All I want for Christmas. Is some GORGEOUS $50 red shoes (that's actually half off. I know.). In size 7. By Frank Sarto. Pictured above.
And a haircut.
But the shoes are far more important.
(I know I've become totally high maintenence now...)
You'll notice that I put up December's banner a few days late. This is because November lasted until the 3rd of December this year. In my mind.
You see, all time blends together when you're job-searching.
The reason I chose the popular song title for this month is that it feels fitting. Silly. Sexy. Jazzy. Me.
When I lived in Shippensburg, Erika crocheted a set of lingerie for me. Red crocheted lingerie with white feathery trim. A bit of chilly holiday cheer. Now, I've not had the opportunity to wear said lingerie, but I keep it lovingly folded in chest with the other costumy interesting things I've collected the past several years. And, when she gave me this gift, Erika made me promise that when I do wear it I have to sing Santa Baby to whomever I wear it for.
I agreed.
As I said, it has yet to be done. And won't be this winter either. But, I sit in anticipation of my debut...
And so does my blog banner.
Santa, Baby, I want a yacht and really that's not alot. Been an angel all year. Santa, Baby, hurry down the chimney tonight...
Think of all the fun I've missed. Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed. Next year I could be just as good...if you check off my Christmas list...
Last July 4th I was in Pennsylvania with a large contingent of Peopleiknow and Peopleidontknow. It was mostly college friends--either graduated or otherwise--and we played a lot of frisbee.
At some point, two of the boys (who were still in school at the time, I believe) decided to climb the back fence and enter the Lancaster wilderness (by Lancaster wilderness, I do mean the small stream at the bottom of the hill separating the neighborhood from the Amish farm behind it. Naturally, I followed them. As frisbee is never as exciting as exploration.
Unfortunately, I never think about things like...appropriate footwear. I mean, why would it be important? I can make it over the seven foot fence, down the mud-slick hill, and, you know, back up again later when I feel like returning to festivities in the end.
I broke my sandal halfway down the hill. While this didn't bode well for our journey (this and the fact that both college boys forgot I was there after they'd done their duty by helping me over the fence). My solution to this was to take off both shoes and walk in the stream. The boys along the shore, me in the center of the icy water.
Actually, I did that a lot when I lived in Pennsylvania. Walked in streams. Rivers.
Another time, when I was still in college, living in the upperclassmen dorms, I took a long walk, by myself, in the stream behind the running track. This little adventure ended up in a rather shocking manner.
You see, I'm not a local Pennsylvanian girl. No sir. I grew up in the city. A tourist town, actually. I am used to the dangers of, say, running over a tourist at the beach or being arrested for swearing on the boardwalk (yep, it's illegal). But I'm not used to dangers associated with rural PA. For example: being run over by a buggy has never crossed my mind. So you can see that I was underprepared for a trip down the river by myself in middle-Pennsylvania.
As I made my way down the stream, getting farther and farther from campus, I also was making my way across other people's property. I can only tell this by the fact that there were barbed fences across the water at regular intervals. They were high enough to lift gingerly over my head. So I kept going. I mean, what self-respecting adventurous college student wouldn't?
Finally, near the point where I was just going to turn around and document in my journal that the river led to nowhere interesting, I came to a queer looking fence. I didn't pause for a second before lifting it over my head, but I did have a second of time where I thought "gee, that fence is so clean and shiny...and why doesn't it have barbs?"
Electrified. That's why it was clean. No spiders can live on that. So, there I was, standing in a foot of water, grabbing an electric fence. I didn't know a heart could beat that fast.
As for my original story (which cannot beat this one), the long and short is that I made it back to the party and it began to pour down rain. I was already wet from my wading adventure and decided to play in the rain. Mind you, no one else at the party liked this idea. So I watched the fireworks in the rain. Alone.
That was 2006, July 4.
This year was less exciting. So I thought I'd relive that one for you. There you have it. Rain and fireworks. Rain and rivers. Rain.
gg.
