Giving Dankes

I know, I know. I’m the world’s most gigantic hypocrite. Just last week I was hemming and hawing about establishments rolling out the trees n’ tinsel before Halloween is even over.
And this week - get ready for it - I’m a Christmastime Convert.

Maybe it’s cause I just had to oust those in-your-face bags-o-decorations piled up, eyesore-style, on my floor. Or perhaps it was Monday’s fa-fa-fa-reeeeezing temps. But whatever the reason - GASP - I’ve stopped to smell the mistletoe (or started to, I should say).

You heard it here first! I shall be no Grinch. No Scrooge. No Bumble. No Professor Hinkle. Not me, not this year!

Ooookaaaaaay fine. Ya’lls know that Scrooge-free does NOT begin with me. And my Grinch-o-Meter definitely hasn’t plummeted to zero.

But let’s just say (sure, relish in judging the shit out of me), as I was putting ornaments on my mini-tree Monday night (isn’t it cute?), listening to Frank and Bing croon (and maybe a little Celine), my brand new XXXL heart melted and warmth oozed throughout my frigid body.

Thanksgiving is upon us, peeps. It’s here. And four weekends till Christmas, me oh me oh my!

And so for the (?) time in No Dankes! history, I’s gonna write something nice.
It’s Turkey Day so let’s all play pilgrims and GIVE THANKS!

(Here I pause. And pause. And pause some more. It’s interesting that I - and I fear I am not alone - can speak so freely about things that bother me, annoy me, piss me off, things that I detest...but when it comes to ponies and flowers and rainbows...well...I pause.)

Some time later...

I put on my thinking cap and came up with some thanks. Herewith, ladies and gentlemen, are things I am dankesful for.

There’s the majorly maaaaayjaaaaahly fantabulous things in my life - not to be trivialized one bit - but since they’re fairly obvi, I shall skipperoo through them: Tim, Tris, Timmy, my Morrell side & my Parry side (3 grandparents, 10 uncles, 12 aunts, 1 great-aunt, 24 cousins, 3 baby cousins-once-removed, 2 cousins-in-law...I don’t know the names for the rest), my best friends, my friends, my job, my health, our servicemen & women, the health of all of the aforementioned, the long life of my most beloved pet pooch, Cooper.


Life.

Yesterday I spent 4 1/2 hours in the emergency room at St. Vincent’s Hospital. I’ll NO Dankes! that experience next week, but it was jarringly (sur)real and not just a little shocking to be surrounding by such sickness. Old people, dying people, lonely people. Talk about de-press-ing.
I really think we all sometimes forget how fleeting all of this is.

Not to be macabre, but we need to remind ourselves that we’re mere mortals. That our entire lifetime is but a blink, a blip, in this ever-expanding, billions-of-years-old universe.
I devour classic literature (all Penguin, of course!) - and it’s quite astonishing to a 21st century reader to see how at ease our ancestors were with death.

This gravestone inscription (morbid, I know), really resonated with me: “As you are now so once was I, As I am now so shall you be.” Whoa.

I’m not trying to sound all preachy, but ’tis true. It’s so easy to forget how wonderful life is. To get so caught up in cattiness and bitterness and anger and disappointment and side-choosing and shit-talking and what-ifs. Just think about it.

And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.

Onward we go to the bright, light side of life’s more leisurely amenities that I am utmost thankful for. These include (but are not limited to) the following:
Indoor plumbing! We are so lucky. Bubble baths. Razors. High-pressure massaging shower heads. Hell, massages. Gooseneck sink spouts. Brita’s.

Flat-screen TVs. DVR (can you believe we used to watch VCR recorded VHS’s?) Almost all cable shows (and some network shows). Mad Men. Black and white movies - OMG, TCM! Hollywood glamour. Hollywood drama. Audrey, Ingrid, Grace, Marilyn, Kate & Gwyneth. Cary Grant, Paul Newman, James Stewart, Brad/Leo/Robert Pattinson/John Hamm. NETFLIX!

