the pieces of my life

I suppose it’s time for a year-end wrap-up. That’s what you’re supposed to do on December 31, isn’t it? 2001 feels like it’s been a wild year, and I’m not talking about what’s going on in the world at large. In some ways, it feels as if I took my life, turned it upside down and shook. Not a lot of change fell out of the pockets, but things certainly didn’t end up where I would have expected them to end up. There’s the work front. An overnight promotion that had me managing a team of six (the Tweedle Twirp’s words will forever stay with me: “Remember there’s a difference between being a boss and being bossy”). Four managers in one year. A constant trickle of people I enjoy working with leaving the company. A decision to take a complete change of direction in my job. There’s my personal life. Me getting married. What a concept. There’s my writing. Lots of rejection letters. But lots of personal rejection letters, which in some ways is almost more frustrating (I’m tired of “your piece made it into the final round, but…”). Wrote a novel. I’ve gotten more fit over the year, running both a triathlon and a half-marathon. Things are great, but nowhere where I thought I’d be at 33.

I’m a little anxious about the upcoming year. New job. The wedding. The disappointment if Adam doesn’t get into grad school. The stress of selling the house, finding a new one, getting a new job if he does. This will be an unsettling year. I guess I’m ready for it. I mean, I don’t really have a choice, do I?

Ah, Christmas dinner the way the Christians do it. Tracy and Lloyd had us over to dinner tonight and it was fabulous, although I’m definitely waddling now. Adam and I meant to catch a flick earlier, although we got caught up in stuff (read: Adam’s b-school essays), so we never made it out.

You know, every Hannukah, on the radio the d.j.s say, “And a Happy Hannukah to our Jewish listeners.” How come they don’t say now, “And a Merry Christmas to our Christian listeners.” I’m feeling slightly bah-humbug as people just don’t want to let it rest. At the grocery store yesterday, I was quizzed by the checkout person, who I know was only trying to be nice. “Are you all ready for the holiday?” she asked. And as always, I just played along until she started digging deeper. “All your presents wrapped? Tree all set?” I finally told her I didn’t celebrate Christmas and the bag boy looked at me like I was from Mars. “Chanukah is over, so my presents are not only wrapped, they’re unwrapped and even exchanged in a couple of instances” (Adam exchanged his green sweater for a gray one.) She kept pressing, “So it’s completely done? There’s nothing left?” It’s women like her that make me want to slap people upside the head and say, “The baby Jesus was a fucking Jew, for God’s sake!” But I resisted, and just smiled.

I’m still waiting for my squat. Adam’s got another three hours and 24 minutes to squat. Why does he have to squat, you might ask? Because we woke up this morning, and I exclaimed, “It’s my half birthday! What did you get me?” and he said, “I got you squat.” So I’ve been waiting all day for him to squat, but so far, I’ve gotten squat on the squat. Some half birthday this has been!

I ate too much. Did I mention that? I ate way, way too much. But it was sooooo good.

The two faces of Christmas:

1) While running at Greenlake this morning, a man was dressed in a full Santa suit with his son/grandson, and they were handing out candy canes to everyone who walked past them.

2) A group of people have been standing on a bridge over 15th Ave NW, waving to drivers as they display their gigantic banner, which reads, “Holiday is MURDER on turkeys!”