'Twas The Days Before December....

'Twas the days before December,
and all through our house,
not a sign of Christmas spirit,
not a bit, not an ounce.

I rearranged the furniture,
twice, around our living room,
I finally find the perfect spot,
and drag out the vacuum.

Next I headed to the attic,
and despite my noise and clatter,
not one person looked about,
to see what was the matter.

I heaved the boxes down,
pushed the tree down through the hatch,
dragged it to the living room,
and unpacked our crazy stash.

I looked about in anticipation,
of all the help I would receive,
but Tony just said frankly,
"I didn't even want a tree."

I started with the lighting,
a confused look upon my face,
weird shaped plugs and twisted wires,
spare bulbs all over the place.

I hopefully plug them together,
but my mind there'd be no doubt,
I would absolutely need that string,
that makes the rest go out.

Switching bulbs and colors,
snipping all the wires,
twisting and re-taping,
so as not to start a fire.

Three hours later,
the lights are on the tree,
the garland's strung to fill it out,
and still no one's helping me.

I vacuum once again,
Cussing loudly in my head,
Tony's wrapped up in the game,
and Oldest's still in bed.

What happened to this tradition,
I loved so much as a teen?
Mom always made us cocoa,
as we donned the evergreen.

Friends would come from all around,
Dad always strung the lights,
the tree was far from perfect,
but it was still the perfect night.

I sift through the ornaments,
collected throughout the years,
and what comes from behind me,
but music to my ears.

Youngest, still in his boxers,
has risen from his room,
has come to help with our tree,
and not a minute too soon.

He sorts them with me,
remembering where and when they're from,
a trip, a moment, Santa's lap,
a special moment with his Mom.

Moments from when were were just,
a family of just three and then five,
Memories of all the moments,
we have had since he's been alive.

And while we decorated for mere minutes,
before he headed back down to read,
he always seems to know,
exactly what I need.

Now the tree stand pretty,
taking up tons of precious space,
Tony's team has won the game,
and now he's in my face.

And while it's completion may not bring me,
ample amounts Christmas cheer,
I can cross it off the list as done,
at least until New Year's.

Brick By Brick...

My husband Tony is a bit of a sports fanatic. He's not much of a commercial watcher either.  So it stands to reason, that whenever a commercial comes on, he'll flip to a sports channel.  And he'll watch, basketball, football, soccer, poker, curling, competitive tiddly winks, whatever, as if he had money on the game.  (Which he may have, I have no idea, that's not the point.)  The point is, when it is his team, that block of time is shot.  Outings need to be planned, meals rearranged, and laundry is done on TV time outs and half time.

So when I proposed that Sunday would be 60 degrees and a great day to head into Boston to see an exhibit I was interested in, I immediately recognized the deep sigh and double wrinkled forehead head tilt he responded with.  Patriots and the Revs kick off at 1pm.  Clearly I would be on my own.

Not to be discouraged, I forwent the half price tickets on Groupon, and decided that even if my Mom didn't what to go, I would head in alone. So imagine my surprise when he decided at 8 in the morning that he'd miss kick off so we could go. (What can I say ladies?  I married well. Or he wants something. Again, not the point.)

So, off we went to Faneuil Hall.  We arrived just in time to see the restored lion and unicorn (with time capsules) be unveiled and re-secured atop of the old State House. Confetti from the tree lighting Saturday night still blew through the streets.  Tony couldn't help himself and resulted in several pictures of him trowing it in the air, none of which I can post here as he recruited Youngest into all the shenanigans. Mainly though, we were there to see "The Art Of The Brick" exhibit by Nathan Sawaya.  He creates his masterpieces entirely from Legos, and his use of them is nothing short of amazing.

His use of three dimension to otherwise flat (and often recognizable) canvases is astonishing, and in some cases boggles the mind...

The Easter Island Head used approximately 70,000 gray Legos while the T-rex used just over 80,000. Youngest was most impressed...

But my favorite were the random ones, created from his own experiences, or even himself...

His "Self Portrait" stands over 4 feet high.

Others offered whimsy...

And evoked thought....

He often has large exhibits outside that he constructs from the signed Legos of those who have come to his exhibits.  These over-sized "Tree Huggers" were on display in Central Park over the Spring. He will be creating an exhibit for Boston as well, and our signed bricks will be part of his "Fenway" exhibit.

Tony's favorite was a toss up between "Crowd" in which the people look as if they are just a crowd on the street, but when seen at eye level, they meld into a giant eye staring back at you, and this "stained glass" piece, made entirely of clear Lego bricks...

My favorite was suspended mid air, as if he is ascending into heaven or giving in to a greater power.  Not sure why I loved it, I just did....

After the exhibit we ate our way through the marketplace, stopping at Cheers for lunch, Quincy Adams Candy shop and an attempt at Sprinkles Ice Cream, where the wait was simply way to long.  We perused the shops and Tony insisted we come back for date night, which I suspect had more to do with visiting the Ice Bar than having an actual date.

On the way out we spied the Christmas tree...

which stands easily 25 feet tall.

But the highlight of the trip for the boys would have been Al... a busker from Sydney, Australia, who juggled a chainsaw, 3 machetes, and a spinning wheel of doom, atop a 10 foot pole. He could also fit his entire body through a tennis racket.

Which sadly I have no pictures of.

In the end, it was a great day out.  Tony made it home for half time, and I promptly fell asleep next to him on the couch for the next two hours.  The boys finished up their weekend homework and rounded out their weekend with a fend-for-yourself dinner.

And now I really want to dig the Legos out of the attic...

Hello!

I sent this image as a text to my mother...

Me: "I don't totally hate it."
Mom: "I like it. But you father wants to know why you're digging fence post holes."

