most of you dont know much about the king other than the fact that he is opinionated to a fault, and not an extremely attractive individual. (i am skinny, so i guess i got that going for me.) what you may not know is that the king studied art in college. i was a business major for about 10 minutes before i realized that taking over the world was possible by other means.

actually, i made the change after getting some good advice. i got lots of good advice during college. i was around a bunch of smart people. here’s what i learned:

1. never, ever move somewhere because of a girl. the world is at least 50% girls, and you can always find one where you are. so go where you want to go, and be where you want to be. but dont follow a girl around. just dont.
2. dont waste your short time in college trying to prepare for a career. do what you want to do. learn how to learn and be a better person. then figure out how to make a living when you get finished.

that’s about all i remember. so, following piece of advice #2, i did art in school. it wasn’t as easy as you think.

skip forward enough years to pay off my student loans, and we’re at today. i dont have an art job. there’s not really any such thing. but i do make art. secretly. i have big plans in 2007, and you may even hear about them now and then. i’m gonna devote more time to this and really get out there and get seen. a seven nation army couldn’t hold me back. i’ll be out there. maybe even in your city.

that’s my new year’s resolution.

-k

When I was in elementary school all the kids in my class started to eat paper. It was like the cool thing to do. Eat paper. As in, they would tear sheets of paper into little pieces, roll them into balls and eat them. EAT PAPER. Seriously, all the cool kids were doing it and I wanted to be cool.

My Mom found out about this new trend and told me I was not allowed to eat paper. She told me that if I ate paper I would have to have surgery on my butt. This frightened me. No matter how cool eating paper was, I knew surgery on my butt would not be cool.

I went right to school and told all the kids in my class about what my Mom had told me. My Mom was currently in nursing school, so I knew she had to be right. I was sure my classmates didn’t want surgery on their butts any more than I did. I mean, who would want a doctor looking at your butt?! Not me, that’s for sure.

I remember walking around at recess and telling all the kids what I had learned. Nobody believed me. They were all, “we’re gonna keep eating paper ’cause it’s cool.”

Idiots. I wouldn’t be visiting them in the hospital.

As I got older I started to think a little bit more about the things my parents had told me growing up. I couldn’t figure out why eating paper would cause the need for anal surgery. I was also pretty sure that my Dad never wrestled a bear or was bitten by a bat. Dude, they told me a lot of things that I was starting to question.

What’s my point here?

My point is that Babboo ate a lot of paper on Christmas. But I’m smart enough to know that he won’t have to have any type of surgery on his butt.

So what kinds of things did you think were true when you were a kid?!

You know how you need keys in your life? I’m not getting all deep here and talking about keys to a better marriage or keys to being a happier person any other crap like that. I’m talking about actual keys. The keys you need to get inside your apartment or to start your car. You need them. Just in basic everyday life, you need these.

So guess what I lost on Sunday?

My keys.

It’s not that I just misplaced them while out shopping or at church. Nope, that wouldn’t be my style. When I mess up, I like to mess up big time!

They flew off the roof of our car while we were on the freeway entrance headed to The King’s parent’s house for Christmas Eve dinner.

(I shudder just typing this out.)

I set my keys on top of the car while strapping my dear sweet Babboo in his car seat. When I put them there I thought to myself, “now Isabel, don’t forget your keys are on the roof of the car. It would be foolish if you forgot them.” I really did think this. And I really did forget them.

The King was driving (and thus, using his own keys to operate the car) and as he accelerated onto the freeway we heard this massive noise on the roof of our car.

The King: What in the crap was that??!!

Isabel: (softly) My keys.

The King: What in the hell were you keys doing on the roof of the car?

Isabel: (even more softly, because I’m extra humiliated) I left them there.

The King: Well, they’re gone now.

I knew that. My stomach was all ready in knots. I was sick. How was I going to get into our secure apartment building without my push button thingy? How was I going to be able to drive our car? How was I going to be able to open our mailbox to get the residual Christmas cards?

I’m going to have the live the rest of my life locked inside our apartment because I can’t go anywhere without any keys! Oh my gosh, my life is over and it’s only just begun.

(breath, breath.)

