I read a blog religiously about a young lady who lives in Austin. She's famous and will let you know about it. Her book being well received, but a tad too racy for my own tastes. It reads like a written version of HBO's Sex and the City. I see myself in her and it makes me uncomfortable when I read her blog. She is sort of my yuppie antithesis -- rich, nanny to take care of the children, pool in the backyard. I see myself in her in the way she will reveal intimate details of her life for all to read. She even writes about her self gratification sessions which makes me squirm in this computer chair. I don't find it arousing or sexy at all. I find it gross and unsettling in that she uses her real name on this journal while writing candidly about these masturbation sessions. I am learning what not to do by reading her. It makes me want to withdraw and be reserved in my writings. It has made her famous and also the brunt of many online parody journals and jokes. I wonder if she realizes that many are laughing at her and not with her. Tisk! Tisk! Yet, I still read. Maybe that is why she is so popular. I read for the way she can weave a mundane day's happenings into words. She is truly talented in that regard. I guess as with many blogs you have to take the good with the bad.
This morning found me in a local shop as I noticed Christmas decorations for sale. I smiled as I picked up some ornaments and put them in my basket to buy. For once in my life, I had a home to call my own and room for a Christmas tree. I am already putting aside some money for a wreath to adorn my door made by my father's florist. I did notice how early they start selling this Christmas stuff with it not even being Halloween yet. It kind of sullies the whole reason for the season -- that being of Christ's birth. It has become one big commercial orgy that arrives just once a year. I stepped up to the cashier to pay and she struck up a conversation.
"Real tree or fake?" she asked me.
I smiled and said, "Only real for me!" I love the way a real tree will make my house smell, but I will be vacuuming up needles for weeks after Christmas.
"This will be my son's first Christmas," she said looking wistful.
"The first Christmas is almost as special for the parents as it is for the children," I replied, grabbing my bag of toilet paper, shampoo, and Christmas ornaments.
"An early Merry Christmas to ya!" she said as I walked out the door of the establishment.
I was grinning from ear to ear as I got in my car to drive home. Christmas is always a special time for me -- a time of joy and renewal. A time when my scattered family will come together to eat wonderful food, drink spiced tea, and sit around a fire laden hearth as we open presents. It is hard to believe we're only mere months away from Christmas -- the heat of a 90 degree day making it even more unbelievable.