Sunday Drive

I'm a planner. I like to know what is around the next corner. I want to be prepared and have the right gear, raincoat or whatever I need. Problem is, life doesn't work out that simply. Plans for us, are they predetermined? Divinely. I know so.

I've been thinking too much about the future lately. What will it hold, how will my life change? Seems like I can't stay content with how things are now. I get so far ahead of myself that sometimes I forget to look around me and appreciate where I am. Last year at this time I was obsessing about the details of my wedding. This Christmas I had to fight the urge to obsess about the future, my life, would I have a family. Is there ever a time when we aren't wanting something? What does that feel like? Sometimes this obsessing keeps me from enjoying family, my husband and the life that I've worked hard to attain.

I've realized a few things: I am not meek, but I don't want to work like this forever. I have other skills and I want to be more creative. Yet, being creative is merely doing it, not just talking or thinking about it.

Sometimes I find the only thing that stops the obsessing is prayer. God has plans for me that I haven't even begun to understand or see. He is preparing me for things that I will do, and using the sting of disappointments to keep me steadfast in my faith.

I long for things. I want dreams to come true. Walking through my neighborhood on Christmas Day afternoon with my husband, I realize that I'm not walking these streets alone anymore. I used to make myself go for a walk with my dog. Maybe I thought the fresh air would lift my spirits. I used to see people like me and my husband and wonder if I would ever know that sort of union. A partnership and a commitment. Just when I decided that sacrificing happiness for companionship wasn't worthwhile, someone special came into my life.

I am reminded that God is preparing us for things, unseen. Faith...and I should have more of it these days, and enjoy the scenery.

Reasons to love Christmas

Yes...I do have to make this list. I don't know if its the international economic crisis, the weather, the lack of time or the hormonal changes, but I can't get excited for Christmas. I'm ready to see parts of 2008 in my rearview mirror, and there are parts of 2008 that I want to live over every day.

Whatever the case is, I keep kicking myself in the butt to get excited for Christmas and to be pleasant holiday fun. So I'm making a list to remind myself why Christmas is such a great holiday, aside from the fact of Jesus being born to save us from our sins. I know, that's a pretty big one to put after a comma.

1. Christmas lights: They're pretty and make ugly things twinkle and look nice. It's also a good way to light up the neighborhood.

2. The big wheel: It was a great Christmas when I got that pink and blue Big Wheel. A plastic bike of wonder. I drove it through the house and through the garage.

3. Gift-giving: I think this is also what I dislike about Christmas. At a time of year when people should be loving and reminded of being selfless they are jerks. There's is a mentality to take or be taken. I'm opting out.

4. Time off: I'm missing winter break...still. I've been out of college almost 10 years. The task of getting ready for the holidays and being excited for the holidays is hard to do when you're working two jobs, in school and trying to be cheerful. But a few days off at Christmas are fun, and you can run around wearing stocking caps and jeans and get stuff done.

5. Movies: I like to see a holiday movie or two. It seems like Christmas is really the only time I allow myself that treat.

6. The children: It's fun to watch my nieces and nephews open up Christmas gifts. It's fun to watch my loved one open presents. However, I always feel like what I've given them is not enough, or they're just being nice. I'm sure that says more about me than them.

7. Dirty Santa: It's fun. It's good natured, but at the same time with underlying principles of greed and getting more than the next person. Ok, talked myself out of that one.

8. Christmas music: "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," "Oh Holy Night," are just a few of my favorites. James Taylor's Christmas album still one of the top picks.

9. Christmas baking: It's chaos and its sugar and flour everywhere, but it's also a time of year when I get to spend time with my aunts, cousins and friends doing something for other people.

10. Traditions: I'm thinking I need to start some new traditions with my husband that we can enjoy and look forward to. This Christmas has been hectic and lackluster so far. What traditions would you share?

A perfect pairing

We've got a dinner party to attend tonight. It's with people who have been having monthly get togethers and we can finally make it to one of the parties. The hosts are making the food, the guests are bringing the wine.

