Holiday Hangover

January 5th! That means I survived. And you survived. Now it’s 2015 and the recovery begins. A lot of things begin.

I’ve always been an annoyingly enthusiastic Holiday person, and I begin playing Christmas music and watching Elf on repeat the day after Thanksgiving basically until someone stops me. When I was a kid it meant presents and a much-needed break from school. In my OLD AGE it means reuniting with a family that live across four different states the whole year, save for one week in December. A week where we all fight for my moms attention with either boasts or ailments and both seem to do the trick: Mom did you see this article I was mentioned in? Hey mom does this mole look cancerous to you? Should I see a doctor? Is this scabies? We always engage in some sort of game whether it’s cards or Scrabble or Monopoly, and typically it ends in either a tiresome debate about rules until someone gives in or an all-out wrestling match if it’s late and there’s drinking involved. Usually one Gelpi ends up in the hospital– not because of wrestling but because we are a weak, weak gene pool of humanity and besides our humor we all share malfunctioning bodies, respectively. I’m not the only one! This year it was Nick, but he’s OK for the most part.

Making and carrying out a plan with our family during the Holidays is like a hybrid game of Guess? and Sorry! We aren’t on time, we aren’t organized, and worst of all, we laugh when things go wrong. It’s just our nature. I think once you witness enough tragedies in life you to learn to laugh, even during stressful times. Maybe especially during stressful times; a defense mechanism of sorts. My brother Doug is best at this. Any time things get tense, Doug is usually laughing or doing something so ridiculous that few of us can keep a straight face. Like subjecting someone to a Dutch Oven while laughing hysterically loud even though it’s TOTALLY INAPPROPRIATE. Or in this case, playing the original Tetrus music by ear on Harlow’s cat piano.

He's single ladies...
He’s single ladies…

Anyway, a major exception should be mentioned here, and that is my sister, Amelie. Amelie is structured, on-time, and enjoys making plans and sticking to them. Was this a gene she was awarded that the rest of us missed out on? Maybe. Unfortunately her orderly ways and reliability only go so far. Trying to gather the lot of us in one location in a timely fashion is like herding cats, high on gasoline. But she does her best. Let’s just say the phrase “You guys are seriously ruining Christmas!!!!” is uttered more than once during our stay. But eventually we all arrive, end up at one table, and celebrate the way we always have; with food, drink, laughter and gratitude.

Correction, Christmas has NOT been ruined.
Correction, Christmas has NOT been ruined.

We’re lucky to have the hosts we do. They treat and feed us very well despite our chronic tardiness and lack of organization. Experiencing the Gelpi crew back together under one roof is a recurring novelty for me, and I never expect it to get old. Not unlike those baby dolls I used to ask Santa for every year as a kid; the ones that pissed in their pants and could digest plastic food.

Given how loud this year was, it’s hard to imagine that there will be two new babies added to the mix by the next one. But the more the merrier I say. Can’t have enough kids at Christmas.

Harlow, slightly overwhelmed
Harlow, only slightly overwhelmed Christmas morning. 

I promised myself this year I would not stay home for New Years Eve. For too many years I’ve either celebrated with my parents or gone to bed at 10:30 and woken up groggy to a new year without anything to commemorate it. I’m well aware that NYE is often overhyped and ends up in broken plans and separating from the group and yada yada yada. I guess since getting sick and falling off the social grid, I’ve craved dressing up and celebrating in some way at least with people of a similar generation. So this year I made it happen. My friend Merric and I wore pretty dresses, attended random venues and saw fireworks at midnight. I had zero expectations for the night, which quickly reminded me what a total recipe for fun that equals. No expectations means no letdowns, and it made all the incidental places we ended up in feel perfect: an uptown house party, a hole in the wall bar in the Marigny, fireworks on the river, and reuniting with an old friend on Royal Street at 2:30 am.

Walking down Canal street at that hour, I felt totally alive. I walked a zig-zag path having to cross the street to dodge what looked like trouble or some drunken leftover heading my way that I had no intention of interacting with. Still, I enjoyed the hell out of it. Among the noise and strangers yelling about a better year to come, I felt my ‘place’, like I fit somehow. I felt on the inside. I don’t know if it was them, or me, or the French Quarter at night, but in that moment I felt real optimism for the upcoming year. I felt complete gratitude to be alive and forgot about whatever circumstances I’d deemed crappy before. I guess for the first time in a long time, I felt my own age, and realized how nice it is to feel that way. I made friends, I made a fool of myself, and I probably made some mistakes. But they were mine. I was out in the world that I’m often only looking out at through a window. And that, for me, made for a perfect New Years Eve.

party.
party.
Hole in the Wall
Hole in the Wall
Living Room.
New Orleans Living Room.
Lilly.
Lilly.

Now, back to recovery. And no regrets!

Health, Happiness, Holidays.

