How many times can an airlines lose your luggage in one trip? Oh that's right, twice... once on the way to Seattle and once on the way back. All in all flying home to see my parents was a good experience, despite the luggage fiasco. My mother has lost a whopping 87 pounds (an entire Linsay Lohan) and she looks great. My sister and I noticed a few days into it that the house was like her personal catwalk with about four outfit changes each day. My parents both have adapted to eating healthier and are on a pretty unrestricted diet as long as it is a vegetable or on their program dietary list. They both still managed to lose a little weight even with the holiday rich foods. I'm really proud of them.
My trip into Seattle alone the first Friday I was home, a pilgrimage that I do at least once a visit, was fun and sad this time around. I was disheartened to see how many relics from my past had been torn down or were slated for demolition to make way for pre-fab condo buildings. So. so. sad Seattle, how could you? The city loses more of its funky heart every time I visit, and soon all it will be left with are condo lined streets with a wet discarded flannel shirt lying in the middle of the street to remind it of its grunge induced past.... At least the coffee was good, and I could still get my hair cut at the Rudy's in Capitol Hill. A trip to Market Spice in the Pike Place Market flooded me with memories of helping my roomies with inventory and getting paid minimally. If they only knew how much our kitchen had been stocked with stuff that "fell of the shelf" or was "Discontinued" or just "walked off," they'd have charged us to do inventory. We had every spice, tea or coffee known to man those bizarre few years we shared that house on 12th avenue in Caitol Hill.
With Christmas in full swing, it was one of those times of year I actually don't mind hearing all the standard Christmas tunes, except for my anger filled hatred for the song "The Little Drummer Boy." I did however find a version of this song that both warmed my heart, and made me enjoy this holiday jewel: "The Little Drummer Boy" as performed by Grace Jones on the Pee-Wee's Playhouse Christmas Special. It is a version at once horrific, nearly pornographic, and commanding.... in a word hilarious. My mom had to run into the room to see what was making me cackle so loudly.
After I returned home I helped work on a Rose Parade Float for the city of LaCanada/ Flintridge. My sister and brother once worked on this city's float and I always wanted to be part of the action as a kid. It was a fun experience, ended all too soon as my stomach wasn't co-operating in allowing me to stand upright about halfway into my shift. I enjoyed those I met, and getting to paste some love onto the big goofy masterpiece, but was a little pissed the day of the parade when my tivo was surveyed and the damned float didn't even make it into the coverage. C'est la vie!
New Years was a drink induced evening of fun and merriment with hugs all around, fire spinning, having to put out a friend's pant leg after said fire spinning caught him ablaze, and lots of good company. Just the way you want to spend a New Year's Eve. The next day......they rested....and slept in......long past noon.....even past 4pm.... feeling like a lump and moving to the couch.....and then returning to sleep.
Today its back to work, and back to reality. I'll be posting more frequently again too, I promise.