Christmas!

I think I need to seek psychiatric help for my overactive imagination. I spent a week at my grandparents house in Connecticut for Christmas. Back in the day, when I was 7 or 8 years old I was sleeping downstairs in the basement. Alex was downstairs too and we had little twin beds side by side. I fell asleep early one night and woke up around 2 in the morning to a woman--I swear!!-- looking at me from the end of my bed. I was scared beyond belief. This woman had pitch black hair, bright purple eyeshadow, and long red fingernails. I can still see her in my head and it freaks the living daylights out of me. I closed my eyes and covered my head with the comforter and prayed. When I summoned the courage to peek at my toes again, she was gone so I raced upstairs to sleep with my mom. This holiday my aunt and uncle got the basement and I slept in my grandma's sewing room--a room adjacent to my parents' bedroom. Every night when I was tucked into my little cot, I tried to make that transition to dreamland as quickly as possible because I jumped out of my skin at every little bump or creak. By the end of the week my muscles were sore from being so tense. I haven't even watched a scary movie recently. Why do I do that? I think it stems back from that experience and my fear of someday finding out who that woman is.

Aside from the backache, the holiday was amazing and filled with cousins and family that I really cherish but don't get to see. It was the first time that side of my family had been together since I was 4 months old. 21 years later, I'd say we were due for a Christmas together. One of my highlights is that my grandpa, who is a historian and tells fascinating stories, took us on a late night tour Christmas Eve to look at all of the old captains houses and see Christmas decorations. Decorations are so different over there! It is rare to find a house that has plastic reindeer out front or lights adorning the gutters. Instead, the historic houses place a candle in every window of the house. The architecture is so OLD and a lot of the houses sport plaques that reveal the year the house was built and by whom. The snow on the bare trees combined with knee-high stone walls that run parallel to the streets created a huge feeling of nostalgia...for what, I don't know having never spent a Christmas on the East Coast. Maybe in a previous life I was colonial. Whatever, it was beautiful.

All in all, a great Christmas. I'm switching gears pretty quickly to embark on a ski adventure with some great friends. I'm really looking forward to welcoming the new year with friends and squeezing the last few drops of fun out of break before hell breaks loose next quarter.

Peace to everyone and safe travels.

R-