Computers. MacBooks!!!!!!!!!!! (Life changing.) iPods. (How did we live WITHOUT them?????) iPhones for that matter. Le Internet.
Whole Foods cold/hot food & dessert bar. Funfetti cupcakes. The fact that apples with peanut butter are considered “healthy”. Skor Bars. Peanut Butter Twix Bars. Joe’s Pizza. A really, really good sandwich comprised of no less than 15 ingredients. The World’s Best Latte (according to moi) from Third Rail Coffee - which happens to be right next to my apartamento. Rootbeer. Pumpkin beer. Wheat beer. Blueberry beer. Any beer. Vin rouge.

Books, books, omfg books! Tolstoy, Austen, Hardy, Steinbeck, the Brontë sisters, Gaskell, Dickens. Hosseini, Diaz, Chevalier, Shreve, McEwan, McCarthy, MEYER. amazon.com (though it’s nearly singlehandedly undermining the publishing industry).
Coconut everything: lip balm, cake, lotion, mmm macaroons, milk, rum, haystacks, rice, piña coladas, body spray, oil, shampoo.

Trains, planes, automobiles! Or, modes more apt to this city: subways, cabs, and my own two feet!

The City. My hometown in the NWC deserves some love, too: Sharon, CT. I’m so thankful I grew up there. The historic beauty - the clock tower, the town green, the gorgeous mansions. The trees and rolling hills and lakes and quietness and serenity and lushness.
I’m extra thankful for Sharon, actually. And so happy that I get to go home in just a few hours to my quaint country town - dankes Penguin for a 1:00pm closing! I cannot wait to spend time with my fam (wish you could be there, Timmy & Cass!), and friends.

And Cooper, my darling pup. I’m thankful for the 15 1/2 years we got to spend with you. I’ll miss bestowing your Thanksgiving Feast at those ridiculously well-behaved paws. We’ll all be thinking of you on this, your most favorite day of the year. Love and miss you so much, buddy.
Now I challenge you to give dankes. And I implore you: Take some time tomorrow to be in the moment, living. Don’t get all anxious about traffic, or being late, or eating so much you’ve gotta do the unbutton, or missing the kickoff, or burning the biscuits. Big deal. So what.

Appreciate what you have, remember how lucky we all are, and just be happy. Don’t sweat the small stuff, yo! Cause everybody’s clocks are ticking and that’s some pretty scary shit but we’re all in this together.
(Oh, and one last thing. I’m thankful for all of you who read this blog and for your support and enthusiasm and encouragement. It honestly does mean more than you know! Happy a safe, hearty, HAPPY Dankesgiving!!!)

What Was Your Name Again?

Now we all know that I’m über forgetful. But I am working on it. I’s taking me some B12 vitaminos and drinking some ginkgo bilbolabilobia whatever tea.

Alas, it seems I have an especially acute aversion to names.

People’s names, that is.

Oh yeah, all is well and good and I’m super smiley and polite and toss peeps a good handshake when I first meet them.
But something quite peculiar comes over me when they divulge their name. No matter how hard I try to listen, try to pay attention, try to memorize...my brain simply rejects names.
Picture an hourglass. To me, names are like them there grains of sand, passing on through. Slipping on by. In one side and right out the other.

Thomas.Carly.Emily.Michael.Sabrina.Justin.Trevor.Allison. Bye, bye!

It’s really pretty awful. I can.not.retain. I am retention-retarded. And it’s embarrassing.

The worst, the absolute positive worst is when I’m being introduced person by person to a big group. Oh this one and that one. I’m obviously polite. But there’s a secret I keep to my super snarky self: that gleaming smile I plaster on my face is so big and broad, not because I’m so very super friendly, but because I am laughing so hard at my ridiculous forgetfulness.
There’s nothing to do but laugh. It’s so goddamn hilarious! My nada-name-retention-retardation is so outrageously horrific, I can’t even remember names of characters on TV shows that I’ve been watching for years.
I’m a diseased person, I tell you. Diseased. My brain is putt-putting and petering our right before my very eyes - er, behind them I suppose.

