I Almost Forgot what My Scarf Tasted Like

I have wanted to write for some time now- days actually, but this season has kept me very busy with rehearsals and parties and time with friends. I’ve really enjoyed this Christmas seasonhere in NYC. We are all moved into our spacious one-bedroom apartment and I absolutely love it. We bought a real Christmas tree last weekend in the pouring rain. And it looks pretty good for a tiny, $25 tree.

I bought two packs of .99 cent ornaments at Jacks (which was an entirely new experience for me as well) and put a big red bow on the top. I have a strand of white Christmas lights, of which about 10-15 of the bulbs don’t light up. Luckily, it’s the bulbs closest to the plug that don’t work, so I wrapped the tree in the ¾ of lights that work and plugged that electrical fire hazard right on into the wall. --- Oh, and the best part, I “borrowed” the lights from my worship director’s office. Thank for the lights, Beth, by the way… I’ll return your broken lights after the first of the year.

I’ve lost a glove twice now, but I’ve found it twice too, so that makes me extremely happy. Once, leaving the subway I dropped it climbing the stairs up to the street level and the girl behind me was nice enough to pick it up and stop me to return it. I had my iPod on so she had to tap me. I was perplexed at her niceness. People are not this nice in the city. I think I told her “Thank You” like three times. Then, I dropped my glove again outside my friend’s apartment building and upon doing a clothing inventory when I got inside her warm place I realized I was missing a glove. I found it lying outside the glass door downstairs.

I get wool fuzz in my mouth and in my eyelashes. My nose runs so I carry those pocket Kleenexes with me at all times. I don’t care about being fashionable, just warm. Warmth is the number one priority. And like my sister realized when she visited here, no one is going to see what you’re wearing underneath your coat, because your coat isn’t going to come off much.

Like Saturday. I went to the grocery store in my pajama bottoms, goulashes, over-sized sleep t-shirt that says, “Texas on Tour” and my big poofy coat. No bra, no make-up no hair washed. But no one could tell because my coat comes down past my knees and my goulashes up to my knees and with my big pink hat on, I looked pretty pitiful anyway. But at least I was warm.

If necessary, I will leave my house fifteen minutes earlier to catch the cross town bus to avoid walking in the wind and rain. This morning the snow was still piled up on the curbs and I considered taking the bus, but I get rather impatient waiting… and waiting… and waiting. So, I walked this morning and it wasn’t so bad. There was no precipitation, just sludge.

In the winter the subways can begin to stink as homeless people move their home from the streets to the train cars. The subway station I get on at each morning has started to smell a little like a cattle trailer. I think it’s because the homeless have moved in. Kind of sad and gross, but what can you do? (I’ll write another blog about this tomorrow.) One cardboard sign that a guy was holding as he sat outside Grand Central Station read, “Homeless, Please Help, Bad Heart.” Same guy, same time, everyday.

In the winter people are less likely to pick up their dog poop, especially in the snow. And the sanitation department is less likely to pick up the trash when there’s a blizzard and so the trash sits covered in snow on the curb.

It’s dark at 4:00 and my serotonin starts to wane. I want to go to bed at 7:00. I don’t want to eat fruits and vegetable which are imported from Florida or Mexico. I want to eat legumes and root vegetables and oatmeal and Campbell’s tomato soup made with skim milk in a saucepan on the stovetop.

I don’t want to run errands like I usually enjoy doing: CVS, Hallmark, dry cleaning. I mean heck, I haven’t even been to the gym in a week- and for no good reason. I just want to go to work and go home. I’m in hibernation mode. I’m settling in for a long winters nap.

Boogers, Rasberry Blistex and Bleeding Knuckles.

I know I keep telling you cold wintery tales. However, I am still facinated by the weather up here- and actually having to "be out in it." It amazes me that I do what I do. Every single day. (Except for Sunday. I skipped church because of the snow. And I still had a holiday get together thingy, sorry God. I'm a bad Christian I know.)

Where I from we don’t have winter. We don’t have snow or salt covered sidewalks or Uggs. People don’t wear winter coats that look like full body-length sleeping bags. I had never seen chains on the tires of a city bus or people shoveling their way out of the driveway until I moved here. The Salvation Army bell ringers don’t wear suits or sing Christmas Carols or yell at you like the emcees on the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon from the karaoke machine sitting at there feet.

