Day Five of Slogging Out the Gratitude

So, the jack hammer is still going, Sophie had a super ugly big seizure this morning that caused some tension among the members of our tribe, and my house looks so much like a Christmas store that I've decided to put on my Santa apron instead of clothes and surrender. Despite these problems, though -- and with the exception of the seizure, they are first world problems which is a problem unto itself -- I'm slogging out the gratitude alongside my friend Jeneva, and today I'm grateful to live in Los Angeles and down the street from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA). I put Sophie in her wheelchair and walked there this afternoon, strolled around the magnificent Alexander Calder exhibit and then stood and gazed quietly at some of the most beautiful photography one could possibly imagine from every era in the history of photography. I'm grateful for art, much of which I don't understand or have little knowledge, but speaks to me just the same, invigorates my eye and calms my soul.

• I'm grateful for my strong and healthy constitution.

• I'm grateful for the card that Ms. Moon sent me of the Airstream trailer on the beach that now graces my blog and that is testament to our friendship.
• I'm grateful for the opportunity to go to the movies on a Saturday afternoon, especially when it's a perfect movie about love, longing, regret and is directed by and stars Ralph Fiennes.
• I'm grateful for my perfect score of loving bloggers in person as well as on the page and for getting to personally meet one of my favorites today, Brittany Tuttle.
• I'm grateful to live in Los Angeles and down the street from LACMA, and I'm grateful for art that invigorates my eye and calms my soul.

This is still happening and we have not struck oil, yet

It might very well serve as my grave, though.

This happened, part five

Digging commenced.

I was settling in to listen to the last fifteen minutes of the movie Her when my phone vibrated persistently from home. I scurried down the aisle and called home, listened to Henry tell me that Sophie had hurt her head during a seizure, that the babysitter was with her and she was all right, but could I come home and I kept walking out of the theater and drove home like -- like what? Like a bat out of a hell? Like a woman on fire? Like a mother traumatized by this insane life?

I won't attach a photo of the goose egg on Sophie's forehead that she got as a result of the drop seizure in her bedroom because I squirm when I see those very explicit shots that people share on the blogosphere. It was traumatic, though, and I now feel as if the pick-axe the guy wielded all day on the side of my house has entered my own head. Other than that, Sophie seems all right so I guess we'll have to be all right, too.

A friend posted on Facebook that 2013 was the second worst year of her life, and I know that the worst year of her life was pretty damn horrible. She also posted that she was going to eke out gratitude for the remaining six days of the year. Perhaps I should do the same.

I'm grateful for my strong and healthy constitution.

Report from Santa-Land

Aside from getting an estimate this morning from The Plumber Guy that surpassed the initial estimate by several thousand dollars, the one that provoked my stripping naked and running down the street screaming, today proved to be better than yesterday. A very close friend brought his Guy over to take a look at the Plumbing Troubles, and he will be able to do the job for far less money. We might even consider having The Brothers help to dig the trenches around the house over Christmas vacation. I'll wield a camera and take some photos in the Selgado vein.

We shall see.

That aside, I needed to get busy for a small party that we're having tomorrow night. I considered cancelling in the throes of despair last night, but The Husband told me that I was insane (even though I am already insane as he will not even be at the party), so I spent today baking and preparing for the festivities. Here are some Chocolate Rye Cookies with Maldon Sea Salt. I'm also making Pecan Puffs, Chocolaty Chip Cookies and Rolled Sugar Cookies. There will be soup, bread, cheese and olives. We will carol in our snowy Los Angeles neighborhood, bundled up against the 52 degree chill.

Here are some cheerful shots of our house which over the years has grown to resemble one of those Christmas stores that you see on resort islands (the resort islands that I regularly visit). It all sort of makes me nauseous and happy -- and you know me: very, very capable of holding those paradoxical feelings at once!

Here's the Owl ornament that I've had since 1972. Reader, I've been collecting owls for longer than some of you have been alive and certainly well before they became a thing. Have I ever told you about my owl shag rug that I hooked myself?

There's an Elf that I've had for far longer -- maybe the 1960s? It's the genuine article -- not that horrid little Elf on a Shelf business.

Here's our tree, and I have no idea what the sparkly lights are doing. I suppose it's another Christmas miracle, making up for the Plumbing Troubles.

Oh, and here's the life-sized Santa, because every tiny California bungalow should have at least one.

And then there's me, looking wan with freshly waxed eyebrows:

What are ya'll doing?