The end of the year Facebook trend of 2014 is for people to share highlights of the year through some of the photos they’ve posted. After being prompted at least a dozen times to look at mine, I decided the pictures I’d either posted or had been tagged in didn’t represent my year very well, so I chose not to make one. Instead I did a month-by-month review of what I had posted on Facebook in 2014, thinking there would be at least fifteen moments (which I’m estimating is the average number of pictures used in the year-end photo cards) which would summarize my year. Here’s what I found, along with some background information about why each moment made the list:
January 28
“I don't mind saying it: Going back tomorrow to a full day meeting after having three of the last four school days off from the cold, and being somewhat limited in the amount of planning I'm able to do right now leaves me feeling a bit disoriented and apprehensive about the rest of the week.”
There was very little about the winter of 2014 that could be given a positive spin. To begin with, last January was historically, unreasonably cold. And if that wasn’t enough, the teachers’ union in our district was on Work to Rule for several weeks during prolonged contract negotiations. This fueled contentious moments of distraction for many people with different perspectives, and even being on the periphery of such things eventually took its toll on a lot of us.
February 20
“Nature is Lucy. Spring is the football. We're all Charlie Brown.”
The winter dragged on relentlessly. More than once we thought we could see the light at the end of the tunnel, only to be greeted the following morning by a twenty-degree temperature drop and eight fresh inches of snow on the ground. It was disheartening, to say the least.
March 16
“I found out today ‘Following Infinity’ made the cut for another writing contest. A boatload of agents who represent similar works will be looking over the excerpt I submitted in the next few days. This makes having to go back to school tomorrow a bit easier to take.”
The list of finalists in Brenda Drake’s Pitch Madness contest went live just as Spring Break came to an end. We’ll call the inclusion of this moment a bit of foreshadowing.
March 26
“1A. Nice.”
As if I haven’t had cancer intersect with my life enough times already, it showed up twice this year, in a friend of mine and in a family member -- the relieving diagnosis of 1A referring to the latter. I am so very happy to report that as the year closes they have both successfully completed their treatments, with neither person experiencing more than minimal complications or side effects. Thank God for 21st century medicine.
April 15
“I am unreasonably, ridiculously happy to share this news: I have accepted an offer of representation from Carrie Howland, a literary agent with Donadio & Olson, Inc. based in New York City. I have no question that my manuscript and my writing career are in the best of all possible hands. More detailed information to follow soon....”
There isn’t much more to say about this that I haven’t already covered elsewhere. But it is worth mentioning that receiving a vote of confidence like this, from not just any literary agent but from her, led me to discovering a new belief in my writing I hadn’t allowed myself to own before.
May 11
This blog post: Rock and Roll Grandmas
My cousins, my sister, and I had a great time conspiring to put together a Mother’s Day gift of a trip for two little old ladies to a big time Vegas rock show in the summer. I couldn’t be happier that everything came together as perfectly as it did.
June 10
“Today will be, without a doubt, a great day at school. None of our students will be hurt on the field trip, or explode into filthy-mouthed rants, or steal anything, or get suspended, or make their friends cry, or try to argue how it's really okay that they didn't leave their phones in the main office like they're supposed to because they aren't using them. Plus everyone who is supposed to return items checked out from the school will bring them back right away in the morning, and of course those items will be in perfect condition. At least that's what I'm telling myself.”
If I remember right, June 10th, the second to the last day of the school year, was a pretty good day. But I found it interesting while I reviewed my posts from this year to discover how many references to my day job were less than enthusiastic.
July 15
“Whew... tagged by a distracted driver at a stoplight, upcoming appointments with Abra and Enterprise in a couple weeks, and all I can say is good thing for auto insurance. Now just to shake the residual unsettled feelings that follow.”
I felt lucky at the time that my accident, for as much damage as there was to my car, hadn’t been any worse. I really had no idea just how lucky I had been.
August 22
“Last Friday of the summer. I don't know whether to cry or cry.”
It’s never easy to say goodbye to summer break. It was particularly rough this year.
September 25
“A morning walk that began under the stars and ended inside of the sunrise, listening to Peter Gabriel's "Ovo" album and thinking about my characters for an hour. A nice start to the day.”
I had been in a habit of taking early morning walks through my neighborhood this summer and autumn. It was a beautiful way to start the day, and turned out to be a great way to fire up my writing brain. I look forward picking up that routine again after winter runs its course.
October 17
“I haven't given Harry Potter a second thought in years, and now this week I can't stop watching the movies.”
The whole Harry Potter universe has been a reliable escape for me when I needed it. It was great serendipity that a Harry Potter movie marathon came on while I was dogsitting for my parents, and one of the dogs became very sick for a very long week, capped off with two visits to the emergency vet. The movie marathon was the perfect distraction right when I needed it. (And the dogs are both fine now, by the way.)
