I was leaving work at dusk. I walked out with my coworker Richard, we rode the elevator together and then parted ways. We didn’t talk much, just mumbled a few things about complaints we’d dealt with during the day.

 My car was parked in this hideous cement basement at my office. It was dark and gloomy, not an inviting place to be at all.

 I got in the car and switched on the lights, trying to figure out how to get out of the basement. I didn’t remember parking there or how I got in. Mine was the only car in the dimly lit room. I decided that all I could really do would be to circle the basement, scanning the walls with my headlights until I found a way out. It seemed to take a very long time to consider this and decide to act.

I wasn’t scanning the walls very long before I discovered an opening. It was littered with papers and boxes, and it wasn’t very wide….not the sort of opening that seemed to be meant for cars. I looked around again, but didn’t see any other way out. So I eased the car forward, slowly, deciding that even if I scraped the sides of my car as I went through the opening, I probably wouldn’t hurt the paint too much. If I just went slowly, I could probably buff out any scratches I might get.

The car went through much more gently than I expected. It connected with the walls, but just barely, nothing too bad. But as I came through, I noticed a concrete pole in front of me. Oh well, I decided, I’ll just bonk into it, there’s no other way to get out so I have no choice. I cringed as the front of the car connected with the pole. The sound was worse than I thought it would be. Once I was past the pole and had freed the car, I got out to inspect the damage.

Even though I hadn’t been moving fast, and even though I thought it hadn’t been that bad, the car was in terrible shape. The headlight was broken. Stomach lurching, I walked around the side and saw that the back roof of the car had been crushed down and the right side was caved in. I didn’t stop to consider how that had happened. I knew I couldn’t drive the car all the way home, so I called Paul.

“It doesn’t sound too bad,” he said when I told him about the damage. I was terribly embarrassed that I’d done this and did not tell him that I couldn’t find any other way out of the basement where I’d parked. “I’ll come take a look and we’ll get it taken care of.”

“It’s pretty bad,” I told him doubtfully, looking back at the ruins of my beautiful car.

And then I woke up.

It was Saturday morning, my alarm was going to go off in fifteen minutes, and it would be time to get up and go to the airport to leave for California. I rolled onto my side, mind swirling as I tried to process the dream I’d just woken from. Common sense had not played a very big part of the dream. How would I have gotten my car into a basement? And how would it be all smashed in just by rubbing up against a pole?  Silliness.

What a strange dream.

I’m leaving for vacation in a week in a half, and I’m seriously stressed.

I have never gone through this before. Always, in the past, I purely looked forward to vacation. I’ve never had a job where work was mine specifically to do. If I was gone, someone else would do it. Now, I’m worried about making sure all the complaints assigned to me have been responded to. Even if I manage to keep my own work up-to-date, regulatory agencies can come back and request more information at any time. Those requests come into my email inbox, so someone is going to have to be able to check those for me and be able to respond to them.

My boss seems remarkably unconcerned about this issue. I’m not sure if I regard his everything-will-be-all-right stance as a sign that I’m being too pessimistic and borrowing trouble, or if he’s not even realizing the chaos that could errupt. I love that this job is a challenge and I’m always learning something new, but at the same, the work is not leisurely and the deadlines are very serious. Today I didn’t even take my lunch hour until almost five at night because I was hammering out a complaint response.

The hectic schedule hasn’t done great things for my weight worries. This morning I set my alarm for 5am so that I could make it to the gym for step class before work. I slept badly and didn’t make it. Instead, I slept until 730. I’m tired, and these early mornings to work out feel a lot more like a punishment than something good I’m doing for myself. When I got to work, my meals for the day consisted of a cup of coffee and two cupcakes. On my late lunch hour, I made myself a bag of popcorn to munch on. NOT healthy. I’m too busy to remember to eat, which is bad, because when I do finally eat it’s whatever’s on hand and not good for me.

