The year in review

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before? Lived in this house. Ate a lychee. (Never again!) Um ... that's all I can think of. I need to be more adventurous in 2010.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I didn't make specific resolutions this year. I'm planning to make a big five-year list of goals within the next few days, so we'll see how well I do with those.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? We're not very close, but one of P's cousins had a little boy called Landon.

4. Did anyone close to you die? No, thank God.

5. What countries did you visit? None.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009? More money and free time would be good, but realistically, I'd like more cooperation from G in day-to-day life. I should not have to fight with an 11-year-old over basic tasks like showering and brushing teeth.

7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? ... You know, I can't think of any. I'm probably missing something huge.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Keeping all the plates spinning at work and home.

9. What was your biggest failure? I let both of us get severely over-scheduled this autumn.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I had to have an emergency root canal in April. It was excruciating.

11. What was the best thing you bought? G's laptop -- it's helped her with schoolwork, provided her with hours of entertainment, and freed up MY laptop for my own use.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Hm, not sure.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? The balloon boy's parents. What a pair of tools.

14. Where did most of your money go? Housing, food, various bills. On the entertainment side, books and going to the movies.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Nothing really.

16. What song will always remind you of 2009? Boom Boom Pow by the Black Eyed Peas.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: (a) happier or sadder? (b) thinner or fatter? (c) richer or poorer? About the same in all three categories.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Traveling

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Procrastinating

20. How did you spend Christmas? At home with G and then visiting relatives.

21. Did you fall in love in 2009? Nope

22. What was your favorite TV program? I don't really watch TV, but I did like Primeval on BBC America.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? I don't think I really hate anyone. Dislike, yes, but not hate.

24. What was the best book you read? Un Lun Dun by China Mieville. I'm also finally reading Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, which P bought me for Christmas six years ago, and enjoying it.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery? I don't think I made any new discoveries, but I remembered how much I like Peter Gabriel, who somehow keeps writing good songs even after 30-plus years.

26. What did you want and get? A bigger place to live.

27. What did you want and not get? A new digital camera.

28. What was your favorite film of this year? An Education

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I went to work and then took G to a Girl Scout meeting. I was 38.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? More free time.

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009? LOL! I don't think I've ever had a "personal fashion concept" in my life. I did wear a lot more dresses this year, especially in the summer.

32. What kept you sane? The sheer force of my iron will.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Either David Tennant or Liam Neeson.

34. What political issue stirred you the most? Health care

35. Who did you miss? P, of course.

36. Who was the best new person you met? I don't think I've met anyone at all this year, outside of work.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009. How to identify and eradicate lice on a child's head. :)

That's a wrap

It was a surprisingly good Christmas. G loved her gifts and the money she raked in from relatives. I actually got a few small presents of my own, which was unexpected but nice. We went to Mass at my brother-in-law's ritzy church in Santa Monica, where a rather well-known actress tried and failed to take our reserved second-row seats before we got there. (Sorry, [famous name]. Hope it wasn't too crowded for you out in the standing-room-only vestibule.) My other brother-in-law and I went to see Sherlock Holmes and loved it. And no one fought with anyone else, or if they did, they did it where I couldn't hear them.

Tomorrow G and I are taking the Amtrak train up to Santa Barbara for the day, which should be fun. I just checked the weather forecast and there's a 60-percent chance that it won't rain (how's that for optimism? LOL) but we'll bring umbrellas just in case. I'm actually looking forward to the ride itself more than anything; I love traveling on trains, and it will be nice to sit back and read a book and not worry about flat tires and crazy drivers. Then on Thursday, my mother will be in town for New Year's Eve and we're scheduled to have a late lunch and do a little shopping with her. It should be a nice, quiet end to the year.

Yet more kid art

She certainly didn't get her artistic ability from me - I can't draw a damn thing!