And it’s cold outside, real cold. I never realize the unavoidable nose leakage until that clear snot hits me in the upper lip. Why does that happen? And my eyes water. I wear knee-high hosiery underneath wool socks to work each day with my big ugly shoes where I change into my heels.

High heels. Black, platform, pho-snake skin, tall and pointy-toed heels. I’ll admit, I am a bit discussed at the way I have to come into work each day, all 5’6” with no added height whatsoever, in leather shoes with a good grip- but again I say, it’s all about staying warm- and being able to walk down the sidewalk as well. The higher the heel and the pointier the toe the more feminine (read “sexy”) I feel.

Well, I just feel confident. Even if my pants are hand-me-down’s (hand-me-up’s??) from my younger sister and I got my blouse from Housing Works, at least my shoes are nice. Oh, and my handbag. Those are two things I spend money on- shoes and handbags.

And Merry Christmas to me, because I just bought a $200 purse yesterday at Banana Republic for $90. Thank You pre-holiday Sale.

Dubonnet or Vintage Red?

Have you ever experienced a Christmas morning like this? How about simply a morning like this. Nothing is going your way: your oatmeal runs over the side of the bowl in the microwave leaving a huge puddle of goop which will be the consistency of concrete when you get home tonight, you can't find your other glove, and when you get to the train station you realized your Metrocard has expired and you are forced to stand in a line twelve people deep. Now you will be late for work. My morning did not unfold into such a traumatic episode today, however I am feeling a little spoiled. (Kind of like Jonathan, here, about six years ago.)

This is my brother when he was about six or seven and he will be thirteen in April 2010. I don't even recall the reason he got so upset, after all this was the Christmas he got his bike, but I do remember wondering why he was so upset- he had everything. Being the only kid in the house, Christmas was about him. My sisters and I were out of the house, in college, in grad-school, getting proposed to and trying to make car payments. He had four "mothers" to spoil him and he was still somehow ultimately disappointed.

I don't have deep troubles or stresses and yet, I still somehow manage to wake-up with the same headache I went to bed with. I think a chiropractor could solve this problem with a quick alignment, but finding a new chiropractor in NYC sort of weirds me out. Not that there aren't good ones, but I know there are tons of bad ones. I don't take risks when it comes to my musculoskeletal system. Gynecologist, Opthamologist, Dermatologist- I have a whatever attitude. I've given more thought and research (via asking girlfriends, Internet searches & of course investigating the wonder that is YELP) to who cuts my hair than who does my pap smear. Seriously.

Anyway- I don't have a hard life. The hardest decision I made this morning was choosing between oat bran for breakfast or hot Grape Nuts. (I love hot Grape Nuts- they smell like my childhood and taste oh, so, so good!) Deciding to wear MAC's Dubonnet Red lipstick, or Clinique's Vintage Red? I realize that these lip colours are over $20 a piece, but as I thought of this staring in the mirror at my soft pale lips I remembered that both of these were given to me. One by a friend who got didn't like the bold Vintage Red included in her free gift during Clinique bonus time, and the other by a friend who has a fabulous job as Asst. Beauty Editor at First for Women. She gives me marvelous tid-bits: eye color, lip gloss, nail polish- colors that just aren't her.

I have wonderful friends, a great relationship with my family, and a husband who I've loved for almost half my life. (It's all about relationships & people...) Once, after reading a short essay I wrote about Chris, one of the comments I received was, "Stefani, I want to marry your husband." Sorry girls, he's mine. I realize the enormity of all that I have been blessed with. To walk down the sidewalk in New York City, leaves crunching underfoot, to smell pine in the air, candle wax, and exhaust.

I will have a new apartment this weekend. A beautiful space that "we will live in until we die," which I told Chris this morning. With my next paycheck I want to buy a $25 tree from the guy selling trees outside the park entrance on Second Ave and 91st Street. I sort of feel bad for deciding what to buy myself this time of year- with money that's not even in my account yet. I have everything and sometimes still, I'm disappointed. I get the most joy, the most pleasure from giving. Giving it all away: time, money, cups of coffee, dinner, trinkets- dresses I only wore once and purses that just aren't me anymore. I don't feel like I have much. I was raised simply, I am frugal, I do bring my own tuna (in an washed out sour cream container) and bag of Dole Romain lettuce to work to eat for lunch. But, I am so, so blessed.

