Resolve

Well Happy New Year, everyone. Especially to those four unfortunate folks whose new years were ushered in via the hot pot that never boiled. Why? Because the combined force of mine and Phillip's stupidity ensured that we left the second pot in the hot pot, the extra bowl, the one that completely prevented the other one from ever ever boiling. Also, I have not seen an electric appliance dim the lights so much since my stint in the godforsaken Azores.

Which isn't to say we didn't eat. Eventually Phillip dumped the contents of the hot pot into a big pasta pot and boiled it on the stove. Nothing becomes between a man and his razor-thin slices of beef.

And another year arrived without a kiss for me. We were up in Phillip's office on the 27th floor, keeping an eye on the Space Needle for signs of fireworks. Phillip went down the hall to see if we could get a better view- and didn't come back. And the fireworks started. So there I am trying very hard to concentrate on the pretty fireworks so as best to ignore the two friends totally making out next to me. And Phillip saunters in all "They started already!" as if they might have shot off the fireworks early, like, before midnight, and followed this up with, "I was in the bathroom!" Yes, Internet. My husband was in the bathroom. So began another kissless year.

Not much has happened, unless you count the Universe's impressive display of hostile indifference while a monster tsunami washed away entire villages. I posted some aid relief links yesterday, then I took them down. No one comes here to find out where to send money. And unless you are Sandra Bullock, the most you can hope for is that your couple of bucks turns into some diapers or a bottle of water. On Sunday my priest gave a tidy sermon about the whereabouts of God when such things occur. As a rather fervent believer in the always everywhereness of God, I was a touch more bitter and sat in the pew composing an angry letter beginning with, "I thought you promised not to do that anymore!"

Well. It tends to make the every day crap in your own life look puny in comparison, doesn't it? My hot pot didn't boil. My heaters aren't working. I've had to scrape ice off my car every morning. Wah.

Which isn't to say I'm going to stop whining about those things now. I most certainly will. I'll just try and have a certain amount of perspective.

Biggest hopes for the new year? That the day will start getting a little longer (that's pretty much a given, eh?) and that my new year resolution sticks long enough to make a difference. And gah, I hate to be so trite, but I've joined the legions of folks hoping to be a few pounds lighter at this time next year. Seriously, I am way bummed about how common this resolution is. What about resolving to finally embrace my generation and get a cool piercing? Or resolving to learn something useful, like HTML and CSS so this site doesn't scare people off with the pink frilliness? I could finally learn to swim (I know) or learn to love those scary Chinese meatballs Phillip adores so. But no. After a miserable discussion about how we felt entirely too bovine to try on bridesmaid dresses, a friend of mine completely blindsided me into losing weight before the wedding. Which is this summer. Which means I have to, like, lose actual weight. So every day now this sadistic friend (armed with a pedometer and Cooking Light) sends me an email that states "Steps: Fifty Bajillion. Sweets: None. Even when faced with entire walls made of ice cream cartons." And I'm sending her emails that read "Steps: Um, a few. And I tried that Pilates tape until the phone rang and it was my sister and she was depressed and needed ice cream, like, urgently, and I HAD to help her out. Sweets: None. Except for the ice cream. Which was an obligation. Honest." (Okay, my sister is totally not depressed or in need of ice cream and also happens to be twee and tiny, but I needed an excuse. I'm sure you understand.)

And now the Internet knows, which means expectations. Wah. So here you go, Internet: I have not eaten anything sweet in FIVE DAYS. Five. Entire. Days. I think that is the longest I have gone without sugar in my whole life and I am so not kidding. I grew up believing that Bread, Chocolate, Coffee and Wine were the four main food groups and having to change this inherent part of my thinking is turning my poor little world upside down. The exquisitely wrapped European chocolates my mother sent me for Christmas were hanging out on the coffee table last night and speaking to me.

Anyway. Like I said. Not much to complain about.