Tomorrow I’m going to do better. I’m trying out a different gym, doing strength training instead of an aerobics class. I can go in as early as 5am or as late in the morning as I can get away with before work. Since I have to be at work by nine, I’m thinking I can hit the gym around six and still be fine. Maybe that will help. I’m also stocking my drawers at work with healthy soups and snacks so that I can grab something easily that won’t be terrible for me to eat.

And there will be no cupcake vendors at the office tomorrow. So that will help.

Last weekend I cleaned our house. I know that sounds like a terribly mundane activity, but for me, it was truly mood-changing. I love my townhome when it’s freshly cleaned! It feels so Zen now. It’s completely changed the feeling I get when I arrive home. Just picking up the clutter and cleaning up has given the place a completely different vibe. A clean home is just so relaxing, whereas the dirty mess we WERE living in left me wanting to run far, far away and get out of there.

Saturday morning I’m going to get up early to work out and clean a little, then my buddy Sarah and I are going out to IHOP for brunch and then taking her five year old son to his school egg hunt. After that I’m off to the salon for a nice relaxing mani/pedi.

And then I have one week to completely clear out my inbox so that I can go on vacation.

Woohoo!

I must be losing my mind, because I stepped out of the laundry this morning, spotted a cat out of the corner of my eye, and made my usual kissy-kissy come-here-and-I’ll-pet-you noises. Except it wasn’t a cat, it was an empty container of litter, which is green and in no way shape or form resembles one of the felines that takes up residence around here.

Maybe I’m going a little nuts because instead of a nice spring week, it freaking snowed in places a couple days ago. On the upside, I’m starting to hear birds chirp, the sun is rising earlier, and flowers are coming back. I love dogwood trees because they are pink this time of year. It’s neat to drive down a street lined with dogwoods and see all the pink. For me, spring in Washington means the Mt. Vernon tulip festival. We went last year right after moving up, and I want to go again this year but I know Paul won’t want to do it on a weekend. I may take a day off during the week so we can go together since I love the tulips.

Spring also brings baseball, another thing I love. Paul got us tickets to Mariners games throughout the season, and I’m excited to go. Baseball on tv isn’t nearly as good as baseball in person, watching the game and being able to see the skyscrapers of Seattle in the background and hearing the train whistle while gorging myself on Rally fries. Ahhh, good times. We leave April 30th for a visit to California to see our families and to (hopefully) enjoy some warm SoCal sun. I want to sit on the Parkers’ back porch watching hummingbirds and drinking margaritas. I want to be able to wear light summer clothing without freezing my butt off. If the weather is going to be exceptionally nice, I may need to buy some new stuff. I don’t have a lot of T shirts and tank tops anymore. I haven’t needed them. Last summer there were only a few really hot days, so mostly I wore jeans. When we went camping on the beach for my birthday last July, I wore sweatshirts the whole time. Maybe I’m more aclimated now, but still, Washington doesn’t yield the hundred-plus degree weather I grew up in all summer long.

Today I’m driving to Tacoma to meet up with my cousin Melanie. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen her and I’m excited. She lives in Ridgefield, almost in Oregon, so we meet in the middle to have lunch and shop. Our plan today is to have lunch at BJ’s Brewery (and yes, I can only remember the name because when we picked it I was all, “heh, the name is BJ” and damn near snickered myself into an I’m-funny coma. I look up the address so I can program it into my GPS, and it’s time to get ready so I can hit the gas station and Starbucks on my way out of town. Hopefully I won’t be met with an April blizzards along the way.

So I’m at the gym Wednesday morning, waiting for step class to start. A thin blond starts talking to me, just casual banter. She tells me she and her husband own a business and have six kids. I tell her I work for the phone company, and live with my boyfriend and our pets. She asks how long Paul and I have been together, and I respond that it will be seven years in August. “That’s a long time! Why haven’t you gotten married?” she says.