People, People Everywhere

This is an elf I passed yesterday morning right outside Grand Central Station on my way into work. This is a prime location for marketers to "petal their wares" so-to-speak and I'm amazed at the oddities that I so often see. A couple of weeks ago there were about 50 Santa's wearing shorts beneath there long jackets promoting Augusten Burroughs' new book You Better Not Cry. Hilarious.

Usually, it's just people passing out fliers, pamphlets, and brochures, but I have received a free sandwich from Pepperidge Farm, free chocolate- with coupons attached, and free flavored water.

There are so many people in this city that at some point, things stop surprising you. When you live here, sadly enough you do start to ignore it all. You begin to think that everyone looking at you saying, "Excuse me, sir" is about to ask you for a dollar. Chris told just this week a man was standing on the sidewalk and motioned for Chris's attention. Fighting his desire to keep shuffling past, Chris stopped. "Which way is 86th Street?" the man asked.

You never know. Things may not be as they appear to be, or they very well may be. But does that matter? Last night Chris and I were discussing one of our pet-peeves we have with the Christian religion. Religion with a capital R. Christians always want to convert people, people far, far away- like in Africa. They want to go in and tell people what's right and who's wrong. And not that I'm against evangelism, but shouldn't we start by loving our neighbor. The boss that you dislike, the person in the apartment above you that plays really loud music at 3:30AM, the neighbor who's dog poops in your yard, the friend who quit calling you so she must be a snob. We have to be peacemakers. We have to.

I'm just saying that in New York there are so many freaking people that need love. I want to smother them all with fresh flowers and Starbucks gift cards, and dinner over at my house (even if it's just taco soup and just a one bedroom apartment.) Because after all, it's not our choice who God loves. He's not like us. "He loves because that's the only place real life is. He dwells in love. It's not our right to NOT love."

Sunday, our pastor shared a sermon that really, really shook me up regarding relationships and people and how we interact with everyone we come in contact with, daily. (I will write more about this later- I've been marinating in it.) I think about this city, how big it is and how many souls- lives- people live here. There are a lot of opportunities to hug, smile, listen, buy a coffee. I truly believe in being called to cities- and NYC is mine, for now anyway. I don't need to go to Africa.

December, Week Two

Whew, it's December isn't it? Life gets a little crazy and all seems turned on end from time to time. We've had our first snowfall, so now it feels more holiday-season-ish. And tonight is supposed to be messy which will mean a sludge-commute in the morning. Those are not so pleasant for trouser cuffs.

So, I've been designated the "photographer" for our church Christmas Concert because I "just have an eye for it." So, tonight more photos at the church. Mostly, I just submitted photos that I had already taken, however, I did enjoy taking pictures in Grand Central Station yesterday during the morning commute. There are so many people hustling and bustling about. I'm usually one of them, so to just stand still and watch the mayhem ensue- it was a little overwhelming. Not that this is news to me, but I've never just people watched during "rush hour."

Tonight, more photos, and tomorrow rehearsal. Thursday is our company "Holiday" Party and Friday more rehearsing. Saturday and Sunday are the nights of the Christmas Concert. And perhaps somewhere in all of this Chris and I will be moving across the hall to 32C. Although Tuesday is truly Dec. 15th we are hoping to be able to begin moving this weekend simply to have more time. We will not be taking off work. Then there's the cleaning and organizing and re-organizing and putting back together and hanging and arguing about what goes where. (Not too much of that, really.) I only have a couple of house rules:

1. No TV in the bedroom. Ever. This is a non-negotiable.
2. Most meals eaten/ prepared at home need to eaten together at the Dinner Table.
3. No clothes on the bedroom floor. (Except if they're getting worn again- jeans, hoodies, workout shorts, put them somewhere neatly.)
4. There do not need to be shoes in every room of the house. (Which we will now have two.)

These really aren't rules, just things that make me Me, and Chris knows that. So far, so good. He really is a great husband. He puts the toilet seat down, takes out the trash and loads the dishwasher- as well as puts dishes away. Most anything else he will do, if I ask him to because otherwise, he doesn't see it. And I honestly believe that.