November 15
“Yeah...Garth who?”
This November Garth Brooks had a stretch of something like ten or eleven consecutive nights of concerts in the Cities, and so many people were posting photos of how they were getting all cowboy’d up on the night they were going to see him, it rivaled the frequency the Ice Bucket Challenge. Now, I have nothing against Garth Brooks. Seems like a nice guy. But I’m not a fan. So when Motley Crue came to St. Paul the same weekend Garth was playing in Minneapolis, I felt it was important to make sure people knew which side of the river I was on that night.
November 28
“So I wake up this morning and see this thing staring at me. No idea what it is or where it came from. I'm a little freaked out.”
The first Cinnamon post, back before I had any idea what the response would be like. In fact, before I even knew his name was Cinnamon.
December 14
“It may have taken six days longer than she had originally planned, but my sister finally made it home from work tonight.”
My sister was driving home from work one night and when her car was blindsided on the highway. She ended up in the hospital for nearly a week, and still has months of recovery ahead of her. Which is awful but also a blessing, since she was millimeters away from things being so much worse. I’ll say it again -- Thank God for 21st century medicine.
December 19
“The last day of school before winter break has always been one of my favorites. By this time in the year I've known my students long enough for them to become truly important to me, so the hyperactive and joyful tone of the day is more like riding a wave than trying to survive one as it crashes against me. The upcoming time away from school also helps me appreciate getting to work with so many talented and dedicated people, many of whom have become my good friends. For all of the stress and frustration that comes with the job, days like today serve as a reminder that things could be so much worse.”
I’ve been teaching for a long time now, so I’ve been around to see many different patterns and trends and philosophies and ideals cycle their way through the profession. As much as things change and as frustrating and discouraging as they can become, it’s always worth remembering that having both a great class and working with people you respect can make a tremendous difference in the best possible way.
And that puts a cap on 2014. As for 2015? Simply put, I can’t think of the last time I’ve had a year ahead of me with so little about it I felt I could predict.
I kind of like that.
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Thursday, December 25, 2014
The Conclusion of the Cinnamon Invasion
Day 22
I find this sign on the garage door when backing out to go to school this morning. I hope Cinnamon has a good hiding spot picked out. His days are looking numbered.
My day goes on without as much as a passing thought toward Cinnamon and his shenanigans. I walk out to the mailbox when I get home and find out that now it seems mail addressed to Cinnamon -- from someone who knows him primarily by his Elven name -- is being delivered to my house. Today he received what could be fairly described as a threatening jigsaw puzzle. As a result, his stress level is very high this evening.
Day 23
The arrival of that puzzle last night really got to Cinnamon. I find him sitting back in the sun room this morning, exhausted from trying to shed his anxiety and frustration all night.
"I thought squeezing this tennis ball was supposed to help me get rid of my stress!" he shouts with his demented cartoon chipmunk voice. "It isn't working!"
"Now, you do realize you're sitting in the sun room," I point out, "and you're surrounded by windows, and anyone looking for you would be able to see exactly where you are?"
He closes his stupid plastic eyes and lets the ball roll to the floor. "I don't think it makes a difference anymore," he says, sounding utterly defeated.
Day 24
When I didn't see Cinnamon this morning, I knew better than to hope he had moved on. He hadn't really bounced back from his depressive spiral yesterday and this concerned me; not because I was worried about him, but I didn't want anything damaging going on inside my house.
I began to hear a quiet, low-pitched rumble in the middle of the afternoon. It almost sounded like a poorly-maintained engine idling somewhere down the street, but whenever I stepped outside to try and figure out what it was, it would stop. After some careful exploration, I figured out it was coming from my grandmother's piano, almost as if it were alive and breathing. Then I noticed the hat.
"Why? Are you in the piano?" I ask. He doesn't respond. I slam my palm down on an octave of keys and hear him skittering awake.
"What? What?" he screeches. Raw panic. I don't think he could tell he was trapped in place by the hat. I let him struggle there for a few moments, enjoying the sound of his fright more than I care to admit.
"WHY ARE YOU IN THE PIANO?" I shout.
"What time is it?" he whispers.
"Late afternoon, almost sunset," I said. "Why could you possibly care?"
"I thought over what you said yesterday, about hiding places," he answers. "Today is the Winter Solstice. I need a good hiding place now more than ever before."
"Because?"
"Because?" he repeats, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because? You really can't be this stupid. The Winter Solstice is the longest night of the year, which almost means it's the darkest day of the year. For Dark Elves, this is the day when our powers are the most...heightened."
"Really. And your smiley-faced elf powers are so mighty that you need to hide in a ninety-year-old piano."
"There's only one of me," he finally replies. "There are more of them."
