Here Comes Santa Claus

My house is a wreck. I've been working on Christmas presents so there's stuff EVERYWHERE. Balls of yarn piled up in a bag by the couch, pens, paint and paper spread out on the coffee table, clothes from the last three weekends I've spent out of town all over the floor, etc.

It looks like a tornado ripped through my lovely, neat apartment (see last weeks pictures)-- albeit a festive tornado. Money's tight this year, so Christmas presents mean lots of homemade things and lots of work on my part in the 18 days I have left. I'm looking forward to spending some time with my family. I spent thanksgiving with M's family and as great and welcoming as they are, as much a part of their family as I feel, it doesn't mean I don't miss MY family.

Sometimes when my mom throws passive aggressive remarks my way about not moving back home, I think, "Are you listening to this conversation, I'm good. Thanks." Other times, I think "Mom, I miss you so much, I hate that I moved so far away and can't see you whenever I want, don't you know that?" Thus is the nature of our relationship. It's not so different from others I've heard. We try to protect each other, that's what family does. It can be frustrating. Love can be frustrating.

And on that note, here comes Christmas. It Arrives with boughs of holly and silver bells. (And often leaves with a feeling I can only imagine is similar to being run over by a reindeer.) In two weeks I'll be picking up my family at the airport and they'll see my new city as my city for the first time. I should probably start picking up my messy apartment.