Never before have I been to so many holiday parties. Not bad for being the new girl. They blend together in an early morning snowfall haze of too many drinks, an abundance of finger foods and heaps of idle chit chat. Picture us wrapped in garland and singing Christmas carols. Picture us drinking eggnog and munching on gingerbread men. Picture us as we toast the holiday and then walk out into the 40 degree, no snow winter that is Seattle in December. In 5 days I go home. To snow. To icy. To seeing my breath. Maybe then it will feel like Christmas.
One of the parties ended with a drunk 26 year old in my apartment, in his underwear and me wondering how exactly this happened. We talked most of the night and held hands off and on. He is complex in a "could fuel a trilogy" sort of way. His angst was apparent. Confused. Alone. Unsure. Is that all of us at 26? All of us prone to thinking too much. All of us prone to wearing our hearts on our sleeves. I listened to him unravel and came across as the level headed of the pair. You have no idea how novel that was. Pigs were flying by my window with yellow miners hats on so they could find their way in the dark.
Ha...
Me? Level headed?
From the desk of cryptic being the new straightforward: I had a thing for a thing and it went really well. I don’t know when I’ll hear about the thing, but I’m guessing soon. And while I’m not giving much away, trust me when I say it’s pretty much all I want for Christmas. That and world peace, or something. And those cute lime green shoes. And something to wear with them. But that’s it. I swear.
I've made a new friend and she is a red head. I have another friend who is a blond. We occasionally all hang out. In case you didn’t know, I have dark brown hair. So, together we form some sort of Playboy pictorial waiting to happen. Or better yet, some fast forward to a “where are they now” expose on the Power Puff Girls. We’ve talked a little bit about the hair trio we form and how many hair trios have gone before us - - from Charlie’s Angels to 9-5 to the aforementioned kindergartners out to save the world. We feel as though we should do something with this power, but we can’t decide on anything. We’re too lazy to fight crime. Too shy to pose nude. Seems like the most we can muster is attending happy hours together. Perhaps there is a sitcom in there somewhere.
And incase you were wondering. Yeah, the blond is the hot one. I’m the smart one who cleans up well. And the red head, she’s quirky with impeccable taste in footwear.
I painted this weekend and finished one piece. It’s either proof that I’m crazy or my inner child bonked me over the head and took control of the brushes. It’s a nighttime winter wonderland kind of thing with snowflakes and stars and there are a ... um ... a buncha pandas in it. Some may be floating. Others sitting in trees. Infestation style. It’s cute though. I’ll try to post a picture.
Panda.
Infestation.
Mmmm.