"So I'm guessing you don't get along with the other elves very well."
"They aren't all elves," he says. "It's a guild. The elves just lead it. Or at least we had at one time. I really don't know anymore. Now, please just leave me alone. One way or another you'll be rid of me soon."
And I think, Not soon enough.
Day 25
I left the house early to finally get my Christmas shopping done. It went fast, so I was home sooner than expected. I walk in with my packages to the sound of bloodcurdling shrieks.
"Help me, please!" Cinnamon screams. "They've found me! They're here in the house RIGHT NOW!" I see him sprawled on the floor, restrained in a manner which gives me a moment of pause.
"Where are they?" I ask, setting down my gifts and hurrying into the living room, searching.
"I think...there's only...one," he replies, the strain in his voice evident. I rush down the hallway, more than ready to finally put an end to all of this ridiculousness. No sign of anything or anyone. Just as I turn back I hear a loud grunt and a painful cry. By the time I return to the kitchen, he's gone.
"You shouldn't have done that." A menacing voice fills the room. "Coming in when you did surprised me. You gave him the moment of distraction he needed for escape."
"Yeah, did I?" I answer. "Well, your problem, not mine."
"Unless I decide to make it your problem," came the amused reply.
"Seriously?" I say. "I've had that little freak taking over my life for the past month, and now you really think I'm going to put up with whatever YOU are? Show yourself!"
A figure rises from behind a chair. Twenty-five days ago this sight would have had my jaw dropping to the floor. But now?
"Of course," I say. "You. It makes perfect sense now."
"We'll continue this later," I hear as it vanishes, the sound of the voice trailing off into nothing like dissipating smoke.
Day 26
I'm awake much too early. There's an unfamiliar sound coming from the living room, and immediately I know something is wrong. I stagger out of bed and down the hall. As both promised and threatened yesterday, she's back.
I'm in no mood for this. "What?"
"Where is he?" she asks.
"I don't know, and I don't care. Just get out of my house. I never had any purpose for an elf, and I surely don't have one for a doll."
"Doll?" Evil laughter follows. "I am no doll. This is merely the appearance I chose to get his attention. I needed a way in here so I could watch him closely." She pauses. "What it it with so many of you males, by the way? All it takes is long hair and a short skirt, and your brains shut down. It's quite pathetic, really."
"So if you've been here all this time...."
She anticipates my question. "I've stayed hidden in that chest filled with the Legos your nephews used to love so much, waiting for the proper moment. I tried going after him several times but was never strong enough to act on my own until the Winter Solstice. Clavicus may have evaded us for the time being, but he knows his days are numbered. And there are several of his brethren around the country that need to be dealt with before Christmas arrives. With my powers at their current peak, I'm needed on other fronts. This may be the last time we see each other, unless he's fool enough to come back here. And if he does, you'd best beware." With a flash of light she was gone.
I went back to bed, hoping this bizarre Christmas toy civil war going on around me was only a dream. If Cinnamon showed his face today, he'd better have some answers.
Day 27
No sign of Cinnamon or Evil Barbie for over 24 hours. Part of me hopes he got away, just because she was so awful and I'd rather not see her win. But on the other hand, considering everything that's happened this month...I don't know he wouldn't deserve whatever he had coming. I keep thinking back to how I never actually heard anything like a slamming door when he broke free the other day. If he did get away, I'm not sure how far he would have made it.
I step out to get the morning paper and see shredded red fuzz scattered around the doormat. No hat, no bits of Cinnamon anywhere. Did he only make it this far before she found him, or is this the sign of another struggle from which he narrowly escaped? Knowing his tenacity, I suspect he's still out there somewhere. But with Christmas Eve only hours away and the Season of the Elf rapidly coming to an end, I can only wonder.
I find this sign on the garage door when backing out to go to school this morning. I hope Cinnamon has a good hiding spot picked out. His days are looking numbered.
My day goes on without as much as a passing thought toward Cinnamon and his shenanigans. I walk out to the mailbox when I get home and find out that now it seems mail addressed to Cinnamon -- from someone who knows him primarily by his Elven name -- is being delivered to my house. Today he received what could be fairly described as a threatening jigsaw puzzle. As a result, his stress level is very high this evening.
Day 23
The arrival of that puzzle last night really got to Cinnamon. I find him sitting back in the sun room this morning, exhausted from trying to shed his anxiety and frustration all night.
"I thought squeezing this tennis ball was supposed to help me get rid of my stress!" he shouts with his demented cartoon chipmunk voice. "It isn't working!"
"Now, you do realize you're sitting in the sun room," I point out, "and you're surrounded by windows, and anyone looking for you would be able to see exactly where you are?"
He closes his stupid plastic eyes and lets the ball roll to the floor. "I don't think it makes a difference anymore," he says, sounding utterly defeated.
