Thursday, November 17, 2005

The Holidaze, they are upon us....

And so they are! My extended family has gone ahead and established "Thanksmas". Akin to Festivus, the made up holiday by Seinfeld's George Costanza's father, Thanksmas is the result of evolution gone wild, a sign of the American Landscape times, and here how it goes.

My Gramma Torre busted out with like five daughters and one son, all of which have families of their own. Think about how tough it is to get together with even a group of people at your office for lunch, let alone fifty odd screaming Italians for one dedicated holiday celebration. It wasn't too bad when we all lived in North Jersey, but we are scattering like dandelion parachutes on a light summer breeze.

It was, of course, a matter of import that no matter what, you were at Gramma's house for Christmas Eve. From there, you went wherever you wanted to. Having said that, trying to get to Garfield, NJ for Christmas Eve, then back to Washington DC, Pennsylvania, and now Georgia for Christmas seems a little impossible.

Add to that mix the fact that we are all pretty much married up, and "they" (the various in and outlaws) have spouses of their own, with Grammas and other folk what would love to see us over the holidizzles, fo' shizzle. What is a nice Italian family to do?

Well, we just gave up Christmas. How do you like that? The Torre clan has taken a step back, took a deep breath, and made the call which says "Hey, it doesn't matter what day it is, lets just get together." Brilliant. Who can begrudge their spouse a Thanksgiving trip, when all of Christmas is up for grabs? Thanksmas. Long may you wave. I look forward to the Thanksmas dinner with all the trimmings, the Thanksmas grab bag, and the Cousin's Thanksmas "Run for Ice."

What I am left with is a prolonged Christmas Holiday season, starting a full month before the actual date, and hopefully lasting throughout the long dark of February. I like the idea of trees being trimmed, gooses getting fat and presents be given and gotten all through the winter. I will hopefully approach Thanksmas as my gateway drug of choice for the holiday season, one that I hope hooks me into an addiction of good cheer, charity and those loverly Gingerbread Lattes. Winter has always grabbed my heart a bit chilly (I think I posted that I planned on hibernating fo the whole thing) but this year....we dance and drink and sing!

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

But Nightmares, Like Headaches...

....have a thousand different possible causes, all equally valid.

Hello, true believer, and know ye this. Although I strut about like the happy go lucky man about town, I am plagued by nightmares. I cannot remember the last time I dreamt that wasn't some form of horrific somnabulant frolic through a kafka-esque field of death's headed poppies. Long gone are the sweaty romps with the cashier at the supermarket, the actual flights of fancy aboard the back of a scintillating typewriter headed dragon, or the occaisional free fall through purple marshmallow effervesence. My dreamscape is a relief map of Hell.

Take last night, for instance, where I got to witness, for about 40 virtual minutes, the serial killer that was in my custody for transporting, and who had hypnotized me along the way, slowly and methodically carving up my forearm with a straight razor. Lovely.

The night before? Ah yes, as a phase of fraternity hazing, I was forced to shoot broad bladed arrows from a bow at a wall that would bounce half of them back into my own head. Delightful that. Probably more delightful was slowly pushing them all the way through my brain, trying hard not to dislodge too big a piece of my skull, as I could see my brain beyond, and didn't want to lose any of it. Did I mention I did all this while sobbing uncontrollably the whole time?

Yeah, its been a picnic up there in my brain. The saving grace in all of this is my Goodely Wyfe, who holds me and cuddles me like an infant when I wake up, not necessarily screaming, but more mewling like a kitten from fear and fright.

I sleep with a stuffed bear now, as well, who has made the transition to being a helpful spirit in my dreams, when I can remember to bring her into them. One time, another serial killer was trying to get me into his car, rather successfully, and I awoke with a fit and a cry. The Goodely Wyfe gave me Jet, the stuffed bear, and I drifted back, knowing that my dream would continue. Luckily, when the killer approached me, a "real" version of Jet came through, and mauled the perpetrator unmerciful. Horrific as that site was, I was comforted and very proud of my little Jet.

I try to remember that she is there, but cannot the meantime, I am afraid to go to sleep now, and I get tonnes of different advice about eating habits, sleeping positions, etc., to help alleviate the problem. I am thinking booze and pills, but hey, that's just me.

Would it kill the cosmos to give me a nice three girl show in the ole' dream theatre once in awhile? I think I am a pretty nice guy, karmically speaking. How about one for the ole Robbyblog?

How about it?