Ah… the end of the year. The time when I like to sit back and take a moment to reflect on what I did or didn’t accomplish over the past 12 months, and think about what I’d like to try to do over the next dozen.

I sat down last Sunday afternoon and went over my finances. I finished paying the December bills, including my quarterly water bill that was actually double because I’d misplaced and then forgotten about last quarter’s bill. (Funny… I never misplace the bills I can pay online… I wish the city would get with the technology.)

Anyway, I wrote the single check for the water bill, paid everything else online and spent the rest of the holiday weekend feeling satisfied that I would be starting 2008 off on the right foot.

That feeling last until I brought the mail in yesterday and discovered the check for the water bill had bounced. WTF???

I logged into my bank account and frantically scanned the list of transactions. At first look, nothing was out of the ordinary. No strange numbers showing up. But the ending balance showed that yes, I was overdrawn. What the hell did I do??

And then it hit me. For the first time in four years, I neglected to deduct my bi-weekly mortgage payment from my checking out balance. Yep. That would do it.

So much for starting off 2008 on the right foot.

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Thank you, Andrea, for being the first person to comment on my blog since November.

It makes me feel infinitely better to read posts from my favorite bloggers saying they’ll be back after the first of the year. I don’t feel so guilty for not paying proper attention to this place. it’s hard to get motivated to keep writing when there’s little, if any, feedback. Or email responses to questions I’ve asked.

As for what I’ve been doing, well… today I spent the better part of the day in bed. In between napping and clutching my abdomen while wanting to die, I pondered the mysteries of life.

I’ve been making slow progress on my 101 things list. I think I’m up to 27. I realized this week that no matter how much I would love to throw my hat into the ring of freelance writing, there is one thing that will consistently trip me up: the lack of a place in which to write undisturbed. I have no office here since both boys moved back home. My desk is currently set up in the living room, which is fine when no one is home, but exasperating when I’m not alone.

Example: on Monday, I was attempting to respond to something I read on Toledo Talk. The Boyfriend asked me if he could check his eBay auctions because something was going to end in about six minutes. I said, “Just let me finish this. I’ll be done in less than a minute.” I continued to rapidly type out my thoughts and then out of the blue, he mentioned that he has to work on New Year’s Eve. In an instant, I was no longer thinking about my T2 post, because I was upset about the fact that our plans for New Year’s are now completely screwed up.

This kind of thing happens all the time. It’s not always The Boyfriend. Sometimes it’s JM, telling me about something that happened at work that day. Or JL, asking me what he should do about school.

I think it’s a carryover from when they were all younger. When Mom is available, there’s no need to bother her. But the minute she answers the phone… ALERT! ALERT! PARENTAL ATTENTION HAS BEEN DIVERTED! The children that were previously playing quietly are now picking fights with each other and/or tapping your arm while repeating, “Mom. Mom. Momma. Mom. MOM. MOMMEEE!” increasing in urgency until you finally cover the mouthpiece and say, “WHAT?” only to be asked, “What are you doing?”

There is a reason I like cats. They only bother me when it’s feeding time.

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This year for Christmas, the boys and I will be doing something that we have never been able to do: stay home.

About three months ago, I started thinking how cool it would be if the boys and I could just hang out at home all day in our pajamas and play board games. JM and I had a board game marathon last Christmas Eve and it was actually quite fun with just the two of us. It can only be better with three of us, right?

I like small groups of people with whom I feel comfortable. But the holidays tend to throw out situations very different from what I crave. After more than 25 years of my dad and stepmom being together (they started dating when I was 14), I think it’s a safe bet that I’m never going to have a close relationship with my two older stepsisters and their families. And even though I get along great with the youngest, I’d still prefer to hang out with her and her sons when there aren’t a lot of people around. The same goes for my dad and stepmom.

After six years, I’m still not very comfortable with The Boyfriend’s family. It helps that The Boyfriend and I have visited his grandma in NJ a few times, and that his one brother and sister-in-law have hung out with us on several occasions. It helps that his mom is the exact opposite of my former mother-in-law and that we’ve gone to concerts with his parents. But get everyone together in one room and I will soon be on the lookout for a quiet moment in the corner.

