A Very Denver Christmas

What a difference a year makes.  Last year, I began my Christmas morning with a run along Newport Beach, the sun warming my shoulders, and the chilly, winter waves of the Pacific lapping at my ankles.  I wore shorty-shorts and a tank top, while Mouse sunned himself in a beach lounger, with nothing but swim-trunks in-situ, while he waited for me.  There was no puppy, and definitely no snow.   It was just the two of us living our California dream. We laughed at all of the suckers living in cold climates, smug in our fortune to live in such a temperate climate. It was a Christmas most people can only dream of.

Fast-forward 365 days.  This year, we woke to seeing our collective breath in the frigid air around us. A quick glance at my iPhone confirmed what we suspected; it was a bone-chilling 10 degrees outside that morning. Even the puppy looked cold. So, we did what any sane couple would do, and snuggled deep into our plush, down comforter, seeking out maximum warmth with each other.  There would be no running on the beach this morning, or bocce ball as the tide went out. With three inches of snow blanketing the city, and not much hope of the temperature rising, we were destined for a more traditional, North American Christmas, all bundled up and hunkered down around the fire. Now we were the suckers, living in a cold climate. We definitely lost our element of cool. Let the OC nostalgia begin.

But, even though much has changed from last year to the present, so much stayed the same. I love how we do Christmas. We kept our tradition of champagne and crab legs for breakfast. We still took full advantage of this being one of the rare days in which we get to be utterly and completely lazy. After living apart for the past few months, an entire day of uninterrupted "together" time felt like an exquisite luxury. And, of course, this year, we had the added bonus of being continuously entertained by our rambunctious puppy. So, plummeting temperatures and snow aside, this turned out to be a wonderful Christmas. It wasn't as glamorous as holidays of past, but that didn't matter. I guess this a perfect example of how it's not as important where you are for the holidays, as it is who you're with. And, as long as I'm with my Mouse, I'm exactly where I need to be.

Home for the Holidays

I did it. I'm done. My contract is over, and I'm back home in Colorado. Being back is like breathing a huge sigh of relief. Ahhh. It just feels SO good to be home. I don't care that I'm land-locked. I don't care that it's freezing cold this time of year. I don't even care that I've already had to battle one snowy day. Bring it on. I will gladly give up the ocean, and all of the other perks associated with my former SoCal lifestyle, to be back in my home with my boys.

Now that I'm back, I'm left to scramble to get things ready for the holidays. And there is soooo much to be done. Christmas cards, presents, wrapping. You name it, I still need to do it. It's my own fault, really. I totally slacked off so far this year, thanks to my extended absence. I guess it was unavoidable. But now I'm paying the time-crunch price, running around like a chicken with her head cut off. (Sigh!) At least the Christmas tree is now up, and I still have a few days to shop, so all is not at a loss. But, to be perfectly honest, I really don't care. This may not be the most perfect Christmas on record, but it's going to be amazing simply because I'm home to appreciate every last moment. And isn't that what truly matters?

Strange Days

It's a strange life I've been living these past few months.  Camping out in a cramped one-bedroom apartment with a friend and her neurotic dog.  Sleeping on a cot.  No television.  No Internet.   I may be living and working in The OC, but trust me, nothing about my current situation is glamourous.   At best, I feel like a broke college kid again, couch-surfing and partially living out of my car.   Although, even then, I lived more luxuriously than this.  The whole thing is so pitiful, it's almost funny.  I'm not sure what I thought life would be like when I signed up for this travel stint, but this certainly isn't it.

And yet, despite all of my whining, I have to admit, it's not really all that bad.  I'm making due.  Sure, the cot isn't doing my back any favors, and the whole situation is far from ideal, but it does remind me to be grateful for all I have back home.  It reminds me why I work so hard, and make the sacrifices I do.  It makes me appreciate the life I have temporarily left behind, and keeps me focussed on why I came out here in the first place.  Besides, at least I have a red wine buddy on my rare nights off.

Luckily, the countdown to the end of this nonsense has begun.  Nine days until Mouse arrives to bring me home.  Nine days and seven shifts, to be exact.  I'm so excited, I can barely contain myself.  Soon, all of this will be a thing of the past, a comical topic to bring up at dinner parties.  We'll all have a good laugh at my days sleeping on a cot, fending off a dog who likes to eat my underwear.  Soon, very soon, I will be back in my own house, with my own bed, and my own husband in my arms.  I guess that's another plus side to all of this, it's highlighted how the simple things are what truly make me happy.