Day 24
When I didn't see Cinnamon this morning, I knew better than to hope he had moved on. He hadn't really bounced back from his depressive spiral yesterday and this concerned me; not because I was worried about him, but I didn't want anything damaging going on inside my house.
I began to hear a quiet, low-pitched rumble in the middle of the afternoon. It almost sounded like a poorly-maintained engine idling somewhere down the street, but whenever I stepped outside to try and figure out what it was, it would stop. After some careful exploration, I figured out it was coming from my grandmother's piano, almost as if it were alive and breathing. Then I noticed the hat.
"Why? Are you in the piano?" I ask. He doesn't respond. I slam my palm down on an octave of keys and hear him skittering awake.
"What? What?" he screeches. Raw panic. I don't think he could tell he was trapped in place by the hat. I let him struggle there for a few moments, enjoying the sound of his fright more than I care to admit.
"WHY ARE YOU IN THE PIANO?" I shout.
"What time is it?" he whispers.
"Late afternoon, almost sunset," I said. "Why could you possibly care?"
"I thought over what you said yesterday, about hiding places," he answers. "Today is the Winter Solstice. I need a good hiding place now more than ever before."
"Because?"
"Because?" he repeats, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because? You really can't be this stupid. The Winter Solstice is the longest night of the year, which almost means it's the darkest day of the year. For Dark Elves, this is the day when our powers are the most...heightened."
"Really. And your smiley-faced elf powers are so mighty that you need to hide in a ninety-year-old piano."
"There's only one of me," he finally replies. "There are more of them."
"So I'm guessing you don't get along with the other elves very well."
"They aren't all elves," he says. "It's a guild. The elves just lead it. Or at least we had at one time. I really don't know anymore. Now, please just leave me alone. One way or another you'll be rid of me soon."
And I think, Not soon enough.
Day 25
I left the house early to finally get my Christmas shopping done. It went fast, so I was home sooner than expected. I walk in with my packages to the sound of bloodcurdling shrieks.
"Help me, please!" Cinnamon screams. "They've found me! They're here in the house RIGHT NOW!" I see him sprawled on the floor, restrained in a manner which gives me a moment of pause.
"Where are they?" I ask, setting down my gifts and hurrying into the living room, searching.
"I think...there's only...one," he replies, the strain in his voice evident. I rush down the hallway, more than ready to finally put an end to all of this ridiculousness. No sign of anything or anyone. Just as I turn back I hear a loud grunt and a painful cry. By the time I return to the kitchen, he's gone.
"You shouldn't have done that." A menacing voice fills the room. "Coming in when you did surprised me. You gave him the moment of distraction he needed for escape."
"Yeah, did I?" I answer. "Well, your problem, not mine."
"Unless I decide to make it your problem," came the amused reply.
"Seriously?" I say. "I've had that little freak taking over my life for the past month, and now you really think I'm going to put up with whatever YOU are? Show yourself!"
A figure rises from behind a chair. Twenty-five days ago this sight would have had my jaw dropping to the floor. But now?
"Of course," I say. "You. It makes perfect sense now."
"We'll continue this later," I hear as it vanishes, the sound of the voice trailing off into nothing like dissipating smoke.
Day 26
I'm awake much too early. There's an unfamiliar sound coming from the living room, and immediately I know something is wrong. I stagger out of bed and down the hall. As both promised and threatened yesterday, she's back.
I'm in no mood for this. "What?"
"Where is he?" she asks.
"I don't know, and I don't care. Just get out of my house. I never had any purpose for an elf, and I surely don't have one for a doll."
"Doll?" Evil laughter follows. "I am no doll. This is merely the appearance I chose to get his attention. I needed a way in here so I could watch him closely." She pauses. "What it it with so many of you males, by the way? All it takes is long hair and a short skirt, and your brains shut down. It's quite pathetic, really."
"So if you've been here all this time...."
She anticipates my question. "I've stayed hidden in that chest filled with the Legos your nephews used to love so much, waiting for the proper moment. I tried going after him several times but was never strong enough to act on my own until the Winter Solstice. Clavicus may have evaded us for the time being, but he knows his days are numbered. And there are several of his brethren around the country that need to be dealt with before Christmas arrives. With my powers at their current peak, I'm needed on other fronts. This may be the last time we see each other, unless he's fool enough to come back here. And if he does, you'd best beware." With a flash of light she was gone.
I went back to bed, hoping this bizarre Christmas toy civil war going on around me was only a dream. If Cinnamon showed his face today, he'd better have some answers.
