Hometown for the holidays

The luggage is unpacked, the post-vacation melancholy is hovering in the air and the cat is atop his tower with visions of cat treats dancing in his head.

In spite of booking a hotel with two separate rooms--one for grandma, one for me--so I could steal away unnoticed and retain my privacy, I was lassoed in with the family for most of the trip. That's not a terrible thing, but I only got to spend one night with VPA and Aaron at Babycakes, a new cupcake and sweet drinks bar in The Crest that replaced a coffeeshop. This was partly my fault as I got there just two days before Christmas eve, so there was not a chance to hang with Renee and Rachelle, whom I have not seen in ages, because they, like most everyone else, were with their respective families. So we did the usual kind of banal stuff, going to Horton Plaza, Hotel del Coronado, Balboa Park and Seaport Village.

My sister's new little baby had colon problem, so was in intensive care the whole time. She and my mom were pretty emotionally exhausted and it was a bummer that I couldn't see and hold the little guy, though God bless cell phones 'cause they've taken several pictures. His surgery was today and it went well, so we're hoping for the best.

I seemed to have spent a small fortune, primarily on food, as I treated everyone to dinner a few times and discovered just today that I paid for grandma's valet parking for the duration of her stay. So much for getting that one credit card bill down to a decent balance, but it's got a low interest rate and hell, it's the holidays.

I drank like a fish, too. I am also approaching this fact with the same sort of laissez-faire attitude as my finances, but am reminded by my encroaching girth that it will be of necessity to do the four days a week at the gym routine I had been so committed to the first three-fourths of this year.

I still have another nine days of fun and freedom to be had in the City. Tifferbee's birthday is next week, and I'm taking her to the chi chi French restaurant across the street and possibly cocktails at the Top of the Mark. Any chance to be bourgie, I'll take it.

VPA will be in town on the thirtieth, so we will most assuredly do Martuni's.

Twenty fourteen has been a good year, but they've all been good years for the past several years. I just keep waiting for some awful, fucked up thing to happen like an earthquake or heart attack or a car crash to wipe it all away. But thus far, I manage unscathed. Twenty fifteen will likely be somewhat tame as I need to commit to paying off my debt (weren't we just in this pickle?), but am already looking forward to next Christmas where we'll have baby Jay and my other sister's new baby with us all. And VPA and Mark are potentially aiming for November for their wedding. Tremendous.

I shall now go collapse in a vodka-soaked heap on the divan.