gay guinea pigs and candle excess

12-18-99

Howdy ho, I'm back. I needed a couple of days off. My brain was falling apart from exhaustion and lack of cool things happening, and my entries were too shitty even to reflect my scattered state of mind. It must be the whole holiday thing. Normally, this time of year, I'm coasting along, picking up a few last-minute gifts, and finishing up a semester's finals. The Christmas business of decorations and cooking and all that, that was Mom and Dad's problem. I'd show up on the 24th after working ten hours, hang out overnight, and get back to school in time to work on the 26th.

This year, I'm working and decorating, cooking, planning parties, etc. Not so easy, is it Bets? Christmas is still fun, but in a different way. now I feel more responsible for the whole affair.

I spent all of yesterday afternoon baking. My grandmother is first generation Ukrainian, and the holidays at my house are filled with the smells of nutty Christmas cookies, fried dough cookies, pierogi, and split pea soup. I made the nut horns yesterday, rolling out the cream cheese dough and filling tiny dough-disks with walnuts and honey. They were a lot more fun and a lot less messy than I thought they'd be. The recipe makes about 13 dozen—insanity. I baked and baked and baked, and at the end I had a ton of filling left over and 9-10 dozen cookies. I must not have rolled the dough thinly enough at first. No matter; there are way too many cookies lining the counters of my tiny kitchen. By the time they're packed away, the pierogi dough will be ready to roll.

I took a tin of nut horns to work with me this morning. Dr. Figaro insisted that I need to bake more of them, call them by their Ukrainian name (which I don't know,) and sell them to the bakeries in town. Hey! One more money-making scheme that I'll dream of for half a day and then forget. New Year's Resolution Number One: follow through on one of my "projects." The cookies, the essays, the poetry, the pet-sitting, the music reviews, the etudes, the recitals, the handmade Christmas ornaments.... Need I go on?

Tonight we headed over to Rob's for a small party; Rob, Danelle, Becky, Anna, and the two of us. We exchanged gifts and sat around for a few hours, since everyone else is going home sometime this week. Candles were a motif. We gave Danelle a candle, Becky gave me a candle, Becky gave Rob candles, Becky gave Anna a candle, Rob gave Anna a candle. We're just candleheads. Apparently.

Some very cool gifts changed hands tonight. None of us have that much money, but we're all on the yuppie side of good taste—hence the candle epidemic. My jewel boxes for Anna and Becky were much admired. I did the old macaroni-on-cigar-box thing, but neither of them had heard of it before and were very impressed. Anna gave us a pair of way cool Christmasy latte mugs. Becky gave me the coolest brown chenille hat. A bottle of Hennessy and two brandy snifters from Rob and Danelle. Candles, scented air fresheners, and Atkins-approved peanut snacks from Becky. (John's doing the Atkins thing.)

Becky gave Anna a pair of "wicking tights." They supposedly wick moisture to the outside of the tights. Very interesting; these tights were the source of countless jokes. Definitely the most-referenced gift of the evening. Close second in number of jokes was Danelle's story: the tag on a chain saw reading "Do Not Operate This Product Near Genitals."

Third: Anna's gay guinea pigs. Anna had a male guinea pig named Petey. When she got a second guinea pig, she made sure to get another male so there would be no accidents. Got home and found out that Petey is a girl. Petey virtually attacked the tiny new pig, Patch, jumping on him and humping him mercilessly. All in the name of fun. Later, we figured out that Petey really is a boy, he's just, well, gay. Or desperate.

Last night John spilled the beans.

John: "Today at lunch Becky and I were talking about sleeping nude,"

Betsy: "How the hell did you get on that topic?"

John: "Well, I told her that I bought you a pair of paja...." (claps hand over mouth, then snaps fingers wildly, to make the last bit disappear. Chandler-style.)

So, I guess at least one thing from my Santa List will arrive next week. Thanks, sweetie!