Tonight's theme is Latin/Mexican. I'm excited to see what the hosts (strangers to me at the time of this posting) whip up and how our wines co-mingle with the flavors. It seems Latin food is a little hard to pair with. It's not an obvious no-brainer like Italian food or seafood. Mexican food is rich, fruity and earthy all at the same time. Our wine rack at home are currently filled with wines from St. James Winery, in central Missouri. The Norton from that part of the country is great. But we also have some dry white wines that I'm anxious to try.
So in anticipation of this dinner, and in hopes of making a good impression on strangers I stopped by the liquor store this afternoon. Cab sav seems too heavy and I've never been a fan of any zinfandels since I graduated from college. I finally settled on a mid-priced Syrah. We'll see how it goes. I think we'll take a dry white, just for added insurance. I checked a few sites before making my final selection from our wine rack. I usually just pair Mexican food with good beer, but adding the wine was a nice challenge. Wineanswers.com has a great site for pairings.
We're (maybe just me) are sort of wine dorks, snobs would imply we know what we're talking about. We have a wine journal. We write down the wines we drink, what occasion we drank them on like birthdays or anniversaries. We also write down what we ate it with and our impressions of the wine. We've got quite a little book going.

Some of our favorites include:
Cabernet Sauvignon, Three Rivers Winery, Walla Walla, Wash., $15 -- This wine is smooth, dark, oaky and all around tasty.

Norton, Stone Hill Winery, Central Missouri, $18-$20 -- This is a full-bodied red wine that is made from the Norton grape. It might not show up on fancy wine lists, but it's quite good. Dry with hints of oak and cherry. We had this one on Christmas Eve last year.

We sort of stick to red wines, I guess we're trying to grow hair on our chests or something. I feel like if I want something smooth and easy, I'm have a beer. However, I do enjoy a good Pinot Grigio -- especially in the summer.

One of my favorites is Barefoot...cheap, fruity and always a good choice.


Buen Provecho!

Well duh...

For the first time in nearly three years I've been at the house by myself all weekend. It's kind of nice not to have be courteous or quiet. But then after I've read all the old periodicals laying my chair and nightstand, it starts to get old. Nobody else is going to get up in the middle of the night and put the dogs out. Nobody else is going to take the trash...reminds me of a song by the Cars..."Who's going to drive you home?"

Beside the minor inconveniences of life that are often eliminated by having a partner in life, I've also realized that I don't like to be the one left out or waiting at home. This is a well duh moment that carries a little more significance for me. I'm always leaving, traveling for stories, working late, having meetings, book clubs and girls night out etc. I have a life outside of my marriage. I try to encourage my hubby to do the same. But I guess I wonder if I really mean it, or just say it to be polite. I'm always calling home and telling him about the exciting things I've done or experienced. It's not often that I'm home, making sure the dogs get fed and the trash gets taken out.

I notice has been a pattern in relationships in the past. I want to the one with a dynamic life, and by all means you should have one too...but can you spare 20 minutes to talk to me or make sure the dogs get fed?

The hardest part of it is not so much the separation. My husband compares to a cat...love me, love me... ok thanks, now go away. The part that is most difficult is that we have separate lives for a few days, We're experiencing different things and not sharing them. It doesn't help that he's in Austin, Texas, one of my favorite cities, seeing great bands, and great friends and I'm not.

Show Choir Moves

This is gem that a co-worker found. It's really so good that I can't help watching it, over and over. It reminds of the days in show choir. I can almost see them counting this out.

This church apparently is doing quite well because they've paid a lot of for their dance moves. Or they've been watching Billy Banks. Nonetheless, this should make you at least laugh out loud.

The Real Apple Pie

Maybe it's a Yankee thing, or my Wisconsin roots are showing. Apple pie with cheese. I'd heard about, thought maybe it was an urban myth. Now I know. It is legit and pretty darn good. The pie extravaganza began with a trip to my dad's in Rolla, Mo., where apples hung heavy from the branches of his tree. His promise was that they were ugly, but mighty fine eating apples. I took him up on the offer a little too enthusiastically. We brought home two pounds (or more!) of apples.

We made apple crisp. Threw them into oatmeal and just tried to plain eat some of them. But this may be their best use. It was once illegal in Wisconsin to serve pie at a restaurant without Cheddar cheese. It's the British way to eat apple pie apparently. But I'm sure their pie is served with a very sharp piece of cheddar, instead of shredded from a bag.

Nonetheless, pie has been conquered.

Here's the recipe if the urge should strike you.


6 lg. tart cooking apples
1 c. sugar
2 tbsp. flour
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. grated lemon peel
1/8 tsp. ground cloves
1/8 tsp. salt
1 (9 inch) pie shell

Peel, core, and thinly slice 6 apples. Toss with ingredients listed above and arrange them overlapping in pan lined with your favorite flakey unbaked pastry. Now, combine and pour over apples the following: 1/4 c. sugar 1/8 tsp. salt 1/2 c. grated cheddar cheese 1/4 c. melted butter
Bake in hot oven at 400 degrees for 40 minutes or until crust and topping are golden brown.

