Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time…

I cleaned my entire apartment today.  Always good to do that after the holidays.  I took down most of the decorations, save for a wreath my parents sent me and a few lights that seem acceptable through the first of the year.  On an impulse, I moved some of my living room furniture into the kitchen and put one of my kitchen tables where my coffee table was.  Don’t ask.  It was time for a change.  And if ever there were a time to get strange, I believe it’s now.

Though I wasn’t able to be with my family this year, I managed to make the most of Christmas.  I took my weekly earned leave on Christmas Eve.  I drove with a friend to Venice Beach to walk along the ocean.  I would have loved nothing more than to strip down and jump into the waves, but of course I couldn’t do that with my ankle bracelet.

We parked and set off down the walkway, taking in all of the expected sites and characters of the infamous Venice strip.  I bought two pairs of cheap sunglasses.  I always like to buy more than one at a time because I systematically break them.

Though I’ve become used to people staring at my ankle, this was by far the most notice I’ve seen it attract.  With almost no exception, every person who passed us along the boardwalk stared shamelessly at my ankle and oftentimes even pointed.  At least 5 people approached me to ask what the hell I did to get it.  Strange interactions.

As we strolled past Muscle Beach, a group of guys hollered to me, “how’d you sneak out?!”   I smiled politely and walked on.  People kept wanting us to stop and talk, but we had little time or interest to spare.  Despite the severe reality of my situation, we couldn’t help but laugh at the attention.  It was Christmas Eve, and I was happy to be out of my apartment and near the ocean.

I had friends over last night for Christmas dinner. I continue to be grateful to be able to have visitors here.

In other news, there is an exciting addition to the gym in my apartment building (which I am permitted to go to as long as I call my PO first and stay no more than an hour). We now have a punching bag for boxing.  I’m told it will be set up in the next day or so.  I feel like it could be well advised for me to get some boxing gloves.  Granted, I do live off of Crenshaw Blvd, so that’s probably well advised regardless.

That’s all the news that’s fit to print for today.  Merry Christmas, and happy Hannukah. xo

316 days to go.



“My place, or my place?”

Dating is going to be interesting this year.  I suppose that it’s generally pretty “interesting” anyway, for good or ill, but I can’t help but wonder what kind of unsavory relations could be lurking around the corner of 2012.  At times, dating can seem hopelessly complicated for anyone, but dating in Los Angeles is widely considered to be- well, flat out hopeless.  That’s under normal circumstances.

I happen to be on a court-ordered house arrest that requires me to spend an egregious amount of time in my apartment, and a very unfortunate share of that tethered to an outlet.  That could be a strike against me.  Then again, it’s possible that I could find a guy who is a huge Star Wars fan and I could be like Princess Leia in chains, waiting to be saved.  We could make it work.  I hope he looks like Han Solo.  But sadly, we all pretty much know the stats on how often Star Wars fans look like Han Solo.

There is always the option of revisiting old flames that have long ago burned out, and each of you deciding that for a week, or even just for an evening, you are going to forget all of the reasons why this relationship didn’t last in the first place.  At the very least, you will do each other the favor of pretending not to remember.  The truth is, though, you always will remember, and the brief reunion will probably serve as a friendly reminder.  If you can have fun and walk away with your emotions honestly still intact, then sometimes it can be fun to call up an ex.  Especially given my current travel restrictions, something to appreciate about exes is that they are usually willing to deliver.

My opportunities to meet anyone new have dwindled down to the rare moments that I’m unleashed onto the community to roam freely, like during approved grocery shopping.  I was recently advised by a male friend of mine that Whole Foods is a great place to meet people, and that he can usually land a number or two near the salad bar.  I guess I can see that.  The salad bar is part of that whole ready-to-eat section.  People there are ready.  Ready to eat, and who knows what else?  I could just head someone off at the couscous and make him an offer.

At least for now, I’m going to hold off on any rash behavior.  I’ve still got 11 months of house arrest to endure, though, so I reserve the right to get creative.  Nonetheless, it might be a while before I resort to cornering unsuspecting shoppers at Whole Foods in hopes of finding my Han Solo.

331 days to go.

Hot Water

It’s so cold tonight.  The heater is broken in my wood-floored apartment, and the weather this week has been subzero by LA standards.  When I got home from work, I immediately jumped into a hot shower in an effort to warm up.  The shower helped, but what I really wanted was a bath.  Not only was I freezing; I was also incredibly tired, and wanted nothing more than to sink to my nose in a long, steamy bath.  The little guy is water-resistant, not waterproof, so it can’t be fully submerged in water, ever.  Oh- and it can never come off, ever.  For the entire year.

I technically could take a bath, just on the one condition that I keep my left ankle propped up the entire time.  Kind of awkward, but if I hadn’t been so tired tonight, I would have said game on and made it work.  I’ll take a slight discomfort if it means having my bath.  However, that wasn’t my biggest concern.  When I’m exhausted and get into a bath, I get so relaxed that I tend to fall asleep.

I kept having this horrible vision of me dozing off in the bathtub, letting my ankle bracelet slip into the water and lose signal, then ten minutes later my door gets kicked down by an armed SWAT team that promptly cuffs me and drags me out of the bathtub and back to the slammer.  If ever there were a time to be naked and handcuffed, this isn’t it.

This particular set of consequences has taken many things from me.  Tonight, it was a bath.

335 days to go.