The Accidental Altar

I was unpacking a box of tchotchkes a couple of weeks ago, and I ended up arranging my favorites on the only empty flat surface in my entire room-- my dresser.  It wasn't until a few days later that I realized that it's got the vibe of an altar.

Starting at the top left, there is a picture of my brother and sister-in-law.  (I fuzzed out their faces because I don't have their permission to post a picture of them on the internet.  As far as I know, they don't even know I have this blog.)  In the middle is Flower Annie, my Wee Peeple doll, made by the wonderful Kandra Niagra.  Isn't she beautiful?  I love Wee Peeple dolls.  They have such personality and energy.

Next to Annie is a drawing I made when I was about 10.  We'd just moved to Texas for the first time, and it was the Sesquicentennial.  (150 years of Texas statehood.)  I was the new Yankee girl, but they liked it so much that it was framed and posted in the hall at my middle school for years.  I'm not sure how my parents got a hold of it, but they put it on the wall in the yellow guest bedroom in Massachusetts (which was briefly my bedroom).  I think because the frame is yellow, so it matched the room.

Coming around the corner, there is a little pixie box I've had since I was a little girl.  It's sitting in a wooden bowl that my dad carved.  I'm not sure why it's sitting in the bowl, but when I took it out it didn't look right to me, so back in it went.  Next to the pixie box is a large shell I got once on a trip to the beach in Galveston.  The beach is kind of a special place to me.  (I'm a Scorpio.  That's a water sign, so I guess that makes sense.)    I always feel more relaxed at the beach.  Like I can exhale.  All my muscles unknot and I sleep better.  If I ever win the lottery I'm buying a house on the beach.

In front of the pixie box there's a crystal that I love.  When I did have an official altar I used it to represent the energy of the God.  There's also a pretty little shell that I found once walking on the beach.  In the bottom right corner is a little dish given to me by a friend.  She used to read cards at the Texas Renaissance Festival, and she used the dish as a tip jar.  I know you can't tell from the picture, but it has suns and moons and stars all around the edge.  In the dish is the fortune I got in my fortune cookie when we had Chinese food New Year's Eve.  It says, "A new romance is in the future."  I'd say that's pretty accurate, since a romance novel that I'd pre-ordered downloaded to my Kindle on January 1st.

Next to the bowl is a plastic canvas coaster I made for my parents.  Their living room in Massachusetts was painted barn red and tan, with black accents.  I made about a dozen of them in different quilt block designs, and I made that one, with a black cat on it, to represent my cat, Trouble.  Mom and Dad love him to bits, and Mom calls him her grandson, so I thought they'd like it.  I stole that one in Massachusetts so that I had something to put my sweating drinks on in my bedroom.  Somehow it never got put back with the rest of the coasters when we packed.

In the center, in front of Flower Annie, is a little frame that used to sit on my grandfather's nightstand.  On the left side there's a picture of my mom as a little girl in her Girl Scout uniform.  (You can't really see it because of the glare.)  We looked so much alike at that age, that I asked my granddad once when that picture was taken, because I didn't remember doing it.  I thought it was me.  There used to be a little picture of her brother, my Uncle George, tucked in there, too, but it slipped out.  It's probably still in the box the frame was packed in for the move.  I need to look around for it, because I don't want to lose it.  On the other side is a picture of my grandmother and grandfather.  I can see that picture from my bed, and it makes me happy to be able to look at them.

In front of the frame is my mascot, Super Becky.  When I was a freshman in college I went into a Hallmark store around Halloween, and I spotted these cute little miniatures.  My roommate and best friend is a huge fan of dragons, and I found a puppy in a dragon costume for her.  For me I found a bunny in a super hero costume, with a capital B on his chest.  I immediately knew his name was Super Becky.  (Don't ask me why Super Becky is male.  It makes no sense.  But it is what it is.)  I don't know how I managed to hang on to Super Becky for almost 20 years now without losing him.  As you can see, he's pretty small.  But I have.