Beer bottles on the coffee table, toothpaste in the sink, cobwebs and hair and fuzzy lint balls that seem to form overnight- he doesn't see them. He doesn't notice that there's half a pot of coffee left in the decanter from four days ago or that there are take-out menus by our front door that some delivery guy has shoved underneath. But when I ask, he'll start the washer and put away clothes in the dryer, except for his white undershirts which he says I fold perfectly. He'll pre-heat the oven and even wash the sheets- if I ask. Once, he even stopped at Trader Joes and bought my favorite soup and Clif bars and stood in that horrific line.

Yesterday he even did some of my Christmas shopping for me. HELLO, how did I get so lucky? Mostly, I love my husband for loving me as fiercely and un-relentless as he does. And because he calls me Super Sexy. Mostly every day.

Perspective

This is me and my Thanksgiving Pecan Pie. I did well- besides the totally fake crust. I made Chris take a picture of me because I was so proud. And on my first try too! Yay.

So, there are things I'd love to say today, but I will refrain because this is the Internet and if you Google "Stefani Chambers" this site is the first thing that comes up. I try to be "good" and refrain. To not tell it all- I try to journal and write and vent to my friends, but sometimes--- there are stories I'd love to tell you but I just can't.

I was reading another blog today and she commented on why we actually write and why (we think) people want to actually read what we write. She says - so much more eloquently than I ever could:
It seems for me that writing forces me to respond to my life instead of merely letting it wash over me. I wonder sometimes what makes people want to read my writing. Is it a form of voyeurism? Curiosity? The need to connect to another human without making a commitment?

I wonder about this alot. Like, oh, whenever I am writing or not writing or people ask me about something they read, or someone they read about in my blog. For instance, one of the elders at my church reads my blog. He's read about my dad, and my self-indulgence and my not wanting children, and the time I peed in the woods. I mean seriously, why do I have this desire to write about any/ everything that I think any/ everyone can probably relate to?

Today, on my way to the train I thought about this when I saw a yellow plastic shopping bag hanging from a bare tree filled with rain water. It hung there like some sort of water balloon just waiting to splat someone. When I see peculiar things. When I experience peculiar things, I think, "I should write about this."

Like the fifteen-year-old-looking girl I pass on most mornings when I leave my apartment. No lie. It's an odd thing in the city to pass the same stranger more than once. But on most days I pass this brunette, long-legged, girl in glasses. And every day, she's eating Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. The second, even the third time I found it so odd. But today, as we walked past each other in front of the guy selling Christmas trees, I knew she had probably never even realized that we crossed paths every single day. I only recognize her as the Reese's girl. What a well-balanced breakfast, a little protein, a little fat. Or the guy selling Texas Pecans right off the subway stop. He sounded Texan. He looked Texan. His cardboard boxes stacked on his card table said, "Texas Pecans." I squinted as I rushed passed to see if I could see what city they were from, but I couldn't.

I write about strangers, about people I'm getting to know better and people I already know well.

One of those I'm getting to know better is this lady who started attending our church sometime late last Spring. She joined the choir this fall. I now know her name. I know her British accent and I've prayed with her. I know she comes to choir just to have somewhere to go, to have a community to be involved in and that's fine. She is a travel/ entertainment/ food critic type writer. Wednesday we discussed restaurants and the expensive private school her daughter attends. (Seriously, I had no idea!) We talked writing and how she had met Jack Canfield and after our ten minutes of sharing I seriously wanted to go to brunch with her. Yes, she is broken and has problems and hurts, but don't we all. Even if her problems are obvious and apparent and not secret sins, she is no less one of God's creations than I am.

When we left rehearsal Wednesday night her face was streaked with mascara and her hands black, appearing soot covered, and damp from snot. I hugged her and told her I'd see her Sunday morning. Oh, but for the grace of God go I.

O Christmas Tree

This is the Christmas Tree from The Chambers's First Christmas together. Our friends the Stockhammer's let us borrow it for the season because they prefered to have a real tree. Isn't it splendid and big and colorful? Look at all the decorations and presents. We even had a real live mantle and stockings by the fireplace and a window that looked out onto our manicured yard that the lawn service professionals tended to each week. It had a sprinkler system and azalea bushes. Wow, what a nice life.

