Mon, 10 Dec 2007 20:21:28 -0800
December, for whatever reason, is always a battle -- at best, a series of small victories; at worst, a close second to April for "cruelest month." People load holiday stressors upon the usual ones; suddenly, there's a lot of stuff to have the perfect outfit, gift, or changelist for. (The latter is of course an artifact of me being new on my team at work, and drinking from the biggest firehose I've probably encountered to date here; but, given that it's coincident, it means there's just lots going on.) I looked up last Monday and realized that not only did I lack an outfit to wear to the company holiday party on Friday, but I had zero time between now and then to shop for one. No matter, as it turned out -- I pulled something together out of bits in my closet, dug up my fire-engine-red lipstick, managed to coerce my hair into an intentionally messy partial up-do, and looked hot without the purchase of a couture dress -- but it was a bit hard to remember that concentrated shopping was not necessary this time 'round, given the effort I'd put into last year's outfit. I wore flats, to the great relief of the still-aching ball of my right foot (must ... call ... acupuncturist); I had pockets! (I need to plan more outfits around those two parameters.) And I did exactly what I love doing at these outrageous parties: pranced around chatting with old teammates, managers, and friends; meeting new ones; having a few people recognize me from my presence on internal mailing lists. We were even bussed straight back to the lower Haight, where we squeaked in under the wire of last call, and culminated the night. A successful evening.
I think the key for this month may be to let some things go, or at least to forgo strict adherence to the order of my to-do list. The manicure was supposed to happen before the party, but instead I found time for my talons to be shellacked bright rouge (and the patience to not ruin the paint before it set!) only in time for Eddie's holiday shindig the following night, rife with (unlike the last house party I went to) people well worth talking to, butternut-squash-and-sage bruschetta, even a new cocktail. Worth the belated manicure.
Good people abound: The brother of a new friend with whom I've been having at lunch; a new coworker with an impish smile I could swear was Chuck (M.)'s; new friends at the holiday party.
And, lest the reader begin to think that these weeks have been nothing but parties and primping, let me assure them that there have been daylight activities as well: Mike & I took his motorcycle out yesterday, to brunch and accomplishing some holiday shopping goals; two tiny kittens rappelled up the denim of my jeans and then cuddled in my lap at Malcolm's over fresh pizza last night. And, oh yes, there's that new-team-at-work thing, which has left my brain so overloaded that all I really feel capable of doing, as soon as this paragraph ends, is staring at my screensaver, or out the shuttle window into the blackness of the 101.