Day 27
No sign of Cinnamon or Evil Barbie for over 24 hours. Part of me hopes he got away, just because she was so awful and I'd rather not see her win. But on the other hand, considering everything that's happened this month...I don't know he wouldn't deserve whatever he had coming. I keep thinking back to how I never actually heard anything like a slamming door when he broke free the other day. If he did get away, I'm not sure how far he would have made it.
I step out to get the morning paper and see shredded red fuzz scattered around the doormat. No hat, no bits of Cinnamon anywhere. Did he only make it this far before she found him, or is this the sign of another struggle from which he narrowly escaped? Knowing his tenacity, I suspect he's still out there somewhere. But with Christmas Eve only hours away and the Season of the Elf rapidly coming to an end, I can only wonder.
THE END
Thursday, December 18, 2014
The Cinnamon Invasion: Week 3
Day 15
"Yay!!" I hear a disturbing scream coming from the next room too early in the morning and I'm startled out of bed. I find Cinnamon with a wide smile on his face. It seems we've made peace, or have at least reached some kind of
compromise. Either way Cinnamon is in far too good of a mood to bother with
any threats, idle or otherwise.
"Check it! This is perfect! They'll never
find me!" he says with a confident swagger that doesn't match his
stupid elf voice. "The perfect disguise!"
Day 16
The Saturday end of a busy week. I'd planned to try and get some Christmas shopping done, but it didn't go well so I gave up and drove home. My neighbor Don was standing out in the yard between our houses, raising a hand in greeting as I park in the driveway.
"I wasn't sure if you were home," he said, nodding toward the house. "I was sure I saw your car leave a few hours ago, but the music is so loud in there we could hear it from our living room." This is no small thing since it's winter and all of the windows on both our houses are closed up tight. I thank Don for his concern. As I walk in through the garage entrance, I'm greeted by an apocalyptic blaring. Cinnamon sits beside my old CD player.
"Dude, why didn't you tell me we had
all this?" he said. "This is SO MUCH better than Burl Ives and Gene Autry and Andy
Williams!!"
Apparently he calls me Dude now. And I can't help but wonder: What exactly does he mean by "we?"
Day 17
"Hey!
HEY!" I hear myself being summoned. "Get a picture of this and put it
on the Internet," Cinnamon tells me, his voice temporarily reduced to a dry gag. "To what purpose?" I ask.
"More effective than a disguise," he replies. "If there's anything about the world that I know for sure, it's that your enemies won't hunt you down if they think you're already dead."
Day 18
Cinnamon was waiting at the front door when I got home.
"Are you alone?" he asks. His voice has a nervous tremor I haven't heard before.
"Yeah, of course I am," I answer. I try the key. The door is barricaded from the inside.
"Are you really alone?!" he demands. "I'm not joking around here!"
"Yes, I'm alone! Open the door, you twerp! It's raining!"
I barely get inside before he slams the door and locks it again. He looks up at me with haunted eyes.
"They found me," he croaks. "We aren't safe anymore."
There he goes with that "we" business again....
"Are you alone?" he asks. His voice has a nervous tremor I haven't heard before.
"Yeah, of course I am," I answer. I try the key. The door is barricaded from the inside.
"Are you really alone?!" he demands. "I'm not joking around here!"
"Yes, I'm alone! Open the door, you twerp! It's raining!"
I barely get inside before he slams the door and locks it again. He looks up at me with haunted eyes.
"They found me," he croaks. "We aren't safe anymore."
There he goes with that "we" business again....
Day 19
A
burning smell as I enter the house, and my fight or flight response
activates. Something left on a furnace grate? A forgotten candle? Is my house safe?!
"HELP!!!" A scream from the kitchen. Cinnamon's enemies must've found their way in. I quickly remove him, mostly to prevent any further damage to the grill. "Put me...on the tree...." he pants. "Time on...the Christmas tree...only way...to heal...for certain...."
Reluctantly I comply.
"HELP!!!" A scream from the kitchen. Cinnamon's enemies must've found their way in. I quickly remove him, mostly to prevent any further damage to the grill. "Put me...on the tree...." he pants. "Time on...the Christmas tree...only way...to heal...for certain...."
Reluctantly I comply.
Day 20
This
morning I find Cinnamon impaled by an ornament and
lying motionless on a plate as if he's been served up. This happened while I slept? I hadn't heard a thing. Oddly enough he seems to have something like maple syrup leaking from his body instead of blood, and somehow this doesn't surprise me. (At least it smelled like maple syrup; I wasn't about to taste it.)
I don't like the
thought of his enemies being able to enter my house at will,
particularly in the middle of the night. There's no way this can end
well.
"...tree, again..." he pleads, barely with the strength to speak. "...please... hurry...."
"...tree, again..." he pleads, barely with the strength to speak. "...please... hurry...."
Day 21
There's no sign of Cinnamon anywhere this morning and I think, maybe he crawled off to die somewhere.
No such luck.