 Grrrr. I loathe this question. There’s no good way to respond. The truth is tough: although Paul and I love each other, he doesn’t see himself getting married. It’s hard not to find it hurtful when the love of your life tells you, to your face, that he doesn’t want to marry you. But then I look at all the good things, and I don’t want to throw away a special relationship just because he won’t get dressed up and sign a piece of paper swearing to love me forever. Since I’ve been down that road, been married and divorced, I know that in the end that piece of paper will not hold a relationship together, will not fix what’s broken. It’s difficult for me. So when people ask, especially complete strangers, I usually smile and say that if we get married I want it to be perfect, and we just don’t have the money to make it perfect.

So yeah, I lie.

 I have similar issues when people start asking me when we’re going to have kids. “We don’t want kids,” I always reply. Now, not wanting kids has nothing to do with whether or not I like kids (not that I love the idea of being woken up throughout the night, paying up the ass for daycare, being spit up on, or fighting Paul on the issue of why we cannot name a child Farnsworth). On some levels, I would love to have a child of our own. But then I think about how financially unprepared we would be for one, how difficult it would be to even spend time with our own kid with as much as we work, and how very much we’d be on our own with the responsibility. Up until a year ago, I always figured that if we changed our minds about becoming parents, we would have help from our families. Now that we live in Washington and both our sets of parents are back in California, we wouldn’t have that help.

Kids and marriage aren’t the only things that people seem to feel they have every right to run their mouths about. Appearance is fair game as well. I had a coworker a few years ago that would see me and exclaim, “You look twelve! There is no way you are old enough to work here!” I was in my early twenties and not amused. Often I wondered what would happen if I were to respond, “Oh my, you look sooooo old! How are you still working? Shouldn’t your kids have put you in a home by now?” I know that if I’d said it, I would have been thought rude. Which makes me wonder why likening me to a middle schooler is socially acceptable.

Really, the majority of people find it perfectly okay to say things or inquire about subjects that are none of their business whatsoever. These conversations are unsolicited and, in my opinion, rude. Perhaps I will start voicing this viewpoint. A friend had a good suggestion. The next time someone asks me why I’m not married, she recommends that I should say, “Where are your manners?” When that person gets Shock Face and demands that I elaborate, I can reply to the tune of, “That’s a personal decision and none of yer damn business.”

 Or, something like that.

I’m actually sort of disappointed that I didn’t know the blond at the gym was going to bring up such subjects. If I had, I would have responded to her having six kids by saying, “Damn! Haven’t you ever heard of birth control? You guys must be proof that pulling out doesn’t work! Are you some of them Mormon folk?” I know there are things about my life (and I suppose my appearance) that are not the norm for a twenty-six-year-old. I’m just doing the best I can to make the right decisions and be happy. And even if I say nothing, what I’m thinking to all those who comment on my marital status, lack of offspring, and young looks is “Fuck off.”

I’ve let some time go by since I last updated my blog, and things have changed a lot. I was at home on my day off when I got a call from a supervisor at work named Doug. He was calling to tell me that he had just accepted a new position as the supervisor of a Customer Relations department, and was selecting people to come over and work for him. I was beyond excited by the job offer, especially since I was being hand-picked for it! I accepted on the spot, and today was my first day of training. My “official” start date in my new position will be April 1st. I think it’s a funny coincidence that on April 1st of last year, I received confirmation of my transfer to Washington being approved.
I will have five new coworkers, whom I know to varying degrees. Everyone seems really nice, and we’re all excited at the prospect of this new opportunity. We six have begun packing up our old desks in preparation for moving to a new area, and we were all ready to go this morning with learning our new jobs. Doug showed me today the new place where we’ll be sitting, and it’s fantastic! Granted, I will still have a cubicle, but it is by far the biggest cubicle I’ve ever had. I’ll have all the drawer and counter space I could ever want, plus two large overhead shelves for displaying things.
The job itself is pretty straightforward: we’ll be handling executive-level and government agency complaints, seeing them through to resolution. I feel excited and I think I’m as well-prepared for this new challenge as I can be. I’ve learned so much in the last seven months on the Jeop Desk. I know a lot more about systems and procedures than I did as a sales representative, and I’ve made some very valuable contacts throughout different departments that have taught me things I wouldn’t have ever known otherwise.
I moved to Washington a year ago in search of better opportunities for myself, and this job may be the biggest opportunity yet.