To be fair...

The Republican National Convention has come to end, to be fair I must weigh in. However, I'll admit my appetite for this this bout of patriotism and oration was limited. When McCain first came on the scene I was glad. His candidacy at least would be a change, a different kind of Republican. I was eager to hear his policies, but sadly politics or at least elections are really just a popularity contest based on few things that matter. "Is the candidate somebody I can sit down and have a drink with?" "Does she do laundry and cook too?" "Is he like me, does he know what it means to be 'working class."
Honestly to me, none of that is important. My questions would be more like, what is the policy on Iraq, taxes, is person going to think things through or simply have a knee jerk reaction? To me having a drink with them, or where they went to school is irrelevant. However, I realize my own feelings about the GOP veep are pretty petty.

Regardless of politics (or maybe politics are at the core of this)the difference in the conventions is this: Watching the Democratic convention was inspiring, gave me hope and a desire to affect positive change. Watching the Republican convention I was stunned by the devisive us vs. them rhetoric, and worried for the future of our country and military.

I think the best way to some the RNC up might be a few Haikus and choice photos.
Enjoy.

Sarah
A clip in your hair,
you talk of security,
fear is what I hear.

John
Veteran with high hopes,
bucking the system,
too smart for the machine.

Delegates
They're faces are red,
offset with hair so white,
this is my country?

Be the Change...

As cynical as I am, I'm always inspired by watching the Democratic National Convention. Every four years, regardless of who the nominee is, I'm inspired to dream bigger, do more and expect less. And when they pull Teddy Kennedy out to champion hope, who can't help but get on board. Unfortunately, it only takes about 24 hours for that to wear off and I get bogged down in the tedious details of daily living.

But what would it take to "Be the change that you want to see in the world?"
What would I have to do? What would I have to forsake and cast off? It's a curious thing to consider and dovetails nicely into a serman I heard Sunday. Are we living, in our hearts as God would want us to? Are we concerned with things that are eternal, not temporal?

I toured a juvenile detention facility today in Tecumseh. Oklahoma is one of the few states in the south where juvenile offenders are given a treatment based program, not a punishment sentence. They are expected to grow, progress, feel empathy and become productive adults. One girl I interviewed killed her mother. Her grandmother, her mother's mother, comes to see this girl every weekend. When she should carry rage, she carries forgiveness. Where she should harbor resentment and anger, she carries compassion and hope for this young lady. Eventually the young woman will leave the center. She will become an adult and she will likely spend the rest of her life trying to explain how she became who she is and how a grandmother cast off her own feelings in hopes the granddaugther would survive. Gives me chills.

As the newspaper industry flirts with downsizing I start thinking over things I could do outside of journalism. None of them for the money. Sadly, I'm not wired that way. I have been taught by my parents and family to serve things greater than yourself. To work for the common good and at the end of the day when you're tired and drained...do it some more. I have veterans, slained Marines and government employees in my lineage. I have a social worker mother who works everyday with the principle that people can change. People can grow and become better. The superintendent at the juvenile facility has seen his share of juveniles who take all the tools given to them and choose a life of crime. He continues to hope and believe that each child will make a different choice. I admire that courage and tenacity. I wonder if I could do more.

I called my Little Brother today. He's in middle school. He told me he's trying to save money to take a trip to France this summer with kids from his school. He's serious. How proud I am that my little brother dares to dream big and think about Paris, France, not just going to the pool over his summer vacation. He likes to cook. He reminds me that cooking at school has to be 'quick and easy.' I'm proud that he has cultivated other interests and frankly I'm proud of his nerdish tendancies. I'd like to think I have a little something to do with that. Teaching him to cook and showing him things. He might seem bored when we go to things like arts festivals or fancy restaurants. I like to think those were learning experiences.

What I admire most about his 6th grade mind, and what I lack in my own life, is the ability to believe in pipedreams.



Be the change that you want to see in the world. --Mahatma Gandhi

Dark Clouds

So I'm brooding and grouchy. Not sure why. Perhaps the BS of a job, any job really, is getting old. The attempts to stab people in the face with information...how can we package this different, better? Does the general public know where Georgia is? We don't want to spoil this Olympic swimming medal haze to actually think about a real crisis.