It’s easier when things are on my own turf. I never had a problem hosting Acoustic Slumber Parties, although I still did seek that quiet time now and then.

As difficult as large groups have always been (I can recall dreading large family gatherings even when I was a kid), holidays were even worse after my husband died. With my built-in buffer gone, I had to face the music alone and in the midst of grief. I’m not sure I’ve ever completely recovered.

Maybe that’s part of the reason it was important to me not to go anywhere this year. I’ve never had, in the 12 years since my husband has gone, a Christmas Day at home with just my kids and nowhere we have to be. It’s sounding more and more to me like the perfect Christmas.

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Thank you, Lunarpages, for getting back to me so quickly about my lost password issue. On a Friday night before a holiday, I certainly didn’t expect to have a response within 10 minutes; let alone a response that would quickly allow me to resolve the issue.

There’s a reason I’ve been a customer for the last three years, and why I recommend them to people who are looking for web hosting. Their prices are right, I’ve rarely experienced downtime and they’re quick to respond to trouble tickets. This wasn’t an emergency situation. I could have waited until next week for the information I needed. But thanks to their customer service, I didn’t have to do so.

Lunarpages, you rock.

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Wow. No posts in a week. How low have I sunk?

(Don’t answer that.)

I could blame my lack of posts on the fact that I’m working 8 to 5 right now and it’s thrown off my whole internal clock. Or I could blame it on the fact that I’m busy trying to prepare for the holidays. Or I could just say I was distracted by something shiny.

There’s probably an element of truth to all of it, along with an absolute lack of anything to say.

I’ve had a lot on my mind this past week, most of which I don’t want to get into here right now. I am, however, significantly more relaxed after a phone call this morning. One little phone call with one little piece of information makes all the difference in strengthening my resolve to make some serious changes. I needed a boost, and a boost I received.

This is very vague, I realize. Some of it might become clearer in the coming months. I’ve decided that I’m going to participate in 101 Things to do in 1001 Days. I’ve been reading Denise’s updates on her blog and this is an intriguing idea; and one that really does fit in with the original intent of this blog. Imagine that!

The hard part is coming up with my list. I’ve been working on it in bits and pieces, but I think this weekend I’ll have to set aside a block of time for it specifically. I like reading some of the other lists, because they frequently remind me of stuff I want to do (finish). Typing that particular sentence just reminded me of three more things to add.

So, who’s with me? Anyone else want to try this out? Even if you don’t have a blog, you can join me. I can post your list along with mine and update it here as you cross things off. I don’t have a target start date. I’ll start when my list is ready and not a moment before.

Alright then, that’s all I have to say for now. Other than TGIF and please cross your fingers that today will go by quickly, because yes, I’m at work and yes, it’s very slow, which means I not only have time to write this post, but I have time to contemplate the meaning of what my dad meant when he told my mom he questions some of my values.

But that’s another post completely.

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Last week, finals week, seemed to go on forever. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I worked 11-hour days all week, and life consisted of three things: sleeping, working and getting ready for work. Or it could have been because we were extremely short-handed all week long. Again. Either way, I wasn’t the only one who felt the week was at least a day longer than it should have been, and I’m certain I’m not the only one who was ecstatic when the clock finally reached quitting time on the last day. I know I drove home with a smile on my face.

Because my work week runs from Sunday to Thursday, and because with the end of finals week comes inter-session break, during which we are only open Monday through Friday, I have myself a three-day weekend.

First on the agenda were Kat and Laurel. We went shopping at Andersons and Laurel took her very first ride as a big girl in a shopping cart. She’s doing very well at sitting up now. Unless of course, she falls asleep. Then she just sort of topples over and snoozes in whatever position she lands in. It’s pretty funny. All day long, I tried to make that child laugh. Babies, for whatever reason, seem to love me, and I generally have no problem coaxing the giggles out of them, if not total belly laughs. But Laurel? She gave me plenty of smiles, for sure. But the real talking and laughing was reserved for the 19-month old boy sitting in a cart behind us in the cashier’s line. That child had the most beautiful brown eyes… if I’d been Laurel, I’m sure I would have flirted as well. It was totally adorable.

