Sunday, December 17, 2006

525,600 Minutes

Most people would not do their end of the year blog until, well, the end of the year, but I guess I am not most people. That, coupled with my recent tendency to only update the blog every midnight blue moon, and the fact that I'm listening to Auld Lang Syne right now (a song which always makes me get in one of those moods), I am blogging one of those dreaded holiday letters.

Oh, shut up.

Dear Everybody:

It's been quite a year. I started 2006 as a resident of Virginia. I talked my husband into applying for the HGTV show "Curb Appeal", and we were accepted. Exciting, until we looked at our patch of front lawn and realized we didn't want to spend thousands of dollars on it. So we did the equally crazy thing: put our newly renovated kitchen (and the rest of the house with it) up for sale.

Who would have known that we'd end up here: our house in Annapolis, Maryland, the Christmas tree twinkling behind me, my car parked in an actual garage (if there was ever an official list of things which make you feel like your parents, garage ownership would rank pretty high).

It's been quite a year.

My son grew another inch, standing as of today at six feet, one inch. He turned fifteen, and entered tenth grade. The next time December 16th rolls around, he will have been driving for five months. Provided he can parallel park during the exam, unlike his mother.

I traveled to Ireland for the first time. Dublin was not as green as I had envisioned, but it was as magical.

My husband changed jobs, was laid off, and found another one. He returned to school to pursue a Master's degree in Accounting, apparently because he does not like his free time very much. He wants to sit for the CPA exam. I suspect I should look into that thing about my taxes a few years ago.

We spent a week at the beach with friends and family. You really get close to people when you split a washer and dryer between ten people for seven days. :)

My husband turned thirty-nine. This is his last year before the big one. He celebrated twenty one years in America by becoming a citizen. He has lived here longer than he lived in England, yet he still calls a flashlight a 'torch' and piles peas on top of his fish.

We conceived a baby. And then lost it.

My mother suffered a stroke, out of the blue, apparently caused by stress. We are still not sure if she'll be up to hosting Christmas dinner. She is still not sure if she trusts one of us to take it over. But she's otherwise feeling good.

I had my thirty-sixth birthday. Quite an interesting day, considering most days, I still feel like I'm eight years old, and have the mismatched socks to prove it.

My mother and father in law packed up and moved to San Diego and we developed an immediate fondness for spending large quantities of time with them. Hey - they routinely get highs in the seventies during San Diego winters.

I fell in love with my husband nineteen times over. He admits to having maintained a bit of a crush on me.

The dog got fiestier (thanks for that description, Dr. C). And cuter.

Yes, it's been quite a year. In 2007, my son will become a high school junior. We'll build a deck, and invite friends over to barbecue. We'll continue our journey to becoming parents again. I might cut my hair.

My son will be sixteen.

My husband will be forty years old.

And deep down inside - I'll still be that girl from New Jersey, with the plastic jelly shoes, feeling every bit of eight years old.

Happy New Year.

1 comment:

Alison said...

Great letter, Dawn. I love how you write! :)