So there is that. There is the sad fact that I'm impatient. Have been and always will be. Being peppered with questions from people twice my age about things I can only profess to have a minimal knowledge is getting old. I'm getting old, I've realized. I don't care to "expand my portfolio" in an industry that seems to be flailing and bailing water. But I will expand because I love this profession and don't want to be seen as unyielding or unsure of how to progress in an ever-changing world. I tell my boss, "I'll do what you want me to do," but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

How did I get here, I don't know. But the general malaise, is becoming just that, a sickness that I'm quite sick of. I keep thinking of ways to be excited about a professional I've spent most of life pursuing. Maybe it is investing in new technologies and finding new ways to tell stories, different ways. Ways that I must be in control of and be willing to give 12-hours of my time to each day. There's the rub. That is the real root of all this. I'm not lazy, but I'm not interested in investing my free time to a skill, when I'm nearly a third of the way through my life span and I want to invest in things outside of work. There has to be a balance I'm sure, but what I've learned is that I don't know how to balance the time I put into my craft -- something I love.

So there is that. Just ranting. Thank you for reading, all three of you. :)

List for the Lazys

Sometimes my time is out of control. Back-to-back events. Classes, parties, studies, meetings. I envy people who can just sack out on the couch and doze through Party of Five episodes. I need and seek activity. Always have and I'm afraid I always will. But I'm realizing I have no barometer. No device that tells me when the engine is hot and the oil is low. I get to the end of my rope and crash, or meltdown. It's not pretty.
I'm trying to remind myself that I need to make time for me and stuff that makes me happy. So a perfect day goes a little something like this:
* Wake up early (To let the dogs outside, or to roll over and tell Mark to do it)
* Read for a few hours before getting up.
* Coffee, oatmeal, newspaper.
* A little lite weeding in the garden before the sun gets too hot. Brush dogs.
* An hour-long workout. Strenght and strectch.
* More lounging and reading. Think about lunch.
* Maybe a scooter ride to bookstore or Target.
* Think about dinner. Make a new recipe.
* Wine or beer on the back porch.
* A game of cribbage.
* Hang out with friends drinking on the porch or other lazy location.
* Good night.

Now that I've got the list, it sounds like a full day...but a great day.

Dirty little whirlwind

I've hit the point when I'm actually a decade older than people entering the workforce. I've had a few of these realizations lately, one after the other.

It's interesting to think all the stuff they take for granted, all the technology that has been at their fingertips since the day they were born ...in the late 1980s.
Shoot, I was already watching M-TV when you twerpts were still in diapers. Some of these humbling realizations have come like this:

A puzzled look when I said, "Oooh, way to go Doogie Houser."

"Is this Robert Smith? I've only heard the remixed versions of his songs."

(Ugh...everything you like emo comes straight from the hands of Robert Smith.)

"A grill...you know one of those metal things people put on their teeth,"

(Apparently my age, makes me unaware of popular culture? Little do you know I can flow...and wave my arms like Ralph Macchio.)

"Is this Save Ferris?"
(puzzled look) "Who?!"

But here's the deal, this isn't really about age. It's about relevancy. It's about appreciating knowledge and feeling like what you think or now is worthwhile. The dismissal you get when someone assumes you don't understand what a grill is isn't so much an age thing. It's the idea that someone would think that I don't understand the world around me, and at a certain age stopped caring.
When you hang out with people five or ten years younger, it's not about the now, it's about what stays. Robert Smith, not Doogie Houser. I have a hard time having a prolonged conversation with people who have no understanding of the history of punk rock, although mine is limited as well. But I feel the same way about people who don't read a lot or examine what is being spoon fed to them on cable.
So I guess the point is not so much about age, but about thinking about what you consume and evaluating it.

Do it for the joy...

Long week. Work nights. Study days. I realize all that's really happening is that my butt is trading chairs. Sometimes I think I could work nights, but then a morning spent at home makes me think I really don't care if I work at all. Seriously. If I could have enough money and insurance to live well I'd spend my free-time weeding my flower beds, making pie, doing laundry and volunteering for noble causes. And when I volunteer I can say I've had enough and then go home for the day. Only to return with a bright, sunny attitude the next day. I've been working full-time (mostly for newspapers) since I was 21. Now as the 10-year mark approaches I think I would miss it, but not that much. Is there something in you at 30 that slows down and says this is OK? Cause that's where I am. Working nights is most unproductive and studying days is way too productive. I'm about to embark on a new career path and I wonder if I'm just pissing in the wind. Do I give up what I've achieved here or in journalism because I want a job that is different, even if that means starting out by answering phones and making coffee, trying to prove myself again? What's in this for me? Do I have the stamina?

