:::Bastards!:::

:::2009 Word Review:::

My word for 2009 was 'Work'. I'm pleased, proud, p...happy, with all the progress that I made and the things that I learned along the way. The number one lesson that I learned was this -- 'Life is managed, not cured.' That's from Dr. Phil, folks. Yes.

At times I thought that if I finished everything that I had to do then I, well, wouldn't have anything left to do. Not true. There is always something to do, on any and all levels of living. Cleaning, bill paying, work, family, friends, church, life planning, and on and on. Trying to 'cure' things drove me nuts until I realized that having things to do is the nature of life. It teaches us how to be responsible beings, and prepares us for the roles and obligations we will take on in this life and the life to come.

I win.

:::$39.99, Are You Out of Your Mind?:::

{If you have parents from the South, no doubt you were guilted into eating some of these today}

This morning at breakfast, Shorty and I realized that we both missed the clock striking twelve last night. I was busy trying to figure out how to defragment my laptop, and she was online furiously spending the rest of her FSA money. Ha.

I went out to Marshall's today in Pentagon City to do some, ahem, Christmas shopping. I just love these types of stores. I spent a good little while finding little gifts for some of the people at the house, etc., and just perusing the shelves.

I noticed that they had a lot of monogrammed items out. Too bad 'R' doesn't make a good monogram. It's too unbalanced, I think, and made of too many little pieces.



The pillow aisle is always like a cave. I spent some time snuggling with the silkiest pillow in all creation, but I put it back because it was $39.00!!! That's a little steep for a Marshall's pillow, friends.


After spending some time in Border's looking for a Christian romance novel (don't ask), I staggered home be-headached and be-hungered. I decided to treat myself to a New Year's Day pizza feast (I like giving mundane things special names), and now I'm putzing around and watching Murder, She Wrote on Netflix.


I feel like tomorrow should be Sunday, so I'm very excited to have an extra free-for-all weekend day!

:::New Year's PSA, The Partners Smile On Us:::

If you're like me, you get a little annoyed about the puffed up nature of New Year's Eve. Don't feel like waxing poetic about auld lang syne? Neither do I. I've had many a depressing New Year's because I felt like I was the only one who's life hadn't come together within the neat confines of the past 12 months. Let me tell you something -- The Lord cares not a hoot about the Gregorian calendar.

Don't get me wrong, I believe in resolutions and celebrating life, it's just the New Year's overkill that needles me. You don't have to have any startling revelations about life tonight. You don't have to be a new person tomorrow. It's okay. It's o-bee-kay-bee.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

This morning we woke up to the after effects of some freezing rain. When I was little we sang this song at school about Jack Frost skating all over the world and leaving tracks of ice behind him. Judging by the haphazard frosting of ice everywhere, it really did look like Jack Frost had been skating around the Hill last night.





There is a line of topiary bushes in raised planters outside of the Thurgood Marshall building on the way to Union Station. Every time I pass them I stick out my hand and brush the leaves as I pass by. Today the leaves were thick with ice, and as I brushed them they knocked together like heavy crystals on a chandelier.


So, there is absolutely no one in town the week after Christmas. No one. It's like a Washington tradition. Today there were only seven attorneys in the office and 14 staff members. Usually on the eve of a holiday they let us go at 2 pm, but since there was no one in the office, the gods (i.e., the partners) let us go at noon! Hot damn!


I was out. of. there. before the bells tolled 12. You have to escape before they change their minds, or before someone snags you for some last minute help. Yes, yes, I'm flying up the career ladder.

So, I had to buy some envelopes from the post office in Union Station, so I stopped by Johnny Rockets for lunch. Ha! Hello, early 90's! There was a stretch of time in my youth when Johnny Rockets was the coo-el place to go. The food isn't awesome, but I was in the mood for some nostalgia. I remember being obsessed with these tabletop jukeboxes when I was little.


Would you believe that there are at least 3 Johnny Rockets in the DC metro area? I don't understand the fascination. Truth be told, I do stop by once in a blue moon for a chocolate malt shake. Holla!


I'm off to sit under a bhodi tree to reach enlightement before midnight. Om...

:::I Succeed, and I Fail:::

There are some DC living battles that I just can't win -- the 10% tax on takeout and restaurant food, the new 5 cent tax on plastic bags at grocery stores*, the exorbitant amount of my money that the city spends on running ineffective and ill-aimed social programs -- but there are some battles that I can win, like finding an easier way to buy the things I need (without being taxed 5 cents per bag sohelpmeyoufascists).

