Go Shorty, It's My Birthday

Subject: The Golden Januarys, Sunday January 17

Hello Friends! Hard to believe it, but it's that time of year again - it's time for The Golden Januarys! That's right, the Hollywood Foreign Press Association has decided to hold its Golden Globe Awards on MY BIRTHDAY! What better way to honor Hollywood's tradition of self-aggrandizing than to throw a party for myself. So please come and celebrate me with me. We will be watching the other biggest show in town, of course. Information is as follows:

Date: Sunday, January 17

Time: 4:30 pm (The Golden Globes air live from 5-8:00 PST)

Place: My apartment!

Bring: an appetizer themed appropriately for the event, such as Brad Pitted Dates Wrapped in Kevin Bacon, or Chicken Little Satay. So many of you work in a creative field; now is your time to shine! Have fun with this one. I'll have the drinks and of course the Golden January Cake.

RSVP: by email, text or phone

Should the HFPA decide to properly honor the date and send a limo for me to attend the ceremony (they still haven't returned my calls, I don't know why) I will of course bow out and you can munch on (500) Days of Spinach Dip or whatever goodies abound in my absence. In light of the way this year's Cecil B. DeMille Award recipient Martin Scorcese ran screaming when he saw me in Beverly Hills the other day, I'm guessing I'll probably be viewing from home with you. But one never knows. I love ya, Marty.

xoxo January

16 Days, 6 States and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

When I booked my trip back in September I used frequent flier miles to make it possible. Normally 25,000 miles would buy a round trip continental flight. Alas, flying during peak times - Christmas and New Year's being as peak as it gets - means there either 1) are no frequent flier seats in existence, or 2) are none left, all of them having been snapped up last January by people who both make their holiday plans ridiculously early and finish their Christmas shopping on December 26. Never mind that the sweater Aunt Joy buys for her nephew Charlie is three sizes too small by the following December. The $3.74 price tag at Target makes it worthwhile. And snagging a cross-country ticket with only 25,000 miles despite the fact that Uncle Steve will be hit by a garbage truck backing up in the end of his driveway in April and won't be around to deck the halls come December doesn't matter at all. The $100 fee per ticket to change plans is an acceptable risk.

So when I booked my ticket, I had no choice but to use 50,000 to get the itinerary I wanted. The downside of that is obvious. The upside is, I get to fly First Class on my return. Yee haw. It's been snowing a lot in the Northeast and my friends wanted to leave plenty of time for our trek to Logan Airport so early we left... and early we arrived. Two full hours early. Checking in and getting through Security took... ten minutes. But by the grace of God and for the paltry sum of an extra 25,000 frequent flier miles, I have a First Class ticket and therefore am sitting right now in the Admiral's Club. But for the rugrats scrambling around me for an open computer (there are three others next to me), this rocks. Free weak coffee and supermarket cookies! I'm living large, baby! Of course, there is a chance this complimentary internet access may expire at any time. I would hate to be in the middle of a grand thought when my posting disappeared. So I'll keep this short and sweet. American Airlines, kindly keep the plane on the runway when we land in LA this evening. I've been hearing you're getting sloppy with that. And maitre'd, refill those cookies. I've got 24,500 miles more worth of them to eat.

Time Keeps On Trippin'

Time is a trippy motherfudger.

I'm on Long Island, near the area where I grew up. My earliest memories look just like the places I went today: small houses tightly packed on every street, trees lining the spaces in between and every empty lot, diminishing as those are these days. Snow is coating everything following a recent storm. I can almost feel the same air I used to breathe. It's weird, and not a little unsettling.

Nothing about this place feels current. It all feels like an old dream. Where I live - my current life - the houses tend toward Spanish or Craftsman or Mid-Century in style. Here the old Dutch Colonials stare back at me, beckoning me to come inside. Come walk around with my eyes closed. I know the way by heart. Did I really live here, grow up here, have an entire existence here before I knew there was more?

We had dinner at my aunt and uncle's tonight with my grandfather. Grandpa has Alzheimer's disease and it's been a couple of years since I've seen him, between my living out of state and his reduced attendance at the annual family gatherings. My dad and I picked him up from the home where he lives now and brought him back to my aunt's. He was hunched over and using a walker, and though he seemed to recognize me as an old familiar, he certainly didn't know my name and couldn't retain where we were going or why. He did manage a bit of a quip every now and then, a throw-back to his razor sharp wit and gregarious nature. And when the Christmas carols came on, he sung along full pipes.