I helped feed her sweet potatoes later on. Feeding one is quite different from feeding two. With two, you have just enough time to get the spoon into one’s mouth while his twin is busy savoring the bite you just fed him. It actually runs pretty smoothly, especially if you’re not a patient person. I’m considerably more patient now than I was 22 years ago, which is good because she took her time.

Shortly before I headed home, Kat was getting ready to put Laurel to bed. And that’s when it happened. I got her laughing. Maybe she was slaphappy. I didn’t care. I love that kid and I miss hanging out with her mom. For very selfish reasons, I wish they’d both come home. And that’s all I’m saying on that note, but Kat knows there’s more and she knows what I think, and whatever happens, I’m there for both of them. *blows kisses at both of them*

Earlier this week, I thought I’d try to spend Saturday out at my dad’s. I’m overdue for a visit there and he’s going out of town for the holidays soon, so it seemed like a good opportunity. Except that last night, I learned we had a winter storm warning for today, and since he’s more than 20 miles southwest of here with a few miles of open field country roads in between, I didn’t want to chance it. When I woke up this morning and found they’d bumped the storm warning time up by five hours, I figured I’d made the right choice. But it’s now almost 3 p.m. here and it just started snowing. Then again, there’s no way I would have made it out there before noon anyway, and I never stay just a couple of hours. So, Dad? It looks like I’ll have to catch up with you after Christmas.

JM is in Cincinnati this weekend. JL stayed with a friend last night in order to be closer to work, and will likely do the same tonight. That leaves me and the cats all by ourselves. An extended amount of quiet time for the first time in weeks. I think I can live with that! There’s plenty of food here and a couple of books to read, as well as those logic problem magazines that arrived the other day. I definitely won’t be bored.

As for tomorrow, well… we’ll see what happens.

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Last night, after a not-so-great night at work (I’m not even going there), I came home and went right to bed. And crashed. Until noon today.

That’s why I didn’t notice until I got up to make coffee that my sons had cleaned the entire kitchen yesterday. They even swept the floor.  And washed the cats’ food dishes.

It looks fantastic!

I guess I’ll keep them a little longer. Because, you never know, they might do the living room next!

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This will be a long week. It’s finals week and while all of my coursework and exams are completed, the majority of the students are wrapping up their semester this week. Last night kicked off the first night of keeping the whole building open until 2 a.m. I was actually called in early because an ice storm was coming and the supervisor scheduled to open couldn’t make it in. I could understand not wanting to drive home…. but at noon, the roads were still just wet from rain. So… ? Whatever. It’s the third time in a week she’s called off. I’m not the only one noticing a pattern. And yes, I’m a little shocked I said it here as well, but you know what? It gets old having to cover for the same person consistently. If you don’t like what I’m saying, don’t read my blog. I’m entitled to my opinion here.

Why, yes, I *am* cranky, thanks for noticing. The Boyfriend held his Toys for Tots party on Saturday night. That’s right. He went ahead and did it. His parents went out of town and he invited people over there. I found out it was taking place on Friday night when I received an email from him (he was at work). I didn’t go. I had homework and a final to complete, and I had to work the following day. And he’s been informed that since my involvement mattered so little this time around, he can count on me remaining uninvolved in the future. Again, as his friend Dusty said, it’s The Boyfriend’s party. Obviously, The Boyfriend agrees.

(An apology would make me reconsider, but I’m not counting on one.)

