Stacy Horn

Playing around, trying to be creative here. That’s an extreme close-up of one of my new ornaments, my favorite one. It’s fun putting up a tree, a fake tree, but it’s not very pretty in the end, I don’t think. And it doesn’t have the nostalgia appeal of a real tree. Maybe I should get a real tree. I will ponder this.

So, today is the big Bad Haircut Undo Day. Not too much pressure on this stylist, ha. But please please please let me get a decent haircut today. In other news: a friend of mine just decided out of the blue to go to Mexico for Christmas. I’ve always wanted to do something like that, just take off for the holidays. And now she is. I can’t help feeling she is living the life I only dream about.

I’ve got to get up off my ass. It’s not like I’m going to live forever. Except, maybe I need to get up off my ass in different ways, and not take off for vacations.

I had such a terrible day yesterday, oh man oh man. My editor wants a new opening for the book, which is fine, so I started working on it yesterday. But it just wouldn’t come together and I refused to give up and I kept working on it and working on it, hour after hour after hour — and you have to realize we’re only talking a few paragraphs, not a whole new chapter — but I worked the whole damn day and night and it just kept getting worse and worse and worse and I couldn’t stop. I knew I would feel terrible unless I got it into shape. Finally I had to throw in the towel. I had to force myself to give up. You may have beat me now New Beginning, but I will be back. For those who decide to read the book when it comes out — know that I suffered for those measly opening paragraphs, whatever they turn out to be.

It’s just that they’re so important. Someone is going to pick up your book in a bookstore, take a look at the first few paragraphs and if you don’t somehow grab them immediately, you’re dead.

My plan is to have a better day today, except I have no hot water AGAIN, so we’re not off to a good start. Can’t shower. But The March of the Wooden Soldiers is on a 9, and while I don’t like that movie, except for the scene at the end when the wooden soldiers come to life, I will have it on for nostalgia’s sake. Which brings me to the title of today’s post. It comes from a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel, I’m not sure which, although for the record, 100 Years of Solitude is my favorite book of all time. In whichever book it is, everyone in a town is infected with the “nostalgia disease” and will die if not cured. When I first read that I thought, ‘oh, that will be me.’ I do love to wallow in nostalgia,

Here are the words from Toyland from The March of the Wooden Soldiers. They are actually kinda depressing!

When you’ve grown up, my dears,
And are as old as I,
You’ll often ponder on the years
That roll so swiftly by, my dears,
That roll so swiftly by.

And all the many lands
You will have journeyed through
You’ll oft recall,
The best of all,
The land your childhood knew
Your childhood knew.

Toyland, toyland,
Little girl and boy land,
While you dwell within it,
You are ever happy then.
Childhood, joyland,
Mystic merry toyland,
Once you pass its borders,
You can ne’er return again.

Although you can’t tell by this picture, every book and every item on these shelves is thoroughly dusted. I’m tired. I’m almost done with my holiday cleaning. I’ve got one tiny drawer that needs cleaning out and organizing.

After that I go through all my clothes and try once more to pare down to only things that I actually wear AND look good. Is anyone watching Tim Gunn’s new show? Because he says we really only need about a dozen items in our closets. Or something like that. I agree. A few basics, and then extras for variety’s sake. That reminds me, I found the perfect jeans at J. Crew. I keep meaning to upload a picture.

The last thing I do is put up decorations, including the desk sized tree which Finney and Buddy treat like a fancy cat toy holder. Every year they get a few bulbs and break them. When everything is done I do something pampering. This year it will be a pedicure.

Except I’m also getting a haircut on Saturday. I’ve been waiting and waiting and waiting for a new haircut ever since I got that disastrous cut in May. The new person I’m going to said I had to grow it out first, it was so horrendous she couldn’t do anything with it. I hope there’s enough for her to work with. Maybe I will take a picture and wear the jeans and kill two birds with one stone (terrible expression, and I just used it).

I was reading about somebody’s post 9/11 idiosyncrasies, and one of mine is hoarding catfood. Finney has to get special catfood for his urinary issues, and when we were attacked I thought, ‘What if I can’t get Finney’s catfood?? How long can he last with what I’ve got on hand?’

So ever since then, along with my “go bag,” I try to always have plenty of catfood in the house, just in case.

Buddy gets the same food. They go back and forth between each other’s bowls and I couldn’t figure out how to make them stop, aside from separating them, which didn’t seem realistic since they take time to eat, and since my vet assures me it’s fine to feed Buddy the same food, this is my expensive practice.

I was in New Jersey yesterday with Art, my NPR producer. We’re working on a piece, and normally I talk about whatever I’m working on, I don’t worry about anyone stealing my ideas, but for the first time I feel a little nervous because I just can’t believe we’re getting to do this piece and that it hasn’t already been done. I’ve seen one or two little things, but nothing major. And it’s absolutely, totally fascinating. I emailed my agent saying I think this should be the topic for my next book and she agreed. I will say that we visited the archives for Bell Labs as part of the piece.

Next week I do my big holiday cleaning. I just love holiday cleaning. I could use some advice about something though. My apartment has had an odd smell for more than a month and it’s driving me insane. I thought it was gas, but the Con Ed guy came measured everything and said no. He thought it kinda smelled like gas but kinda not. Maybe something died in the walls, he suggested, except it’s not that bad. I don’t like the smell, but it’s just not a bad smell exactly. But maybe a small dead thing wouldn’t smell too bad? The smell has changed slightly for me, and smells less like gas now. It hasn’t faded, just changed. I don’t know what to do. I have sniffed every inch of my apartment and I absolutely cannot tell the source.

Should I just wait and hope for the best, that it fades??

The picture is of a few new Christmas ornaments I bought myself in preparation for my holiday cleaning next week. I will put them up when I’m done. I broke the green one already.