It’s Saturday, it’s snowing, and I’m at work. Today has been a pleasant contrast to the hectic days I’ve had since I’ve been back at work.

The Jeop Desk is officially coming to a close next week. Our last day together is March 1st, which is Tuesday. After that, the other CSSC people and I will be part of the IHD team (escalations team, support for sales people). The other people from other departments are either going back to their regular jobs or being put into new positions as the fiber technical support team takes over the work that the Jeop Desk has been doing.

This last week, it’s felt like we’re graduating from high school: everyone’s moving on to different things, our time together is limited, and we’ll never be together in a group like this again. I haven’t spent too much time dwelling on it, because I know it’ll make me sad. I’ve made a lot of good friends and learned a lot since August, and even though we always knew it was temporary, I didn’t know just how bummed I’d be to see it go.

For myself, I feel that if this were high school graduation, I would be one of the ones looking forward to a bright future, moving on to exciting things. There is talk of me transitioning from Jeop Desk to IHD permanently, not just for March, and I’m beyond excited. Almost a year ago when we moved here, I applied for IHD and didn’t get the position. If I do now, then I’ll have accomplished a goal. I will have proved myself.

I feel confident that good things are on the horizon for me. In the last seven months, I’ve found out what it’s like to both excel at and love my job. I wake up in the morning and get ready, without the pit of dread in my stomach knowing that I’m going someplace I can’t stand to be. I enjoy my work now, and I get satisfaction from it.

Things are good, and I’m optimistic that they will only get better.

Vacation has come and gone, and I went back to work today. It seems the beautiful snowstorms of Montana have followed us home to Washington, and Puget Sound was hit with flurries off and on since we’ve been back. I have to admit, I love the pretty snow, although I do get a bit less thrilled when I have to sit in my office and stare at it with barely a glance outside when I could be outside playing in it, or sitting in a cozy chair sipping tea and daydreaming while gazing at it. The one time I stopped what I was doing today to watch the snow fall, my trainer H quickly intervened and had me back to work. Tomorrow I have to go in at seven-thirty, and next week Paul’s schedule is changing completely and he’ll work 4 10’s, with his days off being Sunday, Wednesday, and Thursday. So, yeah, back to reality.

The trip was amazing. We took the snowmobiles out by ourselves on Thursday and Friday. Thursday, we didn’t really have a clear idea of what trails we would take, and we ended up having to turn around quite a few times. Completely by accident, we ended up at a little roadside diner for lunch. The lunch was delicious, I got a basket of chicken strips and french fries. The food was warm and filling and made me cozy as we got back on the snowmobile and rode back into the forest. By Friday we had our bearings and didn’t get lost as much. We liked the diner so much that we went back again. Our evenings were spent relaxing in the indoor hot tub, getting nice and warm and letting the jets massage our feet.

On Saturday, we had a day to just kick back, sleep in, and do some laundry (because we wore such heavy clothes, we decided it would be better to pack lighter and just wash clothes). We talked about going on an afternoon drive, but we were both feeling lazy and ended up just kickinbg back. We spent a blissful afternoon lounging in bed, watching reruns of “Friends”.

Sunday we were back in adventure mode, and boarded a snow coach tour that took us on a day trip to Old Faithful. Since we had done the route already, on the snowmobiles, I was a little worried that it would be a repeat of what we already knew. I was pleasantly surprised that Doug, our tour guide, was very focused on geology and taught us a lot about Yellowstone that I didn’t know before. Now I know that the park was the very first national park that was established (okay, a lot of people probably know that already). The park was established all the way back in 1872, when most people had to come in on stagecoach. The railroads started transporting passengers to Yellowstone, and luxurious hotels were built to house the rich travelers. One, the Fountain Hotel, was built in a clearing and had warm water, due to the thermal features of the Lower Basin. When the hotel was no longer deemed safe structurally, it “mysteriously” caught fire (luckily, all the furniture had been removed beforehand!). We learned that eighty percent of Yellowstone is covered in trees, and of that, eighty percent are Lodgepole Pines. We learned that the proper name for elk is wapiti, which means “white butt”. If you see an elk, it’s true. We learned that the thermal features in the park cannot be named after people or ideas, but must have descriptive names. Rivers can be named after people….the Madison River, for example, was named after James Madison. But thermal features have to have names that describe their unique features.