I have long been a fan of online shopping, especially when I can get free shipping. My hope is that someday Amazon will sell everything that I buy online, and that all of these items will qualify for free Super Saver shipping. Ah...Utopia.

After an arm-breaking trip to the Target in Columbia Heights this summer, I hopped online to see if Amazon sold a product that we all need at regular intervals. This product is heavy and bulky, and absolutely necessary. I can buy a smaller size of this product at the corner store two blocks away, but in that scenario it costs just as much as the full-size version that I could buy at a regular store.

Well, it turns out that Amazon does sell this product, but in bulk. At the time I didn't think it was practical to buy so much of this product, but after growing tired of paying way too much for way too little of it, a few weeks ago I went ahead and placed my order. Any guesses what it is?


I was so happy when the box arrived. No more treks out to Target. No more high prices and little volume at the corner store. Victory!

Ok, enough with the teases...


Yep, I bought four big ole bottles of Tide online. Best 50$+ I've spent all year. I was so excited to take care of the nagging, reoccurring problem of stocking laundry detergent. I was so excited that I didn't have to carry anymore heavy, cumbersome bottles of detergent home. I was so excited that Amazon stocked Tide Free, since regular Tide has started irritating my skin.


I was so excited that I hoisted one of my bright, new bottles of beautiful Tide detergent into the air to celebrate my victory, only to find that...


I bought the wrong kind of Tide. Well, the right kind -- Tide Free -- and the wrong kind. Do you think that my 100 year old house has high efficiency, front-loading washing machines? No, and no. Oh-to-the-well, anything is better than just plain hot water.


*Yeah, I know I can get around this by bringing my own bags to the store, but it kills me that DC government is once again taking more money from its citizens and still doing a horrible job of running this town. The more money they take, the crappier job they do. How does that work?

:::A Full Tithe:::

The goal for 2010 -- remember to pay every other week so I don't have to play catch-up on the last Sunday of the year.

Dork.

:::if i had my druthers:::

{This is a post that I wrote back on February 19th of this year after I had experienced one of those days at the office (I was still lower-casing at the time, so ignore just ignore it). I've had this post on the back burner since then, hemming and hawing about whether or not I should ever publish it, but I finally feel comfortable opening up and letting this out. I don't like to post much about being single -- it is what it is. I have a good life, I have a hard life, just like everyone else. }


i had a conversation with a friend today, the kind that you wish you could play back time and time again at the most opportune moments. our conversation made me think. my story starts out like this --

the power went out up and down our block this afternoon, and as soon as the initial excitement wore off people drifted away to various corners of the office to chat and wait things out. after wandering around, i found a friend of mine sitting in the office of an absent attorney taking advantage of the yellow sunlight and reading coursework for her master's program. she works full time, attends school at night, and goes home to a roommate.

i sought her out to talk about recent upheavals in our office that had blindsided more than a few of us. times like these -- these periods of work-related dramas -- always bring the reality of my singular situation to the forefront of my mind. this reality is that i am, despite my greatest wishes, devoting the majority of my life to this office, which is a place of no eternal significance. my worth is a resume and a work history, a skill set and some very feigned ambitions. i am an honest worker. i put forth great efforts. i strive, i adapt, i learn, i build, i contribute, but, truth be told, i could care less. how much less depends on the day.

i know the woman in my soul, and that woman is a wife and a mother. but, for some reason that extends beyond this mortal coil, i have been called to labor in this other vineyard. it is here that i sow and reap, but if i had my druthers, i'd be devoting my backbreaking work to my own patch of land. i know i've been commanded to appreciate the time i spend in this vineyard, and love the bounty of this harvest, and i can handle this on almost any given day...but on Sundays when the husbands sit with wives, on every holiday that i spend as an addendum, in temples where families are the key...i can feel empty, and i can almost feel invisible.

and then i can feel sad and lonely, defeated and unworthy because there won't be any rose-colored memoirs written about the hard lessons i learned as i stumbled blindly down this road not taken, this road that can be vastly different than the one traveled by women who were called to fill the measure of their creation right here, right now, while the rest of us wait, and wait some more, and pray and pray our way through alternative realities. i don't want to do this, i never wanted to do this. if you have any grand illusions about the single life, please, abandon them now.

anyhow, it made me think.