"Would you prefer the easy way? Well, Ok, don't cry." - Ani DiFranco.

Who's listening?

So, I'm setting up a blog. A facebook, a twitter, and a flickr page. But who does all this technology serve. Is it for me? To document my life? Is for the strangers who happened upon it and then use it in news stories when I lose my mind and steal ice cream? Really, who is all this for? Is it akin to hieroglyphics, our paintings on the walls of caves to remind people with a trail of metadata that we were here. We thought. We felt, we struggle. Is it for me? Is this online journaling supposed to help me better understand life and where I fit in to it all?

I'm not sure. I'm guessing we've evolved into compulsive creatures who to share every thought or blurb through a text message to a variety of Web sites. I'm still trying to figure out where updating all the various sites fits in my list of daily tasks. I like the idea of a blog and love to read other people's blog. It's like peeping in their windows. But is there a point when all becomes meaningless?

When my grandmother died we went through her things. She kept a daily journal for most of her life. Some of the entries in the slim calendar books were cryptic, "drank Pepsi," or "Cubs lost." While brief we get an idea of what her days were like and what was important to her. We still have the journals and still sometimes go through them. Will twitter posts and others hold the same meaning? A flimsy printout doesn't embody the same sense of history. But maybe that's the difference. Even when we stop producing, there is a live and dynamic version of us on the Web. Is there a shelf life for such things?

I can't claim Luddite privileges and put my head in the sand. Afterall, I did meet my husband on myspace.

The fine art of pinning

Sorry folks, as if any of you are reading, but I've been without a computer. Once we three computers. Then there were none. A friend is trying to fix our old computer, but that will require a new motherboard. Mother what?? So I keep waiting to post pictures. Doing a blog on a work computer feels deviant enough.

We've had a bramble in front of our house for nearly a month now. It's all the debris and limbs that were broken during the ice storm. I've got a tree out there. The pile is larger than my car. The birds are loving it. Brush and limbs, plenty of things to scoot around on and catch. Hopefully the mice are NOT finding a home it in. But my neighborhood is slowly coming together. The city crews have been in the boulevard clearing out splintered and broken limbs from the top of the gazebo and fountain.

We've been in full tilt wedding planning. After spending the morning trying on various styles of undergarments at the bridal store, I finally something that would work, and dropped my dress off at the tailors for alterations. That was scary. That must be what people feel like when they leave their children at daycare for the first time. I've had that dress in my care for several months. Occasionally I get it out and try it on. I check on it, is it still in the closet...yes.

So when I left it with Kim Hoa, I felt like I had left an arm at her store.
"I call you in two weeks," she said as she whisked the dress away.

"Oh, ok. Thank you."

These were our parting words as I left the dress in her care, wondering about the state of her insurance. Whether they had smoke detectors in the shop. If those old sewing machines she worked on were subject to burning up in a huff. Kim Hoa is a small Asian woman. She wears a white coat, like a nurse...only for garments and ill-fitting pants. Her shoes were Velcro sneakers that probably came from a huge discount store. Her eyebrows were painted on..that's where I see as she pins me, talking with a thick accent and pins in her mouth. I realize in my heels that I'm taller, way taller, than she is and I'm staring right at her eyebrows. When I walked in with the dress, she showed me a tiny dressing room in the front room of her shop.

"Ask me if you need help," she said.

I stumble around to put the dress, for nearly the fourth time that morning. Finally I come out, shoes, proper undergarments, except for a black bra hanging out. It looks great, and I'm a little melancholy that nobody else is here to see it, except a 10-year and her mom waiting to have jeans altered.

"Oh, you need to have cups in," she says. "Take this off, so we can see."

With that she unhooks my bra and I pull out from the sleeve of the dress, like I'm changing for middle school gym, but I'm in the front of her shop.
"Ummhmmm. Yes, this is too big."
More pins. I cringe. Please don't snag the beautiful dress.

It's on this day, however, this lovely unseasonable warm day in January that I realize, I'm getting married, very soon and it's going tobe pretty. The cake will taste sweet and the bubbly will go down without a hitch. The dress, the groom, the cake. That's all I really need, well and of course a few shots afterward.