There’s a lot more, those were just a few of the interesting things that we learned when we were on tours. All three of our tour guides were awesome! When we took out the snowmobiles the first day, we had a guide named Cynthia who was both very good at making sure we were comfortable driving the snowmobile, but was also very knowledgeable about the park, its history, and its wildlife. On our first snow coach tour, we had a sweet man named Old Tim as a guide. He’s lived in West Yellowstone for over sixty years and he had a wealth of knowledge about the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone (which he took us to tour), and points beyond. We got great experiences from all of our tours.

The trip was so fun, I’m incredibly glad we got to do it together. I feel so close to Paul after getting to spend an entire week together, no work, no stress. We were truly the best of ourselves on the trip, relaxed and having fun.

I haven’t written in this blog in awhile, so I decided to get back into it by writing about our recent trip to Yellowstone. We had a really great time on our trip!
We started our vacation on Sunday, the day before Valentine’s Day. We drove east, taking in breathtaking views of Snoqualmie Pass. Once we got to the other side of the pass, the landscape became very familiar, very high desert…much like Victorville actually. It was a bit boring to look at, not what I think of at all when I think of Washington state. I’m so glad we live in the Puget Sound area and not further east.
We had lunch in Spokane, at Chili’s (yay Southwestern egg rolls!) and then continued on to Idaho Falls for gas. I haven’t really spent any time in Idaho, and I didn’t on this trip either. Before I knew it we’d crossed over into Montana. We stopped for the night at a Holiday Inn in Missoula, then found a yummy little hole in the wall Mexican place that was very generous with the tequila in their margaritas.
On Valentine’s Day, Monday, we slept in and found a local diner that served us fabulous bacon, as well as french toast for Paul and eggs for me. We began driving across Montana. The state is a pleasant mix of pretty mountain areas and flat grasslands. We stopped for lunch in Bozeman, and found a Johnny Carino’s, which is another one of my favorite restaurants. There’s one in Mt. Vernon but we don’t get up that way very often. We split a family-portion of Spicy Romano Chicken so that we would have leftovers to eat for dinner, and in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, got a raspberry tiramisu to split for dessert after dinner.
After about another eighty miles of windy, riverside road, we made it to West Yellowstone. There isn’t much open this time of year, but I did spy a few restaurants and stores with their ‘Open’ signs lit up. We parked and checked into our condo and hauled our massive load of stuff up to our room. Our room is fabulous. It has all this cool woodsy-looking furniture (which was actually made in Seattle, go figure), and lots of nice comforts, including a full kitchen so we could prepare our own meals if we didn’t want to go to a restaurant.
On Tuesday, we had our guided snowmobile tour. Not gonna lie, I was nervous. I’ve never driven a snowmobile before and I was intimidated. Paul and I went to the office of the tour we’d chartered, and once we’d checked in the staff began outfitting us. I’d had no idea this would be happening. I’d worn warm clothes: thermal shirt and pants, jeans, hiking boots, sweatshirt, and heavy jacket. We were provided with snow suits that were a lot like the one-piece driving suits my brother wore for drag racing, as well as helmets, heavy-duty mittens, and boots. I hadn’t realized how warm the suit would be or how little I would need my jacket, and we put our coats in the back of the Jeep. Our guide was Cynthia, a smiling woman who knew her way around Yellowstone and around a snowmobile. She walked us through the operation, and it was actually remarkably easy.
Paul drove first, and we headed into the park. Not too far into our ride, we spotted some elk on the bank of the Madison River and pulled over to look at them. Once we were back on the trail, we spotted a bald eagle sitting in its enormous nest. Cynthia told us that the eagle was about four years old, then asked us how she would know this. Paul correctly answered that she knew because the eagle’s head was white, and eagle heads do not turn white until they’re about three to four years old. He grew up around eagles in Washington so he knows this stuff. I was just impressed to be with the person who knew the right answer.
We quickly discovered that we would see a LOT of bison in Yellowstone National Park. See, bison seem very unfazed by snowmobiles, and are content to lumber on down the road whether there are vehicles present or not. Cynthia would guide us to either ride past them, keeping very close together, or to stop and get off our snowmobiles, standing on the opposite side of the bison and keeping the machines between the animals and ourselves. We had a few opportunities that day to put these instructions into practice. I was in awe of the bison. They are truly amazing animals, and up close, I could really tell how big and powerful they are.
We stopped for a quick lunch and a viewing of the eruption of Old Faithful. I’d never seen a geyser go off before, and was pretty impatient to see this one. When it finally launched water in the air, I was amazed at this natural phenomenon. Old Faithful is way, way better than the fountains at the Bellagio, to say the least.
After Old Faithful it was time to make our way out of the park. We did make a detour to see a waterfall off of the Firehole River. It was a sunny evening, perfect for seeing the waterfall. After that we continued on the main trail back into Montana (most of our park viewings were in Wyoming), and back to the rental store.
Our first few days of vacation have been amazing. I will continue writing about the trip soon.

