What did happen in 2008

Oh, and I painted!

Well, I've been thinking about this all day, about what I would write and what I might list as the positive events or accomplishments of my own personal 2008.  And let me tell you, this will be an exercise in counting my blessings because all-in-all 2008 has not been one of my better years.  

Here goes, ten things that DID happen this year:

1. It got easier, just like everyone said it would.

2. Maggie stopped wearing diapers just in time for the economic crisis (that's about $100 a month).

3.  We raised $10,000 for Barack Obama and then he won.

4. The Mister and I had our very first weekend away without the kiddies (we went to Santa Barbara).

5. I rearranged my living room and it looks much better. See?

6.  I published a short story about about an earthquake. 

7. I joined Facebook, started blogging, discovered Etsy, had my first IM conversation , and figured out how to do a video chat with my in-laws. I am Samantha 2.0.

8. I bought my first pair of truly expensive jeans and came to understand why they were worth it.

9. I traveled to Mexico, Delaware, Oklahoma, Petaluma, Calistoga, Yountville, Santa Barbara, and Carmel.

10. I kept my offspring alive and mostly happy and seem to have imparted to them the importance of getting funky, real funky, on the dance floor. 

So that's it–it's not a Nobel Prize or even a book contract.  But in my defense I am coming off a couple of real stellar years.  And at least it's not a van down by the river.

New daily feature alert:

A thing I like

This amazingly funny, deadpan, smart novel about fictional Grouse County, Iowa in the '80s by a guy I've never heard of.  Read it.  It's great.  The End of Vandalism by Tom Drury.

What didn't happen in 2008

The end of the year is coming and so my mind turns to lists and accomplishments and—alas, it is hard being me—failures.  

Ten things that didn't happen this year:

1. My anthology proposal failed to "inspire the proper enthusiasm" with my new agent.

2. I did not get a job blogging.

3. I did not win the Narrative Magazine First-Person contest.

4. I did not get tickets to Obama's inauguration.

5. The New York Times' Modern Love section did not publish my essay about hating my dog.

6. I did not plant a veggie garden.

7. I did not finish papering my hallway doors.

8. I did not discover my god-given talent for performance story telling.

9. I did not achieve the proper "body after baby" according to People Magazine

10. I did not always remember my pledge to reach out with kindness to everyone I know.

But stay tuned, because tomorrow's list is Ten Things That Did Happen This Year.  

Plus, there's still time: 22 days to be exact.  That's 31,680 minutes of potential.

I'm thinking of becoming a stage mother

Music Education
The twins had never seen a piano before we got to grandma's, which I realize is sort of sad (although they have seen giant calypso bands on flatbeds and plenty of hippie drumming circles in Golden Gate Park, so they're not totally deprived.)   Luckily, they are musical geniuses, as you can see from their precocious and impressive rock star faces.  

Oklahoma, where the wind comes rushing down the plains

Well, we're in Oklahoma City after two plane rides, a long layover in Dallas, a hideous meal at T.G.I. Fridays in the Dallas/Forth Worth airport (if you are ever there, please just do me the favor of not stooping to eat at TGIFs.  Even the beer won't help.  Really, McDonald's would be better. Licking an old Cinnabon carton you found in the trash would be better.)

But here was one of the high points:

Oliver (having mastered the air vent above the seat): This feels good.

The Mister: You like the wind on your face?

Oliver: Yeah, 'cause makes me feel important.

Our first view of OKC: two huge crosses created 

from windows lit on big, downtown buildings. 

Famous Oklahomans include 

Garth Brooks and Sam Walton

A mostly handmade Christmas (with one Barbie)

I sort of made a vow to myself not to do anymore shopping-inspired posts (there are enough other people doing a better, more consistent job of it—check out Bliss—and it's just not really my thing) but I went a little crazy on Etsy today and instead of making me feel all dirty and rotten like most shopping does (think weirdo, subversive secret trips to Target), this made me feel clean and smart and well made.  So much so that I've decided to try to have a completely handmade Christmas (when I am not buying books, which, as everyone knows, are the best gifts of all). 

Here are just a few of my finds today:

These baby leg warmers

This felt play food

These strawberry booties

Next I am going to make a Six-Word Memoir t-shirt with Smith Magazine and Spreadshirt.  I think it's going to say "I started blogging this year too." Not exactly handmade, but cool just the same.

P.S. In the interest of full disclosure I have to admit that I had already made a few non-book, non-handmade purchases before my vow.  If I could undo that "Baby Doctor Barbie" and those Matchbox cars, I would.  Believe me.

Thankful for everything, really

Save your fork, there's pie!

So, I totally get why ladies of a certain type like to go away to spas and other quiet places where fluffy towels are provided and the only noise is the soothing tinkling of new age music. 

We have had a truly lovely Thanksgiving weekend.  The Mister was off for three days—a treat—and we had all these incredibly fun, warm, shiny people over to our house for turkey and all the fixings (meat-eaters, try this stuffing). On Saturday we even got all picturesque and trekked out to a tree farm in the mountains above Santa Cruz to cut down a Christmas tree. We picnicked in an old apple orchard and drank wine out of plastic tumblers and the kids picked pears and ate them off the tree. Really, it was just so...nice. Nice in a way I always hoped my life would be.

The Mister with our fresh kill

But here's the thing.  It's Sunday evening, the sun is down, and all that's left is the dealing part: making dinner and cleaning it up, bath time, packing lunches for the twins' first day of daycare tomorrow, putting all those damn lights on the tree, folding laundry, and well, I just now realized that that  I haven't been alone for a minute in a long, long time.  My children even accompany me into the bathroom (this is potty training, not a lack of boundaries).  

And then today at the playground where the twins screeched for me to push them higher, higher, higher and Woody dropped his ooey, gooey ball at my feet, demanding that I throw it again and again and again and I looked down and realized I had worn my darn clogs to the playground again, the ones that fill instantly with sand and make it all but impossible to walk, I just had this crazy vision of some silent pool in some cuckoo place like Sedona and even though I am so, so thankful, truly thankful, for my sweet life, I just wanted to go to that quiet pool and immerse myself in all that warm, quiet water and be alone.

 

Instead I went to Wallgreens to buy Christmas lights and gum and low fat Triscuits. Which, if you look at it from certain angles, is its own kind of blessing.

Maggie & Ollie like dessert best

What do Mark Fiore and Feist have in common?

Just a quickie 'cause I am tired as all get out today. Damn kids. 

I got to use my best announcer voice for Mark Fiore's most recent political animation (don't call it a cartoon).  It's the one about the Big Three Automakers from 11/19.  He's funny.

Also, I recently learned that The Mister has a rock star crush on Feist because of this 1, 2, 3 4, video.  Had I known he had a thing for sparkly unitards and awkward, white-girl dancing I would have tried both a long time ago.  But I think I sort of missed my window.