Moving on to the left, there's a pretty little porcelain box that I got as a favor at a birthday party when I was in elementary school.  It's got a butterfly on top and my name written in liquid gold on the front.  I always thought it was the coolest thing.  Next to that there is an old-style Weeble Wobble.  I was at my grandparents house one day, and I decided to give it to Grandmom.  She was so touched that I gave her one of my toys that she kept it forever after on display in her china cabinet with all her other treasures.  I never had the heart to tell her that my 5 year-old self decided that he was the grumpy one, and I didn't want him any more.  It kind of makes me laugh now.  I still think of him as the grumpy one!

The stack of stones in the bottom left corner is something that my brother collected.  I'm not sure why I kept them (I found them on the bookshelf in my room in Massachusetts), but they seem to fit there.  Behind the stones is a little angel that Mom used to put out as a Christmas decoration in my room every year.  I loved to play with her.  One year I kept her, and she lived on a shelf in my apartment in Houston.

Behind the angel is another item that was always on display at my grandmother's house.  I think I mentioned a while back that she was a professional church soloist in Philadelphia.  As you may be able to tell from the little photo that lived on my grandfather's nightstand, Grandmom was also a sizable woman.  This figure looked so much like her that her coworkers gave it to her as a gift when she retired.  I love having this little piece of my grandmother on my dresser.

And the last figure is pretty well obscured by glare, but she is the little statue I used to represent Goddess on my altar.  Here is a site that has a picture of the collection she came from.  The name of the figure is Devotion, and she's just about exactly in the center of the page.  You may notice that the whole collection is a bit, um, Georgia O'Keefe, but I like them.  You can't see it, but there's another little shell at her feet.

And that is my accidental altar.  Little bits and pieces of family and history and places that are important to me.

Big, scary day

Today I had an adventure.  I borrowed my dad's car keys and left the house by myself.  It's the first time I've gone anywhere by myself since Labor Day weekend, when I drove to the airport in Houston and got on the plane.  It's only the second time I've been behind the wheel since then.

It was pretty damn scary at first.  Almost three months is a long time to go without driving on doing anything independently.  I was way out of practice.  The fact that I was driving someone else's car didn't help.  (My car is long gone.  sniffle.)

Mom was in a foul mood this morning, and apparently all day yesterday, too.  (I missed yesterday.  After all the company and Thanksgiving hoopla, I declared Sunday an I'm In My Room, Leave Me Alone day.)  She was upset because she thought she would have all the house done, and there are still boxes everywhere, and she can't find her Christmas stuff, and she was MAD.  So while the 'rents went to the Social Security office to get stuff straightened out, I went shopping.

The two things she specifically mentioned were her Christmas mugs, which she always puts out first thing and are very important to her, and the Advent wreath.  I found some cheap mugs at Michael's, so I was able to take care of that, but the Advent wreath was a bust. 

Michael's had undecorated, do-it-yourself Advent wreathes for a while, but they were sold out when I got there.  And they had one pre-decorated one, but it was way over the top and fugly.  The whole things was covered with purple flowers and white things crusted with glitter.  She would have appreciated the thought (and she damn well better if I'm spending 25 bucks for the ugly thing), but she'd rather die than have something that over done and ugly on her table.

I went to four other places-- four!-- and none of them had ever heard of an Advent wreath.  Even Hobby Lobby, which is Christianville USA, didn't have them or know what they were .  I was beginning to feel like a freak.  I'm not the only one in the world, aside from Michael's Happy Glue Gun Lady, who knows what these things are, right?

One of these puppies.  Light a candle every Sunday in Advent.  You've seen these, right?  I know a lot of people don't go in for the religious aspect of Christmas.  I can't say I worry about it too much myself.  But I grew up with one of these on my table for as far back as I can remember.  My family can't be total weirdos.  There have to be Advent wreaths out there somewhere.  It's just so bizarre to me that I spoke to at least 7 people in 4 different stores, stores that carry all kinds of Christmas decorations and people who work in and stock those departments, and not a one of them even knew what an it was.  Very strange.  I knew that Indiana was the Twilight Zone, but come on.