Pass the jam please

Every year since P died, one of the things that's bothered me most is not having any presents to open on Christmas morning. It's not as if I need anyone to buy me presents - if I see a book or a knickknack or a pair of earrings I like, I usually buy it for myself then and there. I have enough perfume and shower gel to scent half the city; my kitchen is overflowing with pans and gadgets I hardly use; and if I want to watch movies I can borrow them from Netflix. Still, I never fail to feel a little sorry for myself as I sit on the floor, bleary-eyed and empty-handed, watching G tear the shiny paper off her gifts. I love seeing her happy and excited, of course; that undercurrent of dejection is an instinctual thing, programmed sometime in my own childhood, when being overlooked by Santa would have been as bad as having your birthday forgotten.

Last year I did get a present a little later on Christmas Day, while we were visiting a relative's house. It was a variety pack of Knotts Berry Farm jam, wrapped, but with no ribbon or tag, and it was very clearly one of those gifts that people buy in bulk and keep on hand in case someone turns up unexpectedly and they haven't got anything to give them. The funny part was that I was actually pleased to receive it, because hey! A package to unwrap! If you've ever seen the Peanuts strip where Schroeder berates Violet for giving Charlie Brown a used Valentine, and then Charlie Brown interrupts him and says "I'll take it," well, that was me and my box of jam.

So, with Christmas a week away, I'm mentally preparing myself for yet another holiday in which the best I can hope for is nine different flavors of jam. (It was good jam, by the way. I just finished eating it all a couple of months ago.) I could buy myself a present and wrap it up, of course. I wouldn't even have to spend my own money, since my mother sent me a check earlier this week with instructions to buy something for myself and G. But it wouldn't be the same feeling as getting up in the morning and having surprise packages to open, with presents inside that were chosen just for me. Spoiled? Selfish? Maybe, but there it is.

The scent of paranoia

Today I took a day off to go Christmas shopping while G was at school. This is the first year since 2005 that I've done any serious Christmas shopping, and I had forgotten that my fellow human beings start losing their veneer of civilization the day after Thanksgiving, only to become downright feral by mid-December. But they do. Holy crap.

So, off I went to spend money and watch altercations between my fellow shoppers, including a pair of very large ladies who nearly came to blows when one of them backed her electric scooter into the other's electric scooter, and a mother who was yelling "DAMN IT, ISABELLA, COME ON, I'M GETTING A HEADACHE" at her three-year-old, who didn't appear to be doing anything particularly awful. Although having had a three-year-old once, I imagine it was probably the breaking point in a long day of frustration.

Anyway, after two hours of that, I was starving and had to pee, so I left to get lunch at Rubio's and use their restroom. I collected my order and went back to my car, and as soon as I slid into the driver's seat and closed the door, I was hit by a powerful wave of men's cologne. It's been a couple of weeks since a guy has ridden in my car, and then it was a friend who doesn't wear that stuff, so this was disturbing.

In rapid succession, these thoughts flashed through my mind:

1. Oh my God, an insane rapist/murderer has broken into my car and is hiding in the cargo area, waiting for me to drive home so he can rape and murder me at his leisure.

2. He must be a complete idiot. What sort of criminal douses himself with Axe before he goes out to do his raping and murdering?

I turned around to look into the back seat (not sure what I was planning to do if there was actually someone there ... beat him over the head with my bag of cheese enchiladas, I guess) and as I did, I caught a whiff of my own hand and realized that the smell was coming from me. Apparently, the liquid hand soap in the bathroom at Rubio's smells exactly like men's cologne.

Oops.

At least I didn't call 911 or anything. That would have been a tough one to explain.

The grim realist

G: Marcus (a kid in her class) has been in the hospital for four days.
Me: Why is Marcus in the hospital?
G: I don't know. He's really sick. Today we all prayed that he wouldn't be dead. He was fine four days ago.
Me: Maybe tomorrow you'll find out that he got to go home.
G: Or something worse.
Me: Probably not, though. Most people who are in the hospital get better and leave.
G: Yeah, but not all of them.

It seems like an awfully fatalistic attitude for a 10-year-old to take, but I guess given her personal experience, it's hard for her to be blithely confident about these things.

I hope Marcus is okay.