"Take me with you!" he pleads. "I'm not safe here alone!"
"Take me with you!" he pleads. "I'm not safe here alone!"
"Dude, they stabbed you when I was here, sleeping. I don't think I'm really much help."
He unconsciously pats at his side, mumbling something about how that was only a warning. "I just...I don't know what to do."
"Well," I tell him, "I've invested a lot of time into crafting a safe and welcoming classroom environment, and you represent a variable I am not comfortable introducing into that. Maybe you want to think of a better hiding place than sitting on the kitchen counter and staring out the window."
I pick him up and carry him back inside. He's still too weak from his injuries to struggle.
He unconsciously pats at his side, mumbling something about how that was only a warning. "I just...I don't know what to do."
"Well," I tell him, "I've invested a lot of time into crafting a safe and welcoming classroom environment, and you represent a variable I am not comfortable introducing into that. Maybe you want to think of a better hiding place than sitting on the kitchen counter and staring out the window."
I pick him up and carry him back inside. He's still too weak from his injuries to struggle.
One week until Christmas. Part of me wants to see how all of this ends, while another part just wants it all to end....
Thursday, December 11, 2014
The Cinnamon Invasion: Week 2
Day 8
Well, Cinnamon is back this morning. And it seems he's made a new friend. And I'm going to have to burn my favorite sweatshirt now.
Day 9
I've reached the point where now it's more about what curiosities I'll discover in the morning instead of if there will be any. Cinnamon greets me inside the front door, all cheery and smiling. "Happy St. Nicholas Day!" he yells, with his usual high-pitched dentist drill of a voice.
"St. Nicholas Day?" I ask, rubbing the sleep out of my face.
"Yeah, you know, treats in the shoes, that whole thing! December 6th! That's today!"
His description triggers a vague childhood memory. "So you're saying St. Nicholas came here last night?"
He laughs indulgently. "Of course not. He tried, but I kept the place locked down -- sanctuary and all, you know. It wouldn't be safe to let just anyone in here. I took care of business myself instead."
I see my shoes beside the front door. "Pizza?" I ask. "That's my treat?"
"You like pizza, right? Everyone does!"
I lean in for a closer look at the other shoe. "And...a vitamin?"
"Yeah!" he says, enthusiastically. "Because, health!"
I walk away, shaking my head and mentally adding shoe-shopping to my To Do List for the day.
Day 10
I managed to get the Christmas tree up today. Cinnamon's reaction was not at all what I expected. "It's happening too soon," I overheard him say, as if thinking aloud. "I'm not ready yet." I thought, "HA! Join the club, you little monster. Nobody's ready for Christmas yet. I haven't even started shopping."
By the time darkness settled in, he had checked the lock on each door at least twice, then began standing vigil at the patio door. "It's only a matter of time until they find me," he whispered, seemingly oblivious that I was even in the room....
Day 11
It seems Movie Night was going on while I was sleeping. I was much more comfortable with the idea of Cinnamon being potentially influenced by holiday cartoons from the 1960s.
For some reason this reminded me of my first fight with Tyler....
Day 12
I found Cinnamon staring at the wall. Before I could even ask, he said, "I just wanted to watch something burn."
Day 13
I found Cinnamon in the kitchen when I got home. "I wrote you a poem today," he said. "I hope you like it."
I'm sleeping with the bedroom door locked tonight.
Day 14
I came home to the sound of maniacal laughter echoing from the office. Cinnamon was sitting beside my desktop, looking a little too self-satisfied.
"What did you do?" I asked, my mind scrolling through too many bad possibilities.
He laughed some more, then suddenly went stoic. "I learned today that you've been posting pictures of me all over the Internet. Since I have made my needs for sanctuary abundantly clear, I was greatly displeased by this and decided you needed to be taught a lesson. Therefore, certain contacts found in your address book have experienced, shall we say, 'slight technical difficulties' today."
"Okay, whatever, enough with the vague sanctuary talk," I replied. "Just cut to the chase. Why do you need sanctuary? Who or what are you hiding from?"
He sighed. "If I tell you, you won't ever be able to go back to a time when you didn't know. And you might end up regretting that."
I left the room, refusing to take the bait. I can only hope this nonsense will resolve itself by Christmas.
Will the madness ever end??? Tune in next week! Same elf-time, same elf-blog....
Well, Cinnamon is back this morning. And it seems he's made a new friend. And I'm going to have to burn my favorite sweatshirt now.
Day 9
I've reached the point where now it's more about what curiosities I'll discover in the morning instead of if there will be any. Cinnamon greets me inside the front door, all cheery and smiling. "Happy St. Nicholas Day!" he yells, with his usual high-pitched dentist drill of a voice.
"St. Nicholas Day?" I ask, rubbing the sleep out of my face.
