in their suntan hose and pumps and cat eye glasses, that seemed from another era even then - now smiling up at us from the sticky photo album. On that day were the adults gleeful, or maybe really tired of the kids' shenanigans? Maybe they didn't think it was SO FUNNY when Max and Danny, drunk with excitement, awoke the whole packed household at 3 something am by shrieking and peeing upon the basement wall with delight. 

Maybe we know, underneath, that those olden golden times were just the same as the days are now - and that it's a trick to romanticize the past. That we fool ourselves - our gullible and starved-for-peace selves - and that we buy it, but know it's not true. And that maybe that kernel of knowledge is the source of the little bright feel-good pain. 

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,

Let your heart be light

From now on,

our troubles will be out of sight

Or maybe those were the good old days. And we are sad that they're gone never to be here again. I miss my babies. Holding their bonny bodies. Never ever again. It's too much to know.

Faithful friends who are dear to us

Gather near to us once more.

Through the years 

We all will be together,

If the Fates allow

Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.

And have yourself A merry little Christmas now. 

I miss everyone. And yet.

There are contrasts to this sad ominousness.

Jenna and Terry sent me home from the kids' school today with homemade schnitzel and spaetzle. Two stunningly busy school principals, on the last day of the year, while the entire school is a tornado of hyper excited kids and pizza and music and burp contests and Fritos and Dr. Pepper and chocolate - MADE ME DINNER. 

Fiona's teacher Amy today had an Elf party in her room - complete with quoting along with the movie, eating spaghetti with maple syrup....AND a Coke-chugging burp contest. 6th grade. I think this may be the coolest party I've ever heard of in my entire life.

And the prettiness of nature

The kindness of talking

The safeness of home 

The hilarity of youth 

The security of hearing Mike on the phone talking/working in the other room - taking care of us.

The messy gladness of Violet and Fifi.

My books.

My friends, one of whom is having a bat mitzvah tomorrow.