Anyway, even though I couldn't lay my hands on a non-fugly Advent wreath, I did find a few other Christmassy things to brighten up the place.  One was a small pillow that says "Those who don't believe get underwear."  I was highly amused and had to have it right away.  The fact that it was on sale helped. I got a magnet with a snowman on it that says "snow".  (I collect magnets, so it's always exciting to find a new one.)  And I bought a set of blocks that spell out the word "joy".  Mom has a set of acrobatic elves that spell "Joy" that she always puts on the piano.  My brother and I delight in scrambling them, so that they say "oyj" instead.  One year I hid the J, so it just said "oy!", which I found highly amusing.  So I took the blocks and put them on the piano, out of order, of course.  So far Mom has noticed the mugs, which she couldn't help but notice since I put one at her place at the table, and the pillow, which she also couldn't help but notice because it was on the couch right where she planned to sit.  No one has noticed the magnet or the blocks yet.

The weather is supposed to be cold and crappy for the next several days (plus I totally wore myself out shopping and will need a couple of days of rest to recover), so I think that's all the stealth decorating for a little while.  I may call Michael's and see if a new shipment of the undecorated Advent wreaths have come in.  If they have, I may pick up one of their decorated wreaths for the front door, too.  There was one there that I liked.  And maybe I'll get a fake poinsettia, if I can find one that's bushy enough.  (Not a real one if I can avoid it-- they're poisonous to cats, and Trouble is dumb enough to eat the whole damn thing.)

This place may start to look a lot like Christmas, whether Mom finds any of her decorations or not!

Temper Tantrum

I'd like to think this isn't a temper tantrum.  More like a frustration flail.  Even if I'm not stomping my feet and generally acting like a 12 year old, I *want* to, which makes me feel just as bad.

Last night Mom and Dad came back from their house hunting trip.  They've put in an offer and everything seems to be going smoothly so far.  They showed me pictures that they took on a second walk through, and a sketch of the layout that my brother did, including dimensions on all the rooms.

Here's where the problem comes in.  I hadn't said much about what I wanted this house to be.  Even though both Mom and Dad keep saying "this is your house, too.  You have a say," I don't feel that way.  It's their money, they're the ones who picked it out, it's their house.  Mom called from the house hunt in a moment of frustration.  Everything they'd looked at was either too small, too expensive, or for some other very practical reason wouldn't work for us.  I told her not to worry about me.  The only thing I really wants was some living space of my own.  A great room, a den, an extra bedroom, whatever.  I just wanted some space other than my bedroom that I could relax in.  Some place I can watch the TV shows that I love and they aren't interested in.  Somewhere I can read or knit or play my Wii.  Some place I can have guests when/if I meet new people and would like to invite them over.

The new house seemed to fit the bill.  There's a living room in the center of the house and a smaller bonus room off the kitchen.  The bonus room has the added benefit of being on the opposite side of the house from the bedrooms, so I won't keep anyone up watching a movie or whatever.  Perfect, right?  Yeah, except they've already decided to put my couch in the living room with their comfy chairs and the new TV.  Mom has been referring to my bonus room as "the keeping room" and is making plans to set it up as some sort of library/sitting room extension of the kitchen.  So that means that my portion of "my" house is a 10x12 corner bedroom.  And by the way, that room will be furnished with all the crap they don't have any other room for, but can't bear to part with.  Yeah.  My room.

I know I need to stop fuming like a teenager and sit down and talk to them about all this.  And I know this move is hard for them.  Between two floors of living space, an attic, and the basement, they have approximately 4,000 square feet of junk.  The new house is 1,800 square feet with no attic or basement.  Everyone acknowledges that they need to let go of a ton of stuff, but no one is doing anything about it yet.  I just went through this myself.  I had to be brutal.  And believe me, at this moment I'm glad I was, because there really is no room for me in this house they're buying for all of us.