I turn green with envy in the presence of people who remember names.

The waiter’s name? Yeah right.
The new coworker’s name? Ha.

The guy I woke up in bed next to? Fat chance.

(Just joshing! Oh it was Josh, duh!)

No but for reals. It is a full on disability. Why can’t people walk around with their names taped to their foreheads?

And yes, I do mean foreheads - while it may be convenient to pin or hang or tape your name to your chest, looking down to figure out someone’s name is a bit too obvious. And not just a little insulting.

Either that or I need some sort of computer chip installed in my head - one that registers faces and sends a signal to my brain, à la Morse code, to remind me of the person’s name.

Oh I don’t know what’s worse - forgetting someone’s name or calling them by a wrong name.

I suppose they’re equally bad - at least for me. Cause either way, if you tell me your name, I shall undoubtedly, 100%, without fail be counted upon to forget it.

“Trick” Indeed

Maybe it’s just that I’m getting up there in years, that I’m so far removed from anything “kid”. I mean, I have been an “adult” for quite some time now. Kinda. (Kelly and I carved that cute little owl pumpkin!)

But seriously, what has happened to Halloween? Where did it go?
It’s become such a manufactured holiday. Like every single other holiday out there, it has been engineered to make money for candy (and costume) corporations. But it’s also become synonymous with “slutty” - a day fully dedicated to socially acceptable skanks. So sad.

Everyone jokes how it’s the one day a year that it’s actually OK (and legal) to dress like a prostitute, but I find the dime-a-dozen minidress-donning French maids, flight attendants, nurses/cops/Playboy bunnies/cats and witches so boring. So unoriginal. So annoying.

Has my memory once again left me high and dry? Perhaps. But I don’t recall such “sexy” costumes being a staple of yesteryear Halloweens.

Maybe it’s New York that’s done it to me. It’s sad to see kids trick-or-treating at restaurants and coffee shops and retail stores! My Aunt Meg used to march us kids all over Danbury. Our legs would be screaming in agony from walking, our arms numb from carrying so much candy, but it was so exciting, such a good time.

Even when I was a teenager, my friends and I would have tons-o-good, clean fun! Yes, it involved some shaving cream, fine. But it was 97% innocent.

Me and my pals have always been clever costumers. We put our imagination into our outfits - along with our blood, sweat, and tears. Take college, for instance, when we dressed up as a homemade six-pack of Bud Light. We cut the material, stenciled on the logo, and colored it in. A-maz-ing.

You really just don’t see that these days. Now it’s just all-slut-all-the-time. It’s not “Oh let me spend some time thinking about what I want to be.” It’s, oh let me just go into this Halloween Super Store and pick out the most bootylicious-service-provider outfit POSSIBLE!

Where is the Halloween love? The desire to don something clever and crafty, something you won’t see on 67 other people that night.

Don’t get me wrong - of course I’ve showed a little leg and painted on thick mask of makeup on All Hallow’s Eve . I’m just saying be more original about it. Preserve the integrity of the holiday, people. Don’t buy a bagged costume, buy a dress on EBay and make your costume around it, like I did this year.

Well, I can’t really take credit for the idea - we were Super Mario Land at work (the winning department!), so I just recycled my Princess Peach costume. But it was original - that dress was definitely a one-of-a-kind from the 80s.

But my smartypants friends actually made their costumes. Take for instance: Ri and Katie Leo as Dominoes, Jared and Mike as Tetris pieces, Burke as a Rockette, Kelly as Holly Golightly, Michelle as Taylor Swift (on the weekend).

It was so refreshing to be at a party where so many people put so much thought and time into their costumes. Bravo!

I don’t know, I guess I’m just disappointed in the commercialism of Halloween, the way it has become. It used to be so pure and fun, like Hocus Pocus.

Now it’s nada but hussies and harlots, “tricks” if you will, walking the streets on October 31st. (With a side of mellowcreme stomachaches and skull funnel headaches.)