"Yeah, you know, treats in the shoes, that whole thing! December 6th! That's today!"
His description triggers a vague childhood memory. "So you're saying St. Nicholas came here last night?"
He laughs indulgently. "Of course not. He tried, but I kept the place locked down -- sanctuary and all, you know. It wouldn't be safe to let just anyone in here. I took care of business myself instead."
I see my shoes beside the front door. "Pizza?" I ask. "That's my treat?"
"You like pizza, right? Everyone does!"
I lean in for a closer look at the other shoe. "And...a vitamin?"
"Yeah!" he says, enthusiastically. "Because, health!"
I walk away, shaking my head and mentally adding shoe-shopping to my To Do List for the day.
Day 10
I managed to get the Christmas tree up today. Cinnamon's reaction was not at all what I expected. "It's happening too soon," I overheard him say, as if thinking aloud. "I'm not ready yet." I thought, "HA! Join the club, you little monster. Nobody's ready for Christmas yet. I haven't even started shopping."
By the time darkness settled in, he had checked the lock on each door at least twice, then began standing vigil at the patio door. "It's only a matter of time until they find me," he whispered, seemingly oblivious that I was even in the room....
Day 11
It seems Movie Night was going on while I was sleeping. I was much more comfortable with the idea of Cinnamon being potentially influenced by holiday cartoons from the 1960s.
For some reason this reminded me of my first fight with Tyler....
Day 12
I found Cinnamon staring at the wall. Before I could even ask, he said, "I just wanted to watch something burn."
I found Cinnamon in the kitchen when I got home. "I wrote you a poem today," he said. "I hope you like it."
I'm sleeping with the bedroom door locked tonight.
Day 14
I came home to the sound of maniacal laughter echoing from the office. Cinnamon was sitting beside my desktop, looking a little too self-satisfied.
"What did you do?" I asked, my mind scrolling through too many bad possibilities.
He laughed some more, then suddenly went stoic. "I learned today that you've been posting pictures of me all over the Internet. Since I have made my needs for sanctuary abundantly clear, I was greatly displeased by this and decided you needed to be taught a lesson. Therefore, certain contacts found in your address book have experienced, shall we say, 'slight technical difficulties' today."
"Okay, whatever, enough with the vague sanctuary talk," I replied. "Just cut to the chase. Why do you need sanctuary? Who or what are you hiding from?"
He sighed. "If I tell you, you won't ever be able to go back to a time when you didn't know. And you might end up regretting that."
I left the room, refusing to take the bait. I can only hope this nonsense will resolve itself by Christmas.
Will the madness ever end??? Tune in next week! Same elf-time, same elf-blog....
Thursday, December 4, 2014
The Cinnamon Invasion: Week 1
I’ve always enjoyed the holiday season, but this year it’s turning out to be something very different, and not necessarily in the merriest of ways.
Day 1
Thanksgiving had been a great day, full of family, laughter, football, dogs, and pie. I drove home that night through the unseasonably frigid temperatures and went to bed feeling full and content and loved. Then I woke the next morning and saw this creepy little thing perched by the television, staring me down. I recognized it as one of those disturbing “Elf on the Shelf” misfits, but the thing is -- I don't own one. I don’t mind saying I was a little freaked out. I mean, look at it. I know there are families that love to get all Pinterested up this time of year with stuff like this, but to have one of these awful things just show up in your house? Not cool. I went on with my day and did the best I could to ignore it, because there was no way I was going to touch the thing.
Day 2
I had almost forgotten about my interloping red bag of horrible when I went to bed Friday night and thought I was in the clear Saturday morning...until I walked into the kitchen and found it waiting for me. It sat on the kitchen table with the strangest handwritten note beside it: "I seek sanctuary. My Elven name is Clavicus Hrothgar, Overlord of the Darkness Guild. But perhaps it'd be best if you simply called me Cinnamon."
Cinnamon? I don’t know if that’s any less creepy than that other name. “Cinnamon” didn’t exactly specify what he needs sanctuary for, but I didn’t feel terribly compelled to grant it. Before I could tell him to get out of my house, he was gone. I didn’t see him again for the rest of the day.
Day 3
I found Cinnamon sitting vigilantly by the kitchen window this morning, quietly muttering to himself, "They're coming....they're coming....I know they're coming." This is not reassuring. I wish I had some idea who “they” are supposed to be.
Day 4
My first day back to work after the Thanksgiving break. I get home to find this scene.
Oh, Cinnamon...I just...I don't even want to know....I can only hope all of this was enough to quiet whatever demons are plaguing your tormented elven spirit. Especially now that I have to finish off the leftover pie without any Reddi-Wip.