A milestone

This year marks the first Christmas ever that G hasn't wanted any toys. I saw it coming last year, when her list started to veer away from toys toward other things, but this year, none at all. Instead, she wants a video flip cam and Sims 2 expansion packs and lots of movies. She wants an iPod Touch. She wants some purple fingerless gloves and a matching scarf she saw at Claire's. She wouldn't be averse to clothes if they were the right kind. (Wanting the "right kind" of clothes, which to her means dark skinny jeans and hoodies and Converse-style sneakers and anything with peace signs on it, is also a new thing this year. At least she doesn't care about the actual labels yet.) The one toy-like item she asked for is the Clue board game, which I will get her even though she'll have to invite friends over to play it -- she and I have trouble with board games because most of them are designed for three or more players, and there are only two of us.

I haven't said so to her, but all this has caused me to reminisce soppily about her first Christmas, when she was not quite a year old and had just started toddling, and her presents were wooden puzzles and Sesame Street videos (no DVDs yet then) and board books galore. She had recently said her first word, which was "cat," and when a relative gave her a tiny faux-leopard fur coat on Christmas night, she looked into the box with a bewildered expression and asked "Cat?" which made everyone around her fall over laughing. And I can't help wondering where that curly-haired baby went, or wishing her father were here to wonder and remember too.

I used to think it must be hard to live a very long life, 100 years or more, because eventually you would be the only one who remembered your past: everyone else would either be dead or wouldn't have been born yet. Now I have an idea how that must feel. There are plenty of people who remember Christmas 1999, but no one in this world but me remembers sitting in the living room of our apartment on that sunny December morning, helping baby G play with her new toys. No one at all.

Out with the old year

I am so ready for this year to be over, I can't tell you. It isn't even as if it was a bad year; I'm just done with it. Bring on 2010.

This reminds me of the way I felt the last few weeks I was pregnant with G -- coincidentally, also around Christmas -- when I was fed up with being pregnant and wanted her to be born already. I had to keep going to work because I didn't have any vacation time (I worked until a week past my due date, terrifying the guy across the aisle, who was certain the baby would just fall out of me as I sat at my desk ... if only it had been that easy), so I would drag myself through the day, then come home and sit on the sofa with a bag of assorted Mother's Cookies until it was time to go to bed. I feel just like that now, only without the cookies. Where are my cookies, dammit?!

Time management and the messy bedroom

I just sent G to clean her room and told her not to come out, except to use the bathroom or get a drink of water, until she's finished. If history is any indicator, this means I won't see her again for three hours, the first two hours and forty-five minutes of which she will spend watching movies and doing time-consuming but nonessential tasks.

Last time we went through this exercise, I suggested that she concentrate on activities that make a visible difference in the tidiness of the room, e.g., making the bed, picking up dirty clothes and shelving books. Instead, when I came in to see how she was doing, I discovered that she had been arranging her DVD cases in alphabetical order. I think this is a ploy to avoid doing any real work by pleading that she's been "cleaning" ALL DAY - never mind that if she tried, she could do the whole thing in 20 minutes and be done with it. I don't expect perfection, just reasonable orderliness and a floor clear enough to vacuum. Sigh.

ETA: In the end, she finished in just over an hour and did a very good job. Color me impressed!

Great literature it ain't

Uncle Walter's Bad Romance Novel Covers

Classic!

Thanksgiving, slightly modified

As I've said before, Thanksgiving is not a holiday with much appeal for me. I don't eat turkey, I hate football (sorry, P, wherever you are), I don't like driving in heavy traffic, and forced socializing is about as much fun as a long, sharp straight pin through my retina. I'm totally down with the idea of doing something to mark the day and celebrate my many blessings; I just think it should be something that I enjoy. So here's my list of Thanksgiving traditions I would like to see catch on:

Side Dish Dinner
Cranberries, green beans, olives, cheese, crackers, potatoes, stuffing, Parker House rolls, three kinds of pie ... and no dead bird.

Jazz Hands
Instead of watching football after dinner, everyone piles into the car and goes to see a huge, splashy Broadway musical. If this isn't possible, I would consider watching televised football if the players were required to sing about it every time they made a touchdown.