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My Best Friends Wedding

It is a grey, rainy morning in New Orleans. It looks like it’s recovering from my weekend. I am staying at a friend’s house Uptown and have taken up residence in their sunroom for a couple of days. Like many Uptown homes here, the sunroom is filled wall-to-wall with windows– perfect little glimpses of the diverse lives of old and young people going about their days. It isn’t as action packed as say a window room looking down on the streets of New York City. It’s quieter, more stationary. But just as perfect as it gets to lay and read or write or think about things both heavy and light. I love days like this, in rooms like these. It’s a perfect do-nothing day. And I know what you’re thinking, aren’t most days of your sick, sedentary, jobless life do-nothing days? And yes, many are. Incidentally, do nothing days make for the best writing days. As though both were designed specifically for the other.

I’m surrounded by three animals; a black cat named Elvis that if I’m being honest strikes me more as a Stanley or a Todd. A domesticated wolfdog named Jax, and Monty of course. The cat has stayed near me all morning, and Monty is curious about the cat and Jax is curious about Monty, so we’re an entourage in every room I go including the bathroom. Undoubtedly the sporadic rumblings of thunder worry the dogs and they shuffle nervously when it comes, then drift back to their dog naps. The cat doesn’t move at all. This is the kind of weather I love and New Orleans I love. Maybe it’s that it reinforces the idea that it’s OK to stay inside all day. Doesn’t make you feel bad about never putting real pants on. And I always like things that slow us down. Life is fast. People move so quickly. I often feel like I can’t keep up and I’ll never have the energy to. Today is my pace and I am soaking it in.

I like staying at friends houses and perusing their bookshelves. I’m ever on the hunt for my next good read and right now I can’t decide between two: Merrick by Anne Rice–a New Orleans author I’ve been recommended for years now or In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. I saw the movie which I did love but the book is always something different altogether and so I’ve been going back and forth between both all morning. Dare I try reading two at once. Isn’t there some rule against it? I’ve never done it before but life is crazy and maybe I’ll do something super daring and go for two at once! Woah!

My life-long best friend Kaitlin (aka Matt Damon) was married this weekend and I was the maid-of-honor. Turns out that’s a helluva job! The official festivities started Thursday evening and I had to pace myself to ensure I’d survive until Saturday night, and store some energy for dancing late. With a lot of protein, drinking a lot of electrolytes, and the help of my respective 25 pills, I survived. Not only that, I had a blast. It was a beautiful wedding, and the reception had the three necessary components for a success: Open Bar, Amazing band, Awesome people. I must say dancing to “I’m Sexy and I Know It” with my parents, the brides parents, and the entire entourage was one of my favorite parts. It was a long day. The ceremony didn’t begin until 7 but hair and makeup people showed up at 9 am. Men will never know what we go through or how long it actually takes for women to prepare for events. Well maybe they do know, but they’ll probably never understand. At times it became stressful or overwhelming because it’s just such a huge day in so many ways and a strict schedule a million little logistical things to work out. Also doing anything in large groups is quite literally like herding cattle but harder. And it required some stealthy maneuvering taking photos at the hotel beforehand so that the groom wouldn’t run into the bride before seeing her walk down the aisle at Church. Things went quickly and the two hours before the ceremony became a little stressful just due to the number of things to do and timing and zippers that wouldn’t zip yada yada yada. (Not to mention that sad little Saints game we glanced between things)

One of my favorite moments of the night was when Kaitlin, her dad, and I snuck away and took five minutes to relax in the hotel suite before leaving for the ceremony. I forced food on Kaitlin because I’ve seen enough brides faint and I was not about to let that happen. We also watched a few minutes of the very unfortunate Saints game. Mostly we all just sort of caught our breath–Took in everything with some ease and some calm. There’s not a lot of calm on the day. I remember thinking I’d want to remember these five minutes we got to share. I knew it’d be the last of the night, not to mention, our last few moments with Kaitlin Pastorek the girl and not Kaitlin Pastorek Gambino the woman, the wife!

Bridal Selfie!
Bridal Selfie!

To me we are still kids playing mermaids in the pool. But in writing my speech the night before, I had to acknowledge that we were in fact growing up. And that doesn’t have to be sad. I love that our friendship has lasted and grown. I guess that’s a beautiful part of having a best friend–life is constant change, but together things feel solid, impervious to time. Maybe when we’re 80 I’ll still feel like we’re girls in our twenties jumping on the bed in our bath robes. Speaking of which..this was us in the hotel suite the night before the wedding.

See? Kids. But alas, kids get married too. And maybe just because people start referring to you as an adult and you start partaking in adult activities doesn’t mean you necessarily feel like one. Maybe that’s what everyone’s doing and just not talking about–playing the part, going through the motions. Or maybe some people actually feel like adults and I’m just really struggling to grow up here. Who knows. Life is funny. Weddings are fun. Best friends weddings are really fun. And as I’ve always said, New Orleans weddings are the best.

Health, Happiness, and Supposed Adulthood