Welcome, 2008!

Please, please tell me you are nothing like your predecessor, who, if I may be blunt, was scary, rude, and finished the job of trashing my life begun by your other nasty relatives, 2001, 02 and 03. They were hateful bastards. I got lulled into a false sense of security when 04, 05 and 06 showed up and didn't do major harm. Yes, 04's three hurricanes hitting my house was not very amusing but I got off pretty easy, just needed a new roof, and 05 was just plain weird on the work front, and of course in 06 my father died, but 07 was truly one scary sonofabitch, he started off by trying to kill me and finished up by taking my job, and I am glad that bastard 07 is dead. Yes, I am.

So come on in, 08. Would you like some champagne, a beer, or maybe just a nice cup of tea? I'm hoping you are a calm, herbal-tea-drinking kind of year. Let me fix you a nice cup of Kava Stress Relief tea with some organic tupelo honey. I'll light a vanilla candle, and we'll meditate a little, and generally try to set the tone for the year. Sound good?

I am not making resolutions this year, at least no new resolutions. I have some ongoing things to address, and I don't need to take on any more. I do think that I will have to play the Creativity Game suggested by Queen Bess. And I plan to write more, walk more, take lots of pictures, and sleep more.

On a positive note, the stash issue of last year is truly behind me. I now have a stash that will fit nicely in a corner of a walk-in closet, and between now and the sale of the house I expect to reduce it a tad further. I am addressing the size and weight of the household on a daily basis these days. The cats have started weighing themselves. It made me happy yesterday to haul some of Girlchild's shit personal effects to her house. I am a ruthless thrower-outer these days, if I can't see myself needing it in the next 12 months it is finding a new home. It is truly a staggering undertaking to reduce almost 12 years of living in a 3 br. house with a garage and small attic to fit into a one br. w/den type apartment, I have been at this forever (read the archives if you doubt) but I think I can now see the finish line in the distance. It's getting down to the point where I can start to see what will be left after I bust ass a couple three more weeks fitting into an apartment. But damn it's hard, especially if you hate garage sales like I do. Give away, donate, Freecycle - that's my preference. And it feels good. It will get done.

Oh, and in case you were thinking it was all sunshine and butterflies with my mother for 08, fear not, she has not changed, and I know her too well to expect making the necessary changes to be anything but a full-blown nightmare. She's just afraid to say anything directly to me, because she lives in fear of causing my brain to erupt again (not a bad fear to live in, from my perspective, but it sucks for Cousin C because she gets to hear all the stuff my mother is afraid to say to my face). Cousin C called to report that my mother still isn't really getting it, and feels I am "rushing" to sell my house, she has begun to whine that I am "moving too fast." Constant Readers know that this has been in the works for about 2 years now, I was just dawdling and being lazy, using Girl and Dudley as my excuse. They are in their new home now and doing fine. I did tell my mother this was the plan all along - the layoff just made me get my ass in gear. But of course, whenever anyone does ANYTHING, for my mother it is "a terrible shock."

We haven't even taken the first tiny step to discuss relocating her beyond talking it up like potty training a 2 year old. ("Oh, it will be so much fun to move! You will love wearing big girl panties living someplace where you don't have to worry about maintenance!") I know that when the chips are down she will fight me until I say "Fine, you can stay here, I'm moving." Then she will throw a thousand drama fits. C gets it, of course, and tartly responded (with appropriate profanity) that I am smart, sensible, and I am "rushing" to do what is necessary to secure my own future, and if my mother cared about me she'd help, not hinder. Once again, Go, C.

C turns 65 this month, and I must do something suitably decadent to help her celebrate the occasion. Suggestions are welcome.

Tomorrow we are supposed to get down into the 30s, and that means I can break out the Maine Morning Mitts on the morning dog walk. Actually, if he wants to go really early I'll probably break out the MMM and the Clapotis.

My blog resolution - more pictures and more knitting. We'll see how well I do with that one.

Edited: Holy crap it is getting cold and windy out there. It will only last a day or two, but will probably take out a couple hundred bucks of plants as it whips by. I just covered my robust, healthy hibiscus. Fingers crossed that the plants survive.

So glad I have the Maine Morning Mitts.