Switching gears… thank goodness the world hasn’t gone completely crazy! Last night, I was up at the circulation desk and I noticed that someone had turned in The Notebook. Since I’ve heard more than one person rave about the movie and I prefer to read books before seeing movies, I checked it out to myself. I’ve now read about 70 pages and all I can is, “Ugh!” I logged into Goodreads and discovered I am not alone. The dialogue in this book is so stupid and forced. Seventy pages in, I think I’m supposed to give a crap about these characters; I’m supposed to believe all of the history that they have, but you know what? I’m not buying it. They were together for one adolescent summer. One of the people who raved about this book said that if you didn’t like the book, you’ve never been loved. Um… no. If you don’t like the book, it’s because you recognize bad writing. I’m not saying I can do better, but hey - I’m also not writing books and asking people to buy them.

I’ve heard the movie is better, though. Can anyone who’s read the book vouch for that? Because the movie is currently on my Netflix list, but if it’s anything like this book (which is going back to the library today), I don’t want to waste my time with that either.

I will end this post on two positive notes. First, geek that I am (shut up TOTO), I am tickled pink with the arrival of not one, not two, but EIGHT magazines containing logic problems in today’s mail. TOTO can roll her eyes all she wants, but in another forty years, we’ll see which one of us has still retained all of our mental faculties.

Second, today I was able to have my customary second cup of coffee, unlike yesterday when I had to venture off in the cold rain without it. And folks, sometimes that just makes all the difference in how a day is going to proceed.

The end. For now.

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I would put up the Christmas tree if I could find the living room….

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What little sleep I had on Monday night was fitful and full of dreams about Linda.

This seems strange, to me and probably to everyone else. Of the people at work, she was certainly closer to others than me. She came to my house once for the first Toys for Tots that we had after I started working at the library. Somewhere, I have a photograph of the two of us sitting next to each other in my living room.

And there was one single time that we went out to lunch together, along with Princess and e-Best. We had Chinese and I remember it because Princess drove and we all laughed when she spontaneously cursed at someone else on the road. Because that’s just not like Princess.

But other than that, and the employee functions that took place during work, most of the time I spent talking to Linda was just in passing. I’d see her in the mail room, or she’d stop for a moment on her way into the Dean’s office.

That’s why it seems unusual to me that I would be so strongly affected by what’s happened to her. I’ve been told that she’s not going to make it; that it’s only a matter of time and that they’re waiting for family to have time to say their goodbyes. And this rattles me. My only experiences with death have been those that were expected; with weeks or months to say the things that need to be said. But I just saw Linda last week. None of this makes sense to me.

Monday night, in the midst of my dreams, I sat up in bed, wide awake with the realization that the journal I’ve been writing in, the hardback book that I just found again after months of it missing, was given to me by Linda. It was an out-of-the-blue and unexpected gift. I don’t recall ever telling her that I write. And with the exception of one other hardback book, most of my journals are written in spiral notebooks that I buy at the dollar store. It’s not that I don’t like the hardback books; it’s that I feel the content should have more significance than most of the stuff I jot down.

But that other hardback book? It was also a complete surprise. It was several months after my husband died, when there was a knock at my door one evening. On my front porch was Kristy, one of his hospice nurses and the one who came the day Mike passed. She had in her hands that other hardback journal.

Am I crazy to think that there’s something more at work here? Some connection?

I am a skeptic who isn’t quite sure about the afterlife, with an utter disdain for anything resembling organized religion. I am generally the first person to rationalize things that seem a little weird. But I’m having a really tough time wrapping logic around this whole thing. And I’m starting to think that maybe I’m not supposed to be rationalizing it. Maybe I’m just supposed to have… dare I say it? Faith.

After all, I can’t rationalize what’s happened to Linda. I can’t explain why, given the casual nature of our acquaintance, I have the sound of her voice stuck in my ears. All I really know is that I don’t want to forget how she sounds, because I’m starting to think she’s trying to tell me something.

There are people that I work with who will read this and probably think I’m crazy. (Then again, they already do.) For some reason, I’m ok with that. I’m not ok with what’s happened to Linda, or with the pain her family and friends are feeling. But I have this distinct feeling that Linda herself is ok. And that feeling brings a bit of peace. I hope those close to her are able to feel the same soon.

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