Our trip is over and I went back to work today…what a crazy weekend!! I traded shifts with Bob on Friday so I could be off by three thirty, which gave me just enough time to stop at Costco for cat litter, take a shower, and pack my stuff. We were on the road by six, with a quick stop at Wendy’s for dinner. Paul did the first round of driving. I ate my dinner, and tried to fall asleep early (which should have been easy, since I woke up at five-thirty that morning). The sleeping didn’t go so well, so I dozed at best until about two-thirty in the morning when we switched places and it was my turn to drive.

I happened to take the wheel just in time to drive through the Siskiyou mountain range. This can be a nerve-wracking place to drive in the winter, as it’s prone to snowstorms. In fact, outrageous snow in that same mountain pass was the reason we got stuck in Redding on our move up to Washington. That morning, though, it was free of snow but full of fog. I had to slow down considerably to be able to see where I was going, and despite downing a Red Bull and a 5 hour energy shot, I felt myself fighting sleep by six-thirty and had to trade places with Paul. He’d already driven for eight and a half hours, but he dutifully took over and I passed out in the passenger seat.

I woke up about an hour later, when Paul was pulling into a Starbucks. My knee was throbbing, and I was worried that I’d hurt it during my workouts all week. I really hoped it’d loosen up once I’d had sleep in a real bed and resigned myself to pain for the remainder of the day.

Please note: this did not stop me from complaining about the pain in my knee periodically, just to let Paul know that yes, it still hurt.

I drove the rest of the distance into Newark, a city south of San Francisco. We met up with Andy, Kristen, and Jesse in the parking lot of their hotel, and Kristen and I took off to get coffee while the boys started the install of the new Jeep bumper. It was a beautiful, sunny morning. Latte in hand, I spent the morning soaking up the sun while the guys worked.

All too soon, the bumper was on, pictures had been taken, and it was time to get out of town. We bid goodbye to our friends, and I felt sad leaving them behind. Andy, Kristen, and Jesse are three of the nicest and best people I’ve ever met. Moments like that sometimes make me a bit sad that we moved away, because weekends with them were really one of the best things about our old life in California. Sigh. I love living in Washington, but sometimes, it surfaces for me just how much I miss people we left behind.

I volunteered to drive since Paul had done most of the overnight driving. I stopped at an El Pollo Loco so we could have lunch. El Pollo Loco is one of our favorite restaurants, and since it’s not in Washington, we have to grab it when we can. Delicious! After lunch I got back on the highway, took a wrong exit, and took us through city traffic. It was a warm sunny afternoon and I started feeling sleepy instantly. Fighting drowsiness, I rolled the window down to get some cool, fresh air. It definitely felt more like a spring day than one in mid-January.

