My parents’ neighbor is a photographer.  She actually took the photos at our wedding.

Her name is Kay Walsh. Look her up!

This year, as a Christmas gift, she came by to take photos of our family. All things considered, I think they came out quite normal although you could tell that Kay was slightly baffled when we requested an American Gothic shot and one where we stood in a boat with life vests.

Remember when I was posting about our odd holidays? This could be part four.

PS. The last photo is my favorite.

(Dan thought it was hilarious that I didn’t turn my rake over. I was trying to be original.)

And then we have… Coldplay.

For work, we’re bringing in photos of ourselves from bygone years.

I’m not sure that I actually made these glitter wings myself, but I guarantee that I requested, in a very bossy way, that someone make them. 

Thanks, Mom.

She also sent this gem.

I believe that I am sporting a flower and ribbon crown/veil with a blouse and a bathing suit.

Style. Always had it.

Homemade gifts.

Years ago, my dad always used to tell us to make him something for Christmas and I always believed that that was his nice way of saying, “Look, you can’t afford anything better.” The older I get, the more I appreciate the homemade things, the things that are messy and imperfect but made by someone you love and thereby as perfect as can be. 

Each Christmas Eve, we exchange poems. This one was from Kim, a poem called THE FIRST DREAM by Billy Collins.

The Wind is ghosting around the house tonight
and as I lean against the door of sleep
I begin to think about the first person to dream,
how quiet he must have seemed the next morning

as the others stood around the fire
draped in the skins of animals
talking to each other only in vowels,
for this was long before the invention of consonants.

He might have gone off by himself to sit
on a rock and look into the mist of a lake
as he tried to tell himself what had happened,
how he had gone somewhere without going,

how he had put his arms around the neck
of a beast that the others could touch
only after they had killed it with stones,
how he felt its breath on his bare neck.

Then again, the first dream could have come
to a woman, though she would behave,
I suppose, much the same way,
moving off by herself to be alone near water,

except that the curve of her young shoulders
and the tilt of her downcast head
would make her appear to be terribly alone,
and if you were there to notice this,

you might have gone down as the first person
to ever fall in love with the sadness of another.

Then, on Christmas day, my dad gives everyone ornaments.

They go well with his gifts from previous years.

I gave everyone photos, like this:

My cousin Nick made sculptures.

My cousin Mark did the same.

And Robert made absolutely amazing desserts.

It’s amazing how precious it all seems now.

Which didn’t stop us, in any way, from eating those pastries. Nor will it stop someone in the family from re-gifting one of those sculptures back to its maker next year. But for now… precious.

…everyone, for your sweet emails and wishes.

Feeling like a lucky b’day girl.

Ok, next up: THE GREY.

For those of you who are not men, THE GREY is a movie coming out this year. It stars Liam Neeson as a guy who, after a plane crash, finds himself in the middle of nowhere in Alaska surrounded by wolves. Naturally, Liam is going to need to fight (and I’m guessing ultimately kill) said wolves.

This trailer could not have made my brother and husband more excited. One particular moment from the trailer, where Liam ties bottle shards to his hands and runs at a wolf, was reenacted dozens of times over the course of our visit. Eventually my dad and uncle were also overtaken by this testosterone-fueled giddiness and by the time we got to Christmas day, they were acting it out.

Technically, there should be three wolves and one Liam, but those wolf hats are expensive.

Oh yes. They BOUGHT a wolf hat.

I did not participate since, naturally, someone needed to document it. My mom did not participate because… well, she didn’t really need a reason.

Here goes:

I just finished looking through the photos from our holidays and am struck by a common theme. Most of the pics are of my family doing rather odd stuff. Watching oranges levitate. Reenacting the trailer for THE GREY. Exchanging homemade gifts that have no logical purpose.

I love it. Nothing makes you feel like you’re on the team more than flying a badly constructed airplane on Christmas day and sending it directly into a shrub.

Here they come.

First up: the oranges. We have no idea who sent us this levitating device for Christmas, which makes it even better.

Exhibit A : Fruit vs. levitating fruit. There is a pretty obvious winner.

At least we clearly thought so.

PS. It took my brother approximately 20 minutes to make this thing work. If you are even slightly off, the magnet slams the little platform into the table.

PPS. The fruit rotates too.

PPPS. I don’t think they recommend using fruit.

I’ve been, admittedly, a pretty terrible blogger this last month. Or at least a terribly inconsistent blogger. I strive for more and better postings in 2012, but since I am also committed to almost non-stop exercise (starts tomorrow) and eating better, more meditation, more travel, more general creativity and goodness and all that… well, the blogging thing has an uphill climb to the top of my priority list. But still. I shall try.

I reigned in 2012 in a rough way. On a beach in Hawaii.

You can send all related hate mail to my email address.

My immediate family, after a whopper of a year, decided that a little sunshine was in order. We left a very cold and wet Seattle for the sunny and sunnier beaches of Maui. It was not so dissimilar from trips we used to take when I was 12. My brother was there, my dad, my mom, my brother’s girlfriend Molly. (That part was new, I suppose.) My dad, true as always to tradition, spent just about the entire time in constant motion. My mom, true to her usual vacation mode, balanced him by moving as little as possible. The thrice daily conversations went like this:

Dad: Let’s all go snorkeling!

Mom: (pointed silence. sunbathing.)

Dad: Come on. It’ll be so much fun! Come on, Odee!

Ben and/or Emily: (sensing that the marriage is on the line)  I’ll go, Dad!

Repeat. Repeat.

We had a lovely time, in truth. We had drinks at 2:00 in the afternoon, discovered numerous beaches, read books, watched the Justin Bieber movie (uh huh), pretended we were staying at the Ritz, ate fruit, used up barrels of sunscreen. We ate at some place which claimed to be a “fish shack” which had valet parking and 20 dollar salads.

I took only a couple photos because my phone mostly lay untouched in the condo and my real camera wouldn’t have made it through the blowing sand.

We celebrated the west coast new year so that we could all go to bed two hours early. That’s my kind of holiday.

I wish everyone, all of you, a happy 2012.