Babies, babies, babies

How could I forget??? The past year was a great one for the babies. In my circle there were four new babies in 2007. Keep on trucking little mamas.

There were nearly that many engagements in my circle of friends as well. So I'm calling 2008, year of the weddings.

Soon enough I will figure out how to post photos and you can see all the gooey baby and wedding stuff you ever wanted. I'm already taking bets at who is next on the rock road...and who will be first in the baby making. Nobody's holding their breath on that one.

Oh, and also...I've been doing Weight Watchers since July and hit my goal weight today!! Watch out Jane Fonda....I'm gonna aerobocize you!!

2007, part duex

Ok, I better hurry up and put the rest of the year into perspective before it gets away from me.

April was a big fun. I had a shiny rock on my finger to take home to visit the family for my cousin's baby shower. Perfect timing Mr. Mark, the ladies of my family sufficiently swooned and the wedding planning began in full tilt. There were guest lists to be made. Colors to pick, places to book, dresses to try on and cake to taste.



I must admit, I waded into the pool or wedding planning with a little trepidation. I've been in many weddings and seen even the most level-headed bride to be turn into a raving lunatic hours before her wedding. It seemed scary and made the idea of a destination wedding really attractive...for a minute. While destination weddings have their place and are certainly require minimal planning, we didn't want to deprive our families of a bash. Especially my nephews (and brother) who have been known to dance the night away.



Alas, a church wedding and reception bash were the plan. Signed, sealed and ready. Here we go. I also got my wedding dress in April. I approached dress shopping with as much zest as a chef might go after an onion. Get it over with. I know, it could have been a prolonged magical event. I knew what I didn't want so that narrowed the field significantly. I couldn't imagine myself in a dress that was wider than a doorway. I didn't need magic. This ain't no disco. I spent a week looking at a bridal mag -- and then bought the second dress I tried on. It was one of the few dresses on the rack in my size. My mom thought it would be a good point of reference. Turns out it was. The references were great and I said let's get it. She was flabbergasted, but I think relieved at the same time. There would be no multiple dress shopping trips, no meeting in Dallas or Chicago to scout out dresses. Here it was. Wrapped up and ready to go. Scratch that off the list.



The summer was spent getting my Beau's house ready to sell and redoing my hardwood floors. We lived in his house for week while the floors were getting stripped, sanded and refinished. It's sad when most of your worldly possessions fit into the kitchen, stacked ceiling high. Earlier in the summer I had a garage sale and sold the couch and loveseat that came from my dad's basement. It serve me well, but it was time for a change. Too bad we're still using the futon I bought for $100 from a friend who was moving when I lived in Texas.



In July, my Beau and I combined households. I think this was most painful for him. Records were sold. CD and clothing discarded. I'm still going through mine. But since then we've lived in a state of chaos. One room is filled with boxes of books and clothes. Another room (still filled with crap) is where we and the two dogs sleep. Doesn't seem right. I think we're finally addressing it, and trying to get things organized. This has been nearly as stressful as planning a wedding.



In September we hit the road to see the Beastie Boys on the final night of their North American tour. On the shores of Lake Michigan we beatboxed and bobbed. My bro and his wife had a rare night without children and went with us. Holla at yo' boy. That trip also included a visit to scooterworks...where are Stella scooters were born. Very underwhelming and exciting at the same time. Is that possible? Got some chrome accessories that we've yet to put on the bikes. Sadly, they stayed stabled all fall. That's not acceptable.



Winter was good. We went to Lake Wister for Mark's birthday and took in the fall colors. It was nice to get out of town and remember what it was like when we were just dating. Not worrying about yours, mine and ours. We also made a trip home for Thanksgiving. My family through the first of our wedding showers...fun, fun. You don't realize how much stuff you might need until you spend the day at Macy's just putting things on a registry. Surely we need more kitchen stuff?



Mark's house was still for sale. Two house payments for one person is too much. We both got holiday retail jobs. I'm at Pier I, he's at the dreaded mall. We made it through December, a little worse for the wear, but I think we're recovering. Often we were working 18 hour days, while happy shoppers were oblivious and sometimes rude. But after all that, the house has sold. Well, I say sold while holding my breath. We still need to get the papers signed over ...and then we'll have some money again.



So we start 2008, older and wiser. My only hope is that this year will be less chaotic than last, but that's probably a little too optimistic.



I promise not to be so long-winded in 2008. A year is a lot to take stock of.