Ella Amitay-Sadovsky, Flower arrangement

Family Tradition

Thanks to not answering my phone for the last two weeks, this holiday season has proved itself to be the least stressful in recent history. My mother, as everyone knows, is unparalleled in her ability to make a even Buddhist monk develop an ulcer.

I have felt successful in that i have skirted many typical holiday duties this December. I was not forced to watch a "Muppet Christmas Carol" while decorating the tree. I was not guilted into driving 3 hours away for "Ethnic Christmas". I didn't have to clean or put up lights at my Grandma Butler's house. And I am nearly positive no one is going to make me read aloud Nephew Fred's "God bless it" speech at the dinner table.

I find myself being frustrated with my mother, thinking that she is a bit of a fuddy-duddy, insisting upon reprising the dance we've done for 28 years. Not because the traditions themselves are fun and rich with the memory of years past, but because being catholic is something that causes her to flog us with a myriad of senseless traditions akin to her beloved (and punishing) 2 hour mass.

Growing up, i had often boasted of the fact that my family had fun and off-the-wall Christmas rituals. "Ethnic Christmas" being one of them. It began two years before i was born. Out of boredom, creative zest or simply because their pockets were empty, the Kraft family decided that spaghetti would be served in lieu of a christmas bird. The next year the tradition was dubbed "Italian christmas" and the following year it was decided upon that we would celebrate the food and traditions of a new country. And thus ethnic Christmas was born. (Later to devolve entirely into a wacky costumes, politically incorrect interpretations of culture and family drunkenness.)

Looking back, i miss this kind of thing. And i have to wonder that if a quiet afternoon spent in my apartment, watching netflix and drinking coffee, is really better than the time spent butchering the holiday traditions of other countries with my family. I have to say, I'm not sure.

One final tradition of the holiday season is the reading of "A Christmas Memory" by Truman Capote. The reading is done in the family mini-van on the way to my Grandma Kraft's house just before or after Christmas Day. Typically there is a good bit of snow dusting the pine and Christmas music plays in the background as we drive. My brother sleeps, his huge body taking up the length of the van. My sister grimaces while my mother reads to show her displeasure with an act so maudlin. (She still cries every time.) My father drives and from time to time, wipes a tear from his eye. (He has gotten soft now that his children have grown.) And my mother and I unabashedly weep like children. Who can maintain a stiff upper lip when there is 'a leafless, birdless coming of winter" or when "a lost pair of kites hurry towards heaven"?

This year we will not be driving to my Grandmother's house, as she has sold it and moved to a more manageable condo.

There is a good chance "Christmas Memory" will not be read this year. A staple of our family culture. Part of the old dance we've always done. A senseless act used to punish us all and bring us some false sense of togetherness.

I will surely miss it. What a fuddy-duddy I have become.

adventure anxiety

my sports blog

often accused as a johnny-come-lately, i have been the victim of much ridicule for becoming a soccer fan this summer. it's true, i hate sports. i have always hated sports. i find football to be tedious and slow. run a couple yards, fall down, talk about it for 13 minutes, repeat. it's not my thing.
baseball is even worse. kate, chris and i went to a clippers game this week in search of epic piles of cheap ass hot dogs to discover that mid-game people stop to PLAY CATCH in the outfield. we're like, "hurry this the fuck up". (granted, people dressed in hot dog costumes flying through the air and punching one another in their big plastic eyeballs is exceptionally entertaining)
but when i found out there was a sport in which people run at full tilt for 45 minutes, let you pound beer for 15 minutes, then return for another uninterrupted 45 minutes of running at full tilt, i got on board. i have the attention span of a 4 year old, so this seemed like a good fit for me.
additionally, soccer fans are nerds. there is no disputing this. they like ren-faire, dungeons and dragons, have tattoos and silly hair and they love to paint ridiculous and creative banners. needless to say, i relate to this bunch more than i relate to say...


these people.
chris and i will be traveling quite a bit this fall to see the crew for away games. i'd say it's as good a reason as any to see chicago, dc and toronto in the fall.

you know me, i'd be a part of any club that would have me as a member.

yeasayer

fuck. this was good. it was really good. any show that can capture my attention for more than four songs is doing a fucking stand up job.
pete, the music writer guy who is friends with kate, was standing next to us at the show. he said he just saw them at pitchfork and they changed his life. he said he had a moment of self-actualization during their show. lolz.
the sound is something super epic.
something like an 80's prom dream where you run out of the gym doors with a ripped pink dress and mascara running down your cheeks.
that's what it sounds like to me at least.
a bit duran duran meets paul simon's "graceland"
made my week.

loving this

"I saw my belly's electric red hair
toward my breasts, feathered bird,
And I laughed.
I saw humanity vomit in a shaky church basin
And I did not listen to my heart.
I saw a camel dressed and leaving for Mecca
Without the thousand and one sand vendors and the scaly
Of the black crowds.
But I could not go with them
Laziness had reduced the better part of my fervor
And routine had retrieved the dislocated
Dance of the big toe."
Joyce Mansour

peter pan syndrome

i just want to work at exactly the times i want to work! is that so much to ask!
maybe not.

each day here i get a little bit closer to freelance.
i really like the idea of being my own boss but i also see how that can entail quite a bit more work that this. taxes and health insurance being gigantic pains in the ass.
it is a little bit nice to not think about anything, drive to the same place at the same time everyday and have people tell you were you're going to go. not bad at all.
so i guess i will be making my third pros and cons list of the week. somehow they just manage to make me more frustrated. but i like lists.

it's summer again. and i have still managed to temporarily suspend every notion that i am an adult. somehow, every year at this time, i expect work to let out.
"see you guys in the fall. have an awesome summer! call me!"
i am still wondering why i am not running through the sprinkler right now. instead i am buttoned into a very scratchy, coco channel rip off staring at the glowing rectangle and answering stupid phone calls.
everyone with half a heart has peter pan syndrome.
it's just harder to deal with when it's this sweet outside.