...of Christmas eve cheer was administered to me tonight.
A friend who lives in the building next to mine -- which is a charming little 1920s apartment court -- invited me to join her, and two of her neighbors, for Christmas Eve dinner.
I had time to whip over to Trader Joe's and pick up some sparkling apple cider and pie, so did not arrive empty-handed. The food was traditional fare: turkey with stuffing, mashed 'taters, peas, wild rice.
The really nice part of the evening was the company. H. is a photographer, so we have something in common. Better, she and the other guests are part of what makes this area so nice to live in, what the inevitable yuppification Where The Ghetto Meets The Sea will destroy: a kind of benign but slightly demented end-of-the-continent sensibility that breeds individuality and a desire -- almost a need -- to live among all kinds of oddball people.
Does that makes sense to you? I don't know. It might be one of those you-have-to-be-here things. I simply dig hanging out with real people who don't care about image or status. They simply are.
Christmas-y it wasn't. Not exactly, anyway. No religion involved, just four people who craved relaxed, friendly, caring company in a season that virtually demands such close social intercourse.
Christmas: be there or be square, Jim.
So it was four people and two cats in this little 1920s apartment with its hardwood floors, a space for a long-gone Murphy Bed on one wall, munching on holiday food and making each other laugh.
H. will never know what she saved me from, bless her heart. I had a bout of self-revelation today, and the revelation did not please me. I will write about it, because it is most bothersome.
But not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
Tonight, I'm smiling. H. is a good friend, her neighbors are interesting and likable, her kittycats dug me, and Hobbes is snoozing after enjoying some turkey leftovers.
According to NORAD, Santa is at this moment in Calgary, Alberta. I know a place there where he's going to leave some fine presents. A few lumps of coal dropped over Idaho, and he'll soon be on his way to Seattle.
I don't care that he'll zoom right past my place, too. I was given a sweet gift this evening, which I hope I returned in some small way.
It's already December 26th in Manila, where Art Bell is doing his show. I've got a full stomach, a full heart, and a shot of Trader Joe's best single-malt.
Seems like a perfect moment to say "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night."
3 hours ago