I drove for hours, until we finally reached Medford Oregon (we did make a stop at a BevMo to stock up on cheap booze and at a truck stop Wendy’s to say hello to Paul’s cousin Jennifer, who works at the fast food restaurant and is super nice). We had a quick dinner at a diner next to our hotel, then settled into our room for some sleep. We’d talked about going to Crater Lake on Sunday, but the weather forecast was calling for heavy rain so it wouldn’t have been very pretty. We decided instead to just sleep as well as we could and then get back on the road.

It wasn’t the best bed in the world, and the pillows were far too poufy for my taste, but it felt amazing to be lying down in a real bed and not curled up in the passenger seat of the Jeep. I fell asleep almost immediately and didn’t wake up for about ten hours. When I did awaken, I’d completely forgotten where I was and thought I was in my bed at home. It took me a minute to remember that I was at a Best Western in Medford. I returned to sleep, and didn’t wake up again for about another hour. The pain in my knee had subsided, and I was in good spirits.

We checked out of our room and hit the road again, and I was very excited that we made it to Eugene by lunchtime and that there was a Chili’s (yay, more food we can’t get in Washington!). We had soup and split an appetizer of Southwestern Egg Rolls and spinach and artichoke dip for lunch. I beyond love Chili’s and ahhhh I was happy to get to eat at two of my favorite places on our trip.

So now we’re home. It was a whirlwind trip but we had a blast and I’m glad we did it. The Jeep looks awesome, we saw some of our dearest friends, and we got to enjoy sunshine, warm weather, and delicious food. Now I’m looking forward to our next adventure, our vacation to Yellowstone in February.

Happy New Year!!

The last few days have gotten incredibly cold and clear, which for the Northwest means icy. Temperatures have been in the teens and twenties, and it’s making everything slippery. New Year’s Eve, Paul and I stayed in out of the cold. We didn’t exactly party hard: we had one margarita each along with our plates of enchiladas. We watched South Park, Family Guy, and Robot Chicken. I took a bath and finished a book while Paul napped on our bed.

We were both asleep by midnight, although I did wake up around that time because the neighbors were shooting off fireworks. And to me, it was a great night.

New Year’s Day, I tackled my most hated project: the un-Christmasing of the house. I took down all the garland, all the bows, all the cute little figurines. I put the Nutcrackers back in their boxes. I stripped the tree of its topper and ornaments, and enlisted the help of Paul to jam the thing back into its narrow box and put it back on its high shelf in the garage. I discovered that my cats had been taking soft little beanbag characters out of their display place in the downstairs bathroom and systematically removing their hats, hair, and heads. This devious work had been hidden under the Christmas tree skirt. I put all the pieces away, leaving them for my future self to deal with in Thanksgiving of 2011 when next I put out Christmas stuff.

Once the house was back to normal, Paul and I loaded up plates with the festive foods he’d made: Chex Mix, fresh cut veggies, ham and turkey, crackers, and cheese. We spent the afternoon relaxing and watching Food Network. There’s a show we’ve discovered called Worst Cooks in America. I love that show. It’s beyond entertaining. While we watched, I baked and decorated some cupcakes. I think I’ve finally figured out how to frost them the way I like: I cut out the middles, then using a star piping tip, I fill the hole and then just keep on piping to make a perfect little plop of icing. Beautiful! I only wished I’d discovered that sooner than I had, as I only had three cupcakes left at that point. But, point being, something finally clicked for me. And anyway, who doesn’t want a cupcake that’s stuffed with frosting?

Angela and her hubby invited us to their house for games and food, so Paul made another batch of his awesome Chex Mix and I loaded up the cupcakes. We ended up having a blast playing a game. There were eight people total, plus an undetermined amount of excited children who were continually being shooed upstairs away from the adults and our game.

Great New Year’s. I ate waaaay too much last night but Angela and I decided that the eating part of our resolutions could wait one day.