*sigh*

Will the worrying never stop?  In truth, Tony wouldn't even let me move the wood. All I did was hold the level and mark the lines.  Eventually the wood will age to the same color, except those orange-ish pieces... we have no idea what will happen with those. Bottom line, it hides the semi-vacant house behind us, gives us a great place to dump our leaves, and ensures Youngest won't take out the windows of said house when he gets his bow and arrow set for Christmas.

Tomorrow marks 30 days since my adventure started.  I have seen my doctor and the surgeon, both of whom concur that I'm healing up just fine and that I can resume "normal" activities provided I don't push myself. I can go back to work on the first of December and if for some reason I feel I need more time I can call them and they will extend the date. I doubt I will extend it out as I am feeling pretty well, with the exception of the pancreas stuff which is still a work in progress.

In the mean time, the Christmas shopping is done, the house is relatively clean, and the cat has no idea what to do with my company all day.  And while I am not venturing on the roof to play with a vat of tar, I have reorganized the closet, done some light yard work, and helped Tony put up the fence in the back.  Before all this I would often think that it would be great being out of work for six weeks.  (Think of how much I could get done!)  But in actuality it's been difficult for me, having the first week completely lost to the hospital and the subsequent 3 just getting through the day, even if that day was of 18 hours of sleeping. Tony endured many, "I'm bored" phone calls, regardless of if I had things I could do, simply because my get up and go had gotten up and went, coupled with crazy weather, dropping temperatures and snow, it really made for a miserable time. I am now fairly certain that "gusto" is contained in your gall bladder, because now that mine is gone, so is my gusto to get things done.  Pair that with not having to work and knowing everything can get done tomorrow, it's making for an very unproductive month.  I didn't even really cook dinner, because cooking dinner involved going to the grocery store and, well, being awake at dinner time. Which more often than not, didn't happen.

Any-hoo-dle, thank you to everyone who checked in on me.  I had some technical difficulties with my computer mouse making it virtually impossible to type.  But I did read and tried to keep up with everyone.  I have a daily dates with Drew Carey and Wayne Brady, have caught up on old episodes of Gilmore Girls and Reba, and Tony and I finished our binge watching of Breaking Bad this weekend. (What happens to Jesse???  Anyone? Anyone?  I would totally love a spin off where he gets his sh!t together and becomes a HS Chemistry teacher with has Brock in his class. Oh come on! You know you want him to have a happy ending. Maybe he becomes a celebrity chef!)  Honestly, it's not my type of show at all, but I got so sucked in by the genius of it.  I mean, seriously? How did they come up with some of this stuff?  I've also had a few Red box days, caught up on some of Janie's suggested movies.  Y'all have made it nice to be home, even if I couldn't write to you while I was here.

I'll be back with better stories soon.  It seems that the bulk of my fodder comes from the insanity of work, which apparently now happens 7 days a week.

And yet still, that last Christmas package hasn't arrived.

They must have sent it UPS...

Returning To Normal...

Oldest: "Mom, can we celebrate my birthday on Saturday instead of Sunday?"
Me: "Maybe, why?"
Oldest: "I just want to celebrate early."
Me: "No, you just want your present early.  It's nice you are getting so excited about socks."
Oldest: "But I really wanted an iPod."
Me: "Dude... I'm out of work... besides, they are really cool app inspired socks.  They tell your vitals, blood pressure, heart rate, AND they measure the bacteria level between your toes!"
Oldest (face palm) "Why would I want those?"
Me: "So you'd know if you were getting athlete's foot."
*eye roll*
Me: "It's so nice you're excited about socks... they are so cool."

As you may imagine, we are well on our way to being back to normal here.  Recovery was going well until last Friday when the night sweats and fatigue started.  On Sunday I went back to the doctors (in the midst of a snow storm thankyouverymuch).  Three hours later I was sent back to the hospital for testing, drinking five cups of radioactive banana flavored barium, and having it injected into my veins for a 20 minute whirl of photos.  It revealed that my gall bladder was missing (shocker) and that I may have a small infection starting.  Fast forward four much milder, beautiful Fall days, some HEAVY duty antibiotics, and I am feeling much better.  I have a follow up with my actual doctor (a story that I'll spare you all)  today, and the surgeon next week.  If all goes well, I should be back to work should be back to work shortly after Thanksgiving.  All things considered the surgery went fine, it's the pancreas they are concerned with, as my numbers still have not returned to normal.

All that to say that I am getting around well and at first glance, look fine. Youngest's memory span being what it is, forgets. So while I am still not at work (I have a 10 lb weight restriction) he thinks I should be able to lift things and take care of everything myself. This has inspired our new game, ten pounds or not.  Seriously.  He's taking to weighing  things.  Laundry basket? 25 lbs.  Laundry detergent? 9lbs.  If it's under 10, I move it.  Over 10, he does. Honestly, it's taking a lot of the arguing out of getting stuff done. I'm waiting to see how long it takes for him to realize that he sometimes pushes down on the scale while he's weighing.

Oldest on the other hand, has been surprisingly, amazing. (And no I don't think it's because he's got a birthday coming). I have not seen one eye roll, heard one "No", or "Can I do it later." He just gets up and does it. He will even start the laundry when I ask him to just bring the basket down, or put the trash out when I've just asked him to pull it out for me.

When he was little we battled a lot about his need to be the man of the house.  His father grilled it into his head that since we were divorced, it was now Oldest's job to "take care of things".  It drove me crazy, and it's a battle we have had for years.  It's not his job to be the grown up. It is his job to be a kid... a teenager... in charge of no one but himself.

And now, while he's never had t be the "man" of the house, with the whole experience I am soon realizing that I am loving the man he is becoming.  And of all the things to come from this not so fun experience, THAT is my favorite.