This is a pile of stuff we sold in our "We are moving to New York City" Garage Sale. Although I did get rid of lots of garland and candles and Hobby Lobby-esk type decor, most everything else I left in Texas. (All those, "Our First Christmas" ornaments & our nativity set & our Christmas dishes that I have never even used!)

This is me trudging through lots and lots of stuff preparing to move. (Ah, my red couches, I miss them! And look at that spacious living room- not to mention the dining area and huge kitchen.) We left a two bedroom, two bathroom, two car garage duplex with a front yard and a backyard that we paid $815 a month for! The problem is it was in Texas and we want to live in NYC.

A dear friend once told me that she moved to NYC, one of the craziest, most hectic places in the world, to live the simplest life she has ever lived. I find that statement to be very true.

Weighlifting, Two Cups of Coffee & a Quicky

... all before 8:00am. And thus my day began.

I wore all black today- just so I could dawn my red, velvet heels for the winter. They may seem a bit eclectic, or non-practical, but I wear them quite a bit each winter. They really help me get in touch with my inner sass & I think every woman should have a pair. (Or at least the comparable for those who are not as bold as I am, like lacy undergarments or a big hat or fifteen silver bangle bracelets. Something that says,"I own this room. I'm confident. I'm bold. I'm alive.")

It was 37 degrees as I walked to the subway this morning - (not in my red velvet heels, but in my Borns--YIKES!!) but, I enjoyed it. The cold, crisp air and not working up a sweat before climbing into the MTA pit with all the other people headed to work. It's a funny thing, cramming your body into a subway car with total strangers. There were more people on my subway this morning than there are in the town I grew up in. Eustace, Texas- population 800-something. Weird. And even weirder still is that sometime in the past two and a half years, this has become normal to me.

Thanksgiving was good. My pies were good. Turkey and dressing and sweet potato rolls- all good! Wednesday night I cooked, Thursday I ate, Friday and Saturday I tried to catch moments outside in the sun, and Sunday- more singing, relaxing, and trying to catch more moments in more sun. I walked through Central Park and found myself taken aback by how much had changed since I'd been there last. Seasons- there an amazing thing- and something totally new to me, being from Texas. Something about that place- knowing you are minutes, mere footsteps even, from thousands of people, but feeling so alone in that moment. And Monday--- it was back to work. December is always so busy with parties and dinners and concerts and out-of-town guests and moving.

We moved last December from Astoria into Manhattan and this December we are moving again. Across the hall to a true one-bedroom. Hopefully, sometime around December 15th we can scoot all of our things down the hall. We are really looking forward to it because we get to keep our fabulous view, we don't have to hire movers, and we get more than one closet!! Chris is looking forward to the pass-through bar so he can eat & watch TV at the same time, which is not currently allowed in our home. (I like to have a quiet dinner time at the table where we "discuss our day.") But, living room dinners may be acceptable from time-to-time.

So, sometime after December 15th we can put up a tree (hopefully). I have been promised a hand-me-down tree, which I do not oppose, however, it still sits in a basement in Jersey. But, I have recently started rallying for a real tree.

In NYC the day after Thanksgiving the tree salesmen pop up overnight across the city. Currently, my argument for buying a real tree vs. getting a free tree are:

1. If we got a small, real tree I would not be tempted to decorate it with ornaments and lights and garland - none of which we have, all of which are in storage in Eustace, Texas with our Christmas dishes, nativity set, stockings, etc.
2. If we purchased a real tree we wouldn't have to store it.
3. I wouldn't spend additional monies on lots and lots of ornaments, lights, and garland for our small tree. It would be more like a large house plant.
If not a tree, then maybe just a swag with berries or a wreath or something, ANYTHING to denote Christmas.

I moved to NYC with two ornaments, a fall/ holiday garland thing I got at Pier One, and a penguin candy dish. The penguin is wearing a hat and scarf. Pretty pitiful. I know I'd rather have a new apartment than a new silver necklace or new lip gloss or a new journal, but I want Christmas to be somewhat festive.

I want it to feel like Christmas. For the same reason I'm wearing my red lacy undies that Chris got me- the ones that match my red heels and red lipstick. It's merry. It's holiday-ish. It's glad tidings of great joy (okay, maybe not.) Watch out world, here I come.