It’s a jolly holiday with you
Bored Jews all over the globe have a few major choices to make at Christmastime: what movie to watch, which fine Chinese restaurant to patronize and what brand of cellophane to use for wrapping our cats. I recommend Saran.
However, I was faced with one unexpected decision – whether or not to tell you about my very own Christmas miracle. Which I’m not sure I can call a “Christmas miracle” for complex theological reasons. But Jesus was Jewish and I’m technically an atheist and my Christmas miracle began during Hanukkah and involves a former Lutheran, so we’re treading in some sort of religious gray area here and Winter Solstice Situation doesn’t have the same ring to it. If all else fails, I’m calling it a Kwanzaa Circumstance.
But the truth is, and I have wanted to share this for weeks because it’s really all I can think about and making me incredibly happy, I am the opposite of “Alone … with cats” this holiday season. I have a lovely new girlfriend named Lindsay. And she has a dog.
Yeah. I know. Let’s all take a minute to let that sink in. A dog.
I wrote about Lindsay once before, but when I outed her as a blog reader-turned-pen pal in Canada who bears an uncanny resemblance to my septuagenarian dream girl Julie Andrews, I neglected to confess that we’d already started to schedule phone dates, text like teenagers and plan our first meeting. I wanted us to have some time to ourselves. And to not jinx it by writing about it too soon. And I didn’t want to get a reputation as the blogger who flies in readers from other countries for dates. Or do I?
Lindsay and I met the first weekend of December at the airport. I pulled up to the curb in the terminal and then called her. I saw her walking toward me from a few hundred feet away, giant grin on her face, and she wrapped her arms around me and whispered, “Are you nervous?” I said, “Yes.” She responded, “Don’t be.” Then I wasn’t anymore.
With anticipation building between us for weeks, we knew her trip to Boston would be chock full of … sightseeing. So let me just say, there were sights and we saw them. I had forgotten how good sightseeing could be with the right person.
My friend Emily asked me the other day, “Did you immediately have [sightseeing] as planned?” And I was all, “OMG! We’re not animals! We had a glass of wine first.”
Lindsay exceeded expectations in other ways, too. She’s attentive and loving and smart and sensitive and kind. She makes me laugh. She opens drinks for me and wipes smudges off my glasses and makes the bed and folds my pajamas and balls up my socks. Isabel didn’t once try to stand on her neck and suffocate her in her sleep; I cannot stress how huge that is. And after Lindsay went home, one of the first things she did was buy a crocheted toy shaped like a tampon for Teva and Isabel on Etsy. It’s as if she knows the way to my heart is through my cats. I’m not sure what gave her that idea.
And the best part is that I don’t have to change the name of my blog because she lives so far away that technically I’ll still be Alone … with cats most of the time. Or maybe the best part is that our feelings are mutual. It’s kind of a toss up.
Our story of crossing paths by way of blogging is rather surreal, though. I look at photos of her, and have to constantly remind myself that the gorgeous girl in the picture is mine. Sometimes it feels as if I willed her into my life, or that I posted criteria on my blog of what I hoped for in an ideal partner, and it magically made its way to her. Like when Jane and Michael write a wish list of all they want in a nanny and their dad tears it up and throws it into the fireplace, and the scraps of paper float up the chimney and find their way to Mary Poppins, who is, in fact, practically perfect in every way.
Did you really think I could make it through this post without an allusion to Julie Andrews? (Her husband, Blake Edwards, sadly passed away last week, and that’s just my luck because now I’m *not* single. Universe, how you toy with me.)
Although Lindsay and I live 429 miles apart, the distance between us doesn’t seem to be an issue. Not yet, anyway. For now, it’s plenty satisfying knowing that someone out there in the world whom I think is wonderful thinks I’m wonderful, too. Like the duet “Unforgettable” between Natalie and Nat King Cole, basically. Except she’s not my father. And not dead. And neither one of us is a crackhead. Otherwise, it’s *just* like that. Also, we could totally be crackheads if we wanted to be. That’s the beauty of a long-distance relationship.
So, what’s next? For starters, I’m flying to Toronto on Dec. 31 to be with her for New Year’s. I’ve heard Canada is *the* place to be in the dead of winter. And also, the sightseeing there is pretty fucking fantastic.
And beyond that?
We’ll fall madly in love. We’ll live happily ever after. We’ll live happily ever after … with cats and dog.
Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
P.S. This is my last post of the year. I’ll be traveling to see my family in Cleveland and then continuing on to Canada. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for an amazing 2010. Teva, Isabel and I are wishing you lots of love and happiness and kittens and Christmas miracles in 2011. We’ll see you on the flip side.