There’s no turning around on the freeway to look for a set of keys. No matter how much it’s going to cost to replace the fancy Volkswagen keyless entry key thingy or to get new keys cut for the apartment. You do not stop of the freeway. Ever. You also can’t pray for your keys to be returned. Because ain’t nobody gonna find them on the freeway. And if they do, they wouldn’t even know where to begin to find you to return them.

Tuesday morning was spent making phone calls to Volkswagen. A new key will cost (get this) $250.00. Which includes the cost of the scheduled appointment, at which time a mechanic will also have to reprogram The King’s key.

Reprogrammed? It’s not a computer; it’s just a freakin’ key! And $250.00, you’ve got to be kidding me! It’s the day after Christmas. I don’t have an extra $250.00 just sitting around.

It looks like I’ll be unlocking my doors old school with a regular key sans fancy buttons that makes pretty noises.

I contacted our apartment managers next. They didn’t charge me for new keys. Hooray. And I only have to pay $50.00 for a new scanner thingy to get inside our secure building. $50.00 is a lot of money, but its no $250.00, so I was happy about that.

My keys are replaceable. But the little Washington State license plate key ring that I had my keys on isn’t replaceable. It said “The King” on it and was bought the first time I came out to Seattle to meet the man that I would later marry. I’ve had it for almost 7 years.

It’s a good thing I got a new key ring for Christmas. But it’s not the same.

Merry Christmas from my little family to all of you out there! May Santa bring you everything you wished for. And may you have been good enough all year to deserve it.

(Here’s hoping that we’ll figure out how to use the camera timer in 2007!)

isabel thinks i don’t talk about my feelings. so, to add some cheer to your holiday, here’s how i’m feeling:

christmas just isn’t christmas unless you’ve heard (and you have to actually “hear” it and not just read it) at least some of david sedaris’ ’santaland diaries’. if you’ve heard david read from his memoirs as a Macy’s department store elf, you know what i mean. if you haven’t, you should. tune in to NPR at some point in the next couple of days and eventually you will be treated to what david believes ‘away in a manger’ would sound like if sung by billie hoilday. it makes me feel true christmas feelings. (You can also listen to it online.)

waiting is a huge drag. whether waiting in traffic, in line at the urban outfitters, or waiting for that job that you interviewed at now several times to call you back, it all sucks. children everywhere are waiting for santa claus, or hanukkah claus or kwaanza claus or whatever (that’s me trying to be more sensitive and politically correct, which is one of isabel’s christmas wishes) and many of them are so overcome by the anticipation that they dont realize that waiting blows. it makes me feel frustrated.

my mom taught me how to ride a bike when we lived in california. i must have been like 5 years old at best. we lived across the street from an elementary school in california that was basically all paved. she took the training wheels off of my bike, and ran behind me, holding the seat for hours in the sun. i can still remember hearing her voice (true story) behind me and knowing that she hadn’t let go. i’m not big on pain, so having that hand on my seat was comforting. i can also remember looking back and seeing her running 10 feet behind me when i finally got it figured out. i know how she must have felt letting go of that seat, and i’m not sure i’ll be as strong when the time comes for me to do the same for my kid. i’ll probably just let him learn to ride a bike in college. my mom’s about to go through some tough times, and it makes me feel scared and heartbroken.

so enough of that stuff anyway. i’m sitting here realizing why i dont talk about my feelings much. it make me feel like a wuss.

so happy holidays and stuff. we’ll have a christmas gift swap next week where everyone can pick from everyone else’s gifts that they are going to return anyway. its a win win. you get rid of a gift you dont want, and get one you do in return.
-k

By popular demand (okay, just a few of you asked-but I respond!) here is a picture of Babboo with Santa. As you can see my child is not afraid of Santa. In fact, he could have cared less. I guess that’s a good thing.

And just because it’s the Holiday season and I’m in a giving mood, here’s a picture of me with Santa when I was Babboo’s age.

This was clearly before I gained an immense fear of Santa. And yet my Mom would take me to see him every year. She has a stack of photos of me being practically held down by Santa in the name of “Christmas memories”. Naturally she didn’t scan any of those to share with me.