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01/19/05 09:48:44 pm
CRAP!!!! I finally get my lazy ass down in front of the computer and get back to work on this site, and what happens? I'll tell you. Now I can't get my FTP software to work so that I can update the damned site. I am really frustrated here. I have no idea what the problem is or why it isn't working. I am playing around with it and hopefully I will get it fixed soon.
In the meantime, I am going to continue to put together journal entries. Maybe that will help keep a fire under my ass to work on this site. Maybe knowing that I can't get this stuff on-line yet will kill some of the block that I've had. This anger about not being able to update the site is starting to feel good.
Enough with the complaining about my Internet and computer issues.
Outside of Sundance dying, Christmas and New Year's didn't go too badly. I went over to my parents' house for Christmas Eve. Since there was no dog to go home and let out, I ended up spending the night and stayed through dinner. In a way, it cheered me up a bit. It was just the three of us, just like it always was ( except when Walter was around). The tree was up. Even though I have moved out, my mom still insists on a real tree. She says that it wouldn't be Christmas without one. It reminds her of when she was a kid. It's filled with ornaments that she's collected over the years. Mom was pretty pissed though; none of her lights worked when she went to put up the tree. So Dad had to go out and buy all new ones. He bought those old-fashioned ceramic lights with the big bulbs. Granted, there weren't as many lights on the tree ( and Mom had to skip the tinsel and garland since the lights get so hot). Still it was warm, inviting. Sitting alone in the living room on Christmas Eve (half drunk), with no light except the tree, was almost magical.
Spring, with all the new growth out doors, reminds us of the miracle of life. Christmas does something similar. Instead of reminding us of the miracle of life, it reminds us of the magic of it. The way a few lights, decorations, and tree planted on the carpet, ludicrous as it seems , can totally change the way a home feels. The smells of food, fires, and incense bring back memories of our childhoods. Some good, some not so much so. But it evokes emotions nonetheless.
At the same time, for those of us that celebrate and believe in Christmas, there is something about it that make us want to reach out to each other. On the one hand we want to just sit there and enjoy the day, the holiday, with friends and family. On the other we don't want to see or hear about anyone left out in the cold ( literally or figuratively). The idea that someone might be spending Christmas alone, pulls at our heartstrings. The idea, the hope, that everyone should have a place to go is part of our collective conscience. If we haven't done a little bit to share and spread the Christmas spirit, we feel guilty.
So, as I sat there sipping away at some bourbon, I wondered where Sundance was. Was he in heaven? I hope so. My parents got him a huge raw hide bone each year. While we sat and opened gifts, he lay there in front of the tree, wrestling with the bone, chewing away, completely oblivious to the rest of us. We felt good. We did what we could to make each other feel happy. We definitely made him feel happy.
When Walter was around (before Sundance), things hadn't always gone quite so well. Although, in whatever life he had before Jerry and I brought him back, he must have known Christmas, it took a while for it to sink in. The first year, we all just assumed he knew what it was. The decorations, the presents, going to mass. But he hadn't a clue. I can't remember any of the gifts we got him that year. All that I remember was that he sat there staring at the wrapping paper, not realizing that the shiny paper and ribbons were not the gifts, but that the gifts were inside. We finally got him to unwrap them. Instead of the child like surprise and joy that we tend to correlate with opening Christmas gifts, it was just blankness. It was rough. It was crushing.
The second Christmas went better. And each after that. I had more time to explain the holiday. He had more time to soak it up.
So I sat there, in my chair missing my two best friends. And wondering how they were spending Christmas. Wondering if they were out there in the cold. Wondering if they were alone.