Far Apart, Together
The whole family meets up on Facebook and IMs about what they're cooking and how big the kids are getting. All the interaction without the need to get dressed and drive for miles, plus if someone irritates you, you can just make yourself invisible.

Reading is Fundamental
Everyone brings the book of his or her choice to Thanksgiving dinner and reads it at the table while eating. Bonus points if you read something with a Puritan flair, like The Crucible or The Scarlet Letter.

The Witching Hour
Thanksgiving merges with my favorite holiday, Halloween. Dinner is served at midnight on a black-draped table lined with candelabras while live ravens watch from cobweb-hung perches on the walls. When it's your turn to say what you're thankful for, you have to hold a flashlight under your chin and speak in a sepulchral Vincent Price voice.

Sadly, I doubt we'll see any of these refreshing changes anytime soon. People are so set in their ways. But if I take over the world ... look out!

The shot heard 'round the world

Fifth grade in California means U.S. history, and U.S. history, as we all know, starts with the Revolutionary War. Because the school hates me and knows I'm a 10-thumbed eejit when it comes to sewing and crafts, they are staging Walk Through the American Revolution at the beginning of December, and I'm required to produce an eighteenth-century costume for G to wear. This is much more complicated than last year's Walk Through California, when she wore a long skirt, a white blouse and carried a fan, and looked just like a Spanish lady ... sort of.

The good news is that G isn't being too picky about her costume this year, although she did caution me, upon bringing the flier home, "I'm not gonna dress like a dude." (Which is too bad, because I have a velvet blazer that would have looked lovely with some leggings and long socks.) The bad news is that I have about two weeks to figure something out without spending a fortune. I wish I still had the dress my mother sewed for me to wear when my sixth-grade class reenacted the Civil War a million years ago in 1982. She made it out of a yellow bed sheet, and it looked amazing. Why can't I do things like that?

Rationalization 101

Q: Are Bagel Bites and orange slices a nourishing dinner for a growing child?

A: Of course they are! Because there's fruit! Fresh, nutritious, vitamin-packed fruit! Heck, I could serve her a Crisco sandwich on white bread, and it would be okay as long as I put half a banana on the side. Fruit makes everything all right.

... Right?

I was that girl once

While shopping at Target by myself today, I was passing the shoe section when I saw a woman around my age, trailed by a blonde girl who looked a year or so older than G. The girl had a pissed-off expression on her face and was walking with her arms folded huffily across the front of her little blue Hollister T-shirt. Her mother looked harassed, but determined to be patient. I eavesdropped on them:

Mother: I really don't think she wore heels at 12.
Girl (in bitchy voice): Yes, she DID.
Mother: Well, I think it's too young. You'll fall off.
Girl (in even more bitchy voice): No, I WON'T.

I managed not to laugh out loud, but I did snort to myself as I rolled my cart toward the shampoo and toothpaste. Oh, tween girls. You're lucky we don't sell you all to the gypsies.

Wow

Letter G received at school today:

To the parents of [G's name]:

It gives me great pleasure to inform you that [G] will soon receive an invitation to attend a 2010 People to People World Leadership Forum in Washington, D.C. She was nominated for this honor by [Mrs. R, her former teacher and the supervisor of the school newspaper she founded last year] of [her school], who believes [G] to be an outstanding student with high academic standing and promising leadership potential.

People to People International was founded in 1956 by U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower on the premise that peace can be achieved through understanding. Making a difference in the world begins with developing your child's own leadership skills, and the World Leadership Forum offers a unique opportunity for [G] to join other highly motivated and accomplished students from around the globe.

You can find more detailed information in [G's] forthcoming official invitation or online at People to People. In the meantime, congratulations on [G's] many achievements. I hope that your family can take advantage of this educational program to further her as a young leader.

We just spent some time reading about this online, and it's really quite cool. It's a 5-7-day program and you have to be nominated by an educator to attend. It's also extremely expensive, so I don't know yet whether she'll be able to go (or whether I'll be able to go with her, which will be a deciding factor at this age) but if I can make it happen, I will -- it sounds like a great opportunity and an experience she'd never forget.