Day 5
For once there was no sign of Cinnamon when I woke up this morning, or when I got home from work in the evening. In fact, I had almost successfully banished the idea of him from my head altogether. Just when I was settling in for the evening, figuring I was finally in the clear, I heard the television turn on all by itself, which never happens because my house isn’t haunted. I walked to the living room to see what the deal was and turn it off when I heard a low, threatening growl coming from the edge of the coffee table behind me: "You will NOT. Touch that remote."
Day 6
After what I now think of as The Charlie Brown Incident, my sleep last night was frequently interrupted by unsettling nightmares. By the time I woke, I'd all but decided to send Cinnamon on his way, maybe even with the trash pick-up tomorrow. When I got out of bed to do some early work on revisions I found this, and noticed a recently recorded voice memo on my phone: "You didn't know I can see your dreams, did you? Do you ever want to work on your clever little story again? I think a few weeks of sanctuary would be a fair trade for your new password. Or, should I say, OUR new password."
What choice do I really have? And again, I'm wondering: Sanctuary from who? Or what? If whatever he’s hiding from would get him out of my life, I’d almost be ready to put up a neon sign outside the front door to guide the way.
Day 7
There was no sign of Cinnamon this morning. I’m learning to trust the mild anxiety that follows when that happens. Sure enough, I find another message on the iPad when I get home. Paraphrased, because it was kind of scattered and written in more fonts than I knew the iPad had available: "Haha I found the candy hidden in the bathroom and finished it off! It tasted awful but I feel great! I'm going on a pizza run, back later!!"
Is Cinnamon gone forever, or will tonight just be a temporary respite for me? Tune in next week to find out!!
Day 1
Thanksgiving had been a great day, full of family, laughter, football, dogs, and pie. I drove home that night through the unseasonably frigid temperatures and went to bed feeling full and content and loved. Then I woke the next morning and saw this creepy little thing perched by the television, staring me down. I recognized it as one of those disturbing “Elf on the Shelf” misfits, but the thing is -- I don't own one. I don’t mind saying I was a little freaked out. I mean, look at it. I know there are families that love to get all Pinterested up this time of year with stuff like this, but to have one of these awful things just show up in your house? Not cool. I went on with my day and did the best I could to ignore it, because there was no way I was going to touch the thing.
Day 2
I had almost forgotten about my interloping red bag of horrible when I went to bed Friday night and thought I was in the clear Saturday morning...until I walked into the kitchen and found it waiting for me. It sat on the kitchen table with the strangest handwritten note beside it: "I seek sanctuary. My Elven name is Clavicus Hrothgar, Overlord of the Darkness Guild. But perhaps it'd be best if you simply called me Cinnamon."
Day 3
I found Cinnamon sitting vigilantly by the kitchen window this morning, quietly muttering to himself, "They're coming....they're coming....I know they're coming." This is not reassuring. I wish I had some idea who “they” are supposed to be.
Day 4
My first day back to work after the Thanksgiving break. I get home to find this scene.
Oh, Cinnamon...I just...I don't even want to know....I can only hope all of this was enough to quiet whatever demons are plaguing your tormented elven spirit. Especially now that I have to finish off the leftover pie without any Reddi-Wip.
Day 5
For once there was no sign of Cinnamon when I woke up this morning, or when I got home from work in the evening. In fact, I had almost successfully banished the idea of him from my head altogether. Just when I was settling in for the evening, figuring I was finally in the clear, I heard the television turn on all by itself, which never happens because my house isn’t haunted. I walked to the living room to see what the deal was and turn it off when I heard a low, threatening growl coming from the edge of the coffee table behind me: "You will NOT. Touch that remote."
Day 6
After what I now think of as The Charlie Brown Incident, my sleep last night was frequently interrupted by unsettling nightmares. By the time I woke, I'd all but decided to send Cinnamon on his way, maybe even with the trash pick-up tomorrow. When I got out of bed to do some early work on revisions I found this, and noticed a recently recorded voice memo on my phone: "You didn't know I can see your dreams, did you? Do you ever want to work on your clever little story again? I think a few weeks of sanctuary would be a fair trade for your new password. Or, should I say, OUR new password."
What choice do I really have? And again, I'm wondering: Sanctuary from who? Or what? If whatever he’s hiding from would get him out of my life, I’d almost be ready to put up a neon sign outside the front door to guide the way.
Day 7
There was no sign of Cinnamon this morning. I’m learning to trust the mild anxiety that follows when that happens. Sure enough, I find another message on the iPad when I get home. Paraphrased, because it was kind of scattered and written in more fonts than I knew the iPad had available: "Haha I found the candy hidden in the bathroom and finished it off! It tasted awful but I feel great! I'm going on a pizza run, back later!!"
Is Cinnamon gone forever, or will tonight just be a temporary respite for me? Tune in next week to find out!!
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