Light Me Up!

It's getting down to the end, which is a good thing since I think I ran out of rope yesterday.  I need thoughts or prayers or vibes or whatever you happen to do.  This moving business isn't pretty.  I shipped a bunch of boxes this morning and then this afternoon I sold the car.  I was expecting to cry on the way back to the apartment, but nothing so far.  Then again, I got some excellent financial news earlier this week (not the Social Security yet-- looks like that's going to take some more fighting), and I think my response was, "OK."  I'm just so overwhelmed, so tired, in so much physical pain, that there's no room for anything else.

Also this morning, I drove a 12 ft moving truck for the first time.  Yay me!  I felt very grown up for getting it from the rental place to my apartment about 2 miles away without causing any property damage or killing anyone.  If I never have to do that ever again it will be perfectly all right with me.  But now that I've done it once, I know I can do it again if I have to.  Good knowledge to have.

Tomorrow morning first thing the movers come to put all the stuff in the truck.  Then I have a handful of minor errands to run, and then in the afternoon I can check in at the hotel.  Keep your fingers crossed that I make it that long.  I want to get to the hotel, take a shower (the shower thing is particularly important to me at this moment, because I'm sweaty and grubby and I know I will be again by then), and then I want to just chill out and maybe take a nap for a while.  Tomorrow evening I pick up my brother and his friend at the airport.  Get a good night's sleep (I hope).  And Saturday morning I get up, pick up the cat at the vet's, and head to the airport for my own flight.  I'm fantasizing about the moment when I get through security and I can buy myself a bottled water and take a pain pill.  That sounds bad.  But right now I hurt.  And I can't take a pain pill because they make me too fuzzy to drive safely.  So I just keep slogging and thinking about that pill.  I'm going to sit on that airplane-- first class, of course, because that's how I roll-- open my copy of Maybe This Time that I've been saving for the flight, and then probably fall fast asleep.

As long as I can make it that far.

Edit: Starting at midnight tonight I'll be going radio silent for about 48 hours or so.  It's the move-- no internet access.  But I'll be back in a few days to tell you how it all went and how many chapters of MTT I managed to read before the drooling and snoring started.  (That's not a slam on Jenny's books.  If they were dull I wouldn't read them.  It's just a measure of how completely exhausted I am.)  So anyway, back in a few, with less boring moving stories and maybe even a review or two!

Baby Hats! And then it gets depressing.

The other day I mentioned the baby hats I've been knitting, and I've finally gotten around to taking a picture.  They're cute, if I must say so myself!

I didn't have 5 little baby heads sitting around the house to display them (um, ew), so I searched the pantry and found 5 cans instead.  Not the perfect option, but it works.  In the background you can see my empty bookshelf, except for a small stack of stuff that still needs to go to Half Price Books.  I'll get to it this week.

I've made a lot of progress, although there's always more to do.  As of this morning I have an airline ticket for Sept. 4th.  My brother is coming down to drive my car to Indianapolis, and I'm flying to Massachusetts.  In 18 days I won't live here any more.  I emailed my best friend, and she and the baby are going to meet me for lunch next week.  I've been so frantically busy these last couple of weeks that I've been able to totally ignore what all that frantic busy-ness was for.  I'm leaving my home.  I've been teary for a good part of the day.  I think I just need to put on a really sad movie and get it over with.  I know I've been joking that the plan was to keep it together until everything is done and then fall apart spectacularly.  I'm beginning to worry that the spectacular even might occur while I'm sitting at the airport, waiting to get on the plane.  Or even worse, on the plane.  I think maybe it's time to stop being so tough about this.  Airport officials get nervous these days when a passenger bursts out in hysterics, even if said passenger has a good reason for the hysterics.