Coming back here is like Indiana Jones in the snake pit: face to face with my greatest fears. I've written of being upset by time's rapid passing and my reluctant inability to make it slow down. I am both afraid of the future and of time's passing. I find myself in quite a conundrum.

My friend is in the hospital tonight in labor, her first child on the precipice. I am overwhelmed for her and envious all at the same time. Time is definitely not standing still for her.

Merry Christmas to you. May we find ourselves with the intelligence to live life fully, every day. May time not intimidate the best intentioned of us. May my friend have her baby soon, and a healthy baby at that. And may my grandfather be with us next year to sing another verse of "Auld Lang Syne."

Same Old, Same Dlo

Much like Mary must have felt traveling for days, nine months pregnant on the back of a mule, I made a ten hour journey today in the back of a Civic being driven by a Dlo. Today's journey was broken up by meals at not one but two diners and an impromptu visit with some dear old family, my mother's cousins. We just so happened to stop off the highway in the very town where they live to get a bite and my mother just so happened to direct us to a shopping center directly behind their house. Just so happened is highly suspect, but there you have it. Next thing you know we were climbing out of the car, heading up the walk to ring their bell. This was our second attempt. The first was aborted upon realizing we had the wrong house. Thank God - I can imagine the look on my mother's face, "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" trilling out of her mouth, as a stranger opened the front door. "Where is Cousin Johnny??" she'd sputter before the realization of our mistaken location came to her.

But there we were, gingerly climbing the path up to the front door, my father's "Oh look, they salted the walk for us!" an all too predictable joke that would surely be making another appearance for Cousin Johnny when he greeted us.

My mother's insistence that we weren't staying, weren't to take off our coats, only were going to say Merry Christmas and then be on our way was as realistic as a six foot tall leprechaun wearing a yarmulke and toe shoes. Our cousins insisted we come in and have coffee and dessert with them. Very old school. Very yummy, too: dessert was delightful Italian pastries; sfogliatella (yum!), cannoli (double yum!) and those multi-color mini-cake-slice cookies... I never was crazy for them though tonight, I could have been tempted. It was all enticing.

My mother, who earlier today announced in the car with some concession that she and my father were no longer Dlos In Training but Full-On Dlo (I consider it a gift in the spirit of the season that I didn't inform her they'd been Dlo for several years now), felt bad that we'd intruded on their dessert. It was obvious though that our unexpected visit was a deeply felt treat, a true gift of the season. Family is family. What ever happened to stopping by to say hello to the people you love?

Coats on, scarves tightened, we headed back to the Civic to resume our journey. "Thanks for salting the walk for us!" my father shouted back.

Same old, same old.

Thank You, Samuel Adams

Being with family has been better than I expected (though I'm reserving the decision to rescind my previous reservations until after I've seen my sister) but it sure makes for dull writing. Where's the wit in rocking your five year old nephew in your arms until his breathing becomes steady again after he cries his eyes out in the bathroom because his parents are out for the evening? No, no wit there. Just unbridled affection. He's a very tender boy.

So I thought I'd take this time to... to... look ahead to 2010? Reflect on how my kids have grown? Ponder the Middle East crisis?

Heck no. The kids are down. I'm having a beer.

One Will Be Just Fine

According to my horoscope, I will receive something special from someone I least expect today. I am super-psyched. Christmas isn't for another four days. That rules out Santa. And my family and I exchanged gifts last night, plus I was kind of expecting those presents, so it's probably not them either. This means I'm likely going to be meeting a stranger bearing gifts today. I can't believe it - my very own wiseman! Will it be frankincense, myrrh or diamonds?!

I will keep you posted. I have to cut this short - I need to shower; the mailman might be arriving soon. He could be the one!

Das Boot

I had the joy of going ice skating with my eight year old niece this afternoon. By ice skating with, I actually mean skating next to my niece while she clung to my arm and shuffled her feet. We were there about an hour and a half and I'm guessing the total number of loops we made on the ice where she was not touching me to be point-six. After about a half hour she spotted a friend with whom we did another couple of rounds, the most successful being when she held one hand with her friend and the other hand with me. And finally after a bit of whispering between them, I got the boot: she wanted to skate alone with her friend.

I adore my niece. She is my secret favorite of all of them. I'd do anything for her. So of course I said no problem, then skated off freely on my own, gliding across the ice while keeping a distant eye on the girls from across the rink. I didn't mind getting the boot; she seemed really happy to run into her friend there. And seeing my niece's face light up when I rejoined her to shuffle her off the ice at the end made me know she loves me for more than just my arm.