I am good at some things but not others

Oh, you guys said some lovely things about my sketch-paintings. Thank you! My heart is warmed. Now I have Hot Heart Syndrome. The doctor said I'll be okay, as long as I'm not startled or upset, ever.

So listen, I would love to illustrate whatever, but I can't draw anything that isn't right in front of me. This is my terrible secret. Seriously, I have no visual memory. I can't even really picture what an elephant looks like right now, much less draw it. (It's gray! And…and looks like a briefcase! Wait, no, that's wrong. Four Ionic columns and a cloud?!) If I were to illustrate, I'd need to see everything I needed to represent. This could get tricky for, say, a children's book. "Listen, I'm glad you want me to illustrate Mr. Wubs and the Tricky Mubbles, but unless you get them all to my apartment and force them to stand still, I really can't do business with you. Yes, the Mubbles too. I understand they're tricky. Not my problem."

The End.

Changing the subject awkwardly: On Christmas day, my parents gave me a pair of warm mittens. They are adorable, in addition to being warm. (It was not the only gift from them. My parents are nothing if not overly generous.)

ANYWAY, after we were done gifting, my mom said, "By the way, the mittens came with a hat, but I think there's something wrong with it." She showed me the hat, which appeared to be perfectly acceptable and something I would happily place on my head.

But then I tried it on:

"You see?" she said. "I don't know why it looks so goofy."
"I can't see," I said. "I'm so confused. Everything is dark. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME." I stumbled around and my mom laughed a whole lot. I suspect this was a Christmas gift to her.

And then my sister walked in and said, "Yeah, you have it on backwards. Also, don't tie it, oh my god."

RIGHT.

This reminded me of this one summer in college when I worked as a bank teller, and I was terrible at it, just awful, and a fellow teller said to me, helpfully, "There are different kinds of smarts. You have book smarts. You just don't have…life smarts."

It took me this long to discover that I also don't have hat smarts. At least in this case I can blame my mom.

2012!

Happy new year! Did you all have a good Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Druidic solstice ritual? Anyone burn a Wicker Man? It's okay. I won't judge your insane pagan rituals.

We sure as hell had a good time. We hosted a Christmas brunch for my immediate family, somehow managing to cram the whole clan into our space-challenged living room. (Note to myself: become a millionaire, purchase luxurious townhouse. Maybe a resolution for 2012?) Both my nephews couldn't join us, and they sent me regretful emails and I was all THAT'S FINE OKAY BYE NOW because listen they take up a lot of space.

It wasn't my idea for them both to grow up so tall and musclebound.

Henry had an amazing day despite his cold, but the good news is he managed to transmit the virus to both myself and Scott. I was feeling pretty smug about how healthy I've been since adopting the Paleo lifestyle, so obviously the Lord (working through my Only Son) smote me. He does stuff like that when it's his birthday.

Last week we did nothing and it was pretty much the best thing ever even though my throat hurt and I whined a bunch. I have no problem sleeping until noon and not ever getting out of my pajamas--I mean LOUNGEWEAR. Note to self: become reclusive millionaire.

One of my gifts this year was An Illustrated Life: Drawing Inspiration from the Private Sketchbooks of Artists, Illustrators and Designers. I like to draw and sketch and whatnot, but I haven't made it a priority because it seems to take over my brain. Once I start I have a very hard time wanting to do anything else, like acknowledging my family, or showering. So yes, I avoid it because I love it too much. That makes sense.

But this book, you guys. This book inspired me like no one's business. I got out a sketchbook and my watercolor set and brushes, and I went to town. "Town" being my living room, where I sketched everything around me.

This is pretty much all I did all week. I've missed it SO DAMN MUCH.

I did go outside once, where I sketched my dog peeing. It was a moment crying out to be captured!

I'm now so in love with this daily sketch habit that I decided I was going to start a WHOLE NEW BLOG and POST MY DAILY SKETCHES ON IT and etc etc ALL CAPS BIG IDEAS. But then the coffee wore off and it occurred to me maybe not to make this a big-deal project but instead just enjoy myself. And occasionally share my sketches with you! I like you.

Merry Christmas

We're ready.

Every last gift is wrapped.

Charlie has on his Christmas collar.

Henry is down with a cold. A marathon afternoon of Futurama was the only thing keeping him conscious all afternoon.

Charlie was concerned. Or sleepy. It's hard to tell which.

During dinner we watched Scrooged, which may very well become a holiday tradition around here. Henry was a fan.

I suggested we put a plate out for Santa, and I thought Henry was going to scoff at the idea--he's a BIG KID, you guys. But then he said he'd write a letter, too. It's pretty great.

(Okay, we're ready in every way except for not having an unbroken cookie in the house. We're hoping the chocolate makes up for it.)

We hope you all have a joyous Christmas. I'm so thankful to all of you for reading and commenting. You've changed my life, truly.

Hallelujah!

My folks recently moved from their spacious suburban home to an apartment in a nearby borough. Because they were streamlining their life, they could no longer store my boxes of crap. "Dearest," they inquired, "would you please haul off all this bullshit you've collected over the years?" Of course I obeyed, because I honor my mother and father.

While sifting through boxes of embarrassing photos and scrapbooks, I came across this missal I had received as a gift on my First Holy Communion.

Here I am on that day:

I haven't removed the veil since.

This is clearly a missal meant for youngsters, so that they may be instructed on how Mass works and not suffer an attack of the conniptions when the priest announces that he's about to feed the congregation the body and blood of a human being.

Here's the missal:

Its contents are a rare treat of 1970s sincerity and inadvertent double entendres. I finally figured out how to operate our scanner, so now you get to enjoy it along with me!

"'TAKE AND EAT' says the LORD"? Is the Lord saying it, or that shady character in the vestments?

"Do not fear me, children. I bear snacks. Sacrament-snacks."

I won't really show you every single page, but I especially love the beginning, in which we're told that we begin Mass, basically, by feeling terrible about ourselves. Also: it's very important to have sorrow, but we don't have to feel sad, but we have to mean what we say, which is that we feel sorrow? So we feel sorrow but not sad but how does one feel sad without sorrow or no wait the other way sorrow not sad but sorrow DOES NOT COMPUTE [everything overheats]--

"I humbly beg your forgiveness for this carpeting, O Lord."

"Behold! A trim man-child brings me The Gospels!"

"He looks taller when he's reading. Or is that simply because I'm farther away now? Perspective is a funny thing. I think that's in Paul's Letter to the Corinthians."

"

"This is how I read books. But how do I turn the page, children? HOW?!"

Please note that last paragraph:

"Gifts look best when they are gift-wrapped. So, we come to Mass well-dressed. The priest, especially, in his beautiful vestments, is 'gift-wrapped.'"

"Who wants to unwrap Father Kevin?… anyone?"

"The body of CHRIST would you kids cheer up? No one's making you stand up here! Okay, I guess your parents are. You got me."

I could go on. I really could. But honestly? I feel a little guilty. And I think I might be going to hell for this. I just hope that I get off easy and maybe spend a few millenia in purgatory, amen. Oh, and in case you're wondering:

"Wait, where are you going? I'm making espresso."