The Trifecta

Some folks are dreaming of a white Christmas. Elvis and his gang are having a blue Christmas. But I have already had a Red, White AND Blue Christmas!

Life, being what it is, tends to throw some funny twists and turns in the road. I hit a rather large twist eight years ago and found that when I finally landed, I was at the doorstep of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. The friends that I made, the experiences I was afforded, and the overall life changing road, er Avenue, called Pennsylvania culminated this past weekend for the last White House Christmas party.

This party is one of the most magical and surreal events. This was my seventh and final soiree on the State Floor and it was one, big Frank Capra moment from beginning until the end. The theme this year was a Red, White, and Blue Christmas and the entire White House, from the moment I cleared security, was a big house of bunting. I half way expected to see Yankee Doodle Dandy and Uncle Sam sipping the killer Presidential nog in the corner. The entire mansion was bedecked in the most beautiful and elegant decorations. The President's Own Marine Band played non-stop for two hours. The food was something out of a Gourmet Magazine photo shoot and the entire event, believe it or not, is, well, cozy.

All of my close friends from my wild ride that was the White House were there and it was an unforgettable evening. Nothing is more festive to me than being able to get dressed up and celebrate with the people who have become nothing short of my extended family. I was honored to be able to thank The President and Mrs. Bush one final time. Serving them will go down as one of the great joys of my life.

This was an emotional weekend for reasons that are difficult to articulate but I can honestly say I made it a point to savor every detail, no matter how small and I am humbled and grateful to have been able to attend this event one last time.

On a lighter note, travel always provides good material; for writing, for conversing, and just for sheer entertainment. There is one detail of travel that continues to plague me and my quest for answers and this trip was no different.
Riddle me this: When you board your flight and have stashed your carry-on items and taken your seat among the masses, the first thing you are told to do is to fasten your seat belt. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please take your seats and fasten your seat belts". This civilized request ramps up and becomes a threat of sorts, "Ladies and Gentleman, in order to push back from the gate, we need everyone to be seated with their seat belts fastened. We can't leave until everyone is seated with their seat belts fastened". One would logically surmise that by virtue of the aircraft taxiing down the runway, all seat belts would be fastened. Why is it then when the attendants begin their safety demo, the first thing they show you how to do is...that's right...fasten your seat belt? Anyone? Anyone?

You Gotta Play to Win

Cozy took on a whole new meaning yesterday when I arrived at the airport for my flight to the East Coast. At first glance, the morning had all the trappings of a cozy day...I in my fleece and the rainy and foggy weather would normally be two key ingredients for my favorite state of being. Usually, being surrounded by people is another helpful component of cozy, just not when it's hundreds of people I don't know, sweating profusely while standing in line trying to make a flight.

I have the rare privilege of being able to fly for free. Free is also code for "standby". Electing to exercise my privilege a week before Christmas is risky, to put it mildly. I arrived at the airport over an hour before my free flight was to depart and ended up standing in line for 55 minutes. I have a strong logistical background and I can say with almost 100% certainty that logistically speaking, I should not have made my flight; free or not, there's no good reason for it. The airport was a complete goat rodeo. Luck stepped up to the plate and was on my side; so much so, that I probably should have stopped at the first Seven Eleven and purchased a lottery ticket. I am the poster child for Murphy's Law but even ol' Murph oversleeps, calls in sick, or gets distracted. Yesterday was one of those occasions.

The great thing about cozy is, it travels. Optimal cozy time is spent in the comfort of my small apartment, but when I have to travel it's good to know that cozy can and, often will, be there waiting for me. Sure enough, cozy was here for me yesterday when I arrived. I had a cozy lunch at one of my favorite haunts in my old neighborhood. It was raining out and I opted for a big bowl of chili and two cold beers. I have the luxury of staying in the most cozy of houses...a Cape Cod BUNGALOW complete with roaring fire and a sweet natured black lab who adores the fire and finds it most comfortable to rest on the hearth. And, to top it all off, I had the most amazing homemade Mojitos. These babies would give South Beach a complex. You have to love a host who keeps his kitchen stocked with fine rum, fresh mint, and a muddler. That's right...a muddler. Need I say more?

Gotta go. Normal Rockwell is calling. He wants his cozy back.

The High Season

By all accounts if "cozy" were an actual destination, December 18th would be its high season. This is when cozy does its best work. Short days, cold weather (if you're lucky to live somewhere that doesn't rely upon fronts to provide you with this ingredient), snow (if you're extra lucky to live somewhere that gets dumped upon with THIS ingredient), steaming pots of chili, wool sweaters and fleece, crackling fireplaces, well you get the idea. I love this time of year but not for the reasons most people do. Sure, I'm a sucker for the holidays...I love the festive nature of the season with parties and good cheer; preferably the type of "cheer" that comes in a bottle. I love Christmas trees, Christmas smells, infinite servings of food, dressing up for parties, colorful parcels with long coils of ribbon, and being with my friends and my family. But truth be told, I'd be a sucker for this time of year if Christmas fell in July. I love Autumn and am downright giddy with anticipation of its arrival. Each year, however, I forget how much I relish Winter.

I love where I live but I must confess that I am complete crab when I wake up in Mid-December and realize that, once again, I need to leave behind my winter coat when I leave the house because the temperature is scheduled to spike to a creepy 78 degrees. I also must confess that the idea of spending Christmas in any sort of tropical climate incites a protest from within. Some people swear by it, but it simply isn't for me. I'm a purist and as a result, I adhere to a strict regimen of seasonally appropriate weather. To date, I have been unsuccessful in finding a way to live in Texas AND the North East; spending the months of October through February in the North East, of course. I'm working on it, but for now, the best I can do is have a perpetual pot of chili on my stove commencing in October, crank the a.c. when the elements refuse to comply with the calendar, layer in my fleece, dim the lights, close the blinds, light candles, and hunker down with my puppy. This is the cozy high season, after all.

The Groundbreaking

As someone who has a passion for writing, I've kicked around the idea of starting a blog. After seeing all of the blogs out there, I figure I have as much to say as anyone else so why not? I suspect my blog will wind up being the Seinfeld of blogs in that it will be the blog about nothing. That said, it has been my experience that the nothings in life can become the biggest somethings. So, here goes...