The food was good (very good), we all gave each other warm things to wear, and it was enjoyable even though it was a balmy 51 degrees. But there’s nothing like v v thoughtful regifting to make a girl’s Winter Solstice complete. In 1997, the year before Lilly was born, the three of us went to Ireland with Jim’s family for 9 days: On one of our day trips we went to a little shack on a cliff overlooking the sea and found a guy making beautiful crystal things - goblets, vases, jewelry. He worked alone, having left Waterford years before; he was a quiet guy who set up shop in a place where little English was spoken. I really dug his work and figured I’d come back someday, another year (decade?) and buy something. Later that evening Jim presented me with a little box, and inside was a crystal charm on a silver chain. I’d lingered over it while we were at Rinne, and somehow Jim and his mother had orchestrated some Cody-related faux crisis to get me out of the building so he could buy it for me. It was the first piece of real jewelry he’d given me since we’d started dating about two years previous, so in addition to being gorgeous, it was also a signal of sorts, and it was another glimpse into Jim’s very giving nature. For several years I wore it and wore it and wore it, but one day it fell off the chain; the delicate piece holding the charm onto the chain had disappeared. I reluctantly put the piece away in its box - there was no money, none whatsoever, for a trip to a jeweler for repair - and wore other things around my neck. Occasionally I’d get the box out and look at the crystal and think, I really need to get this fixed, but never got around to it. So, ten years after giving me the crystal, Jim got around to it, complete with presenting me with the original box: I married a good, good man. ****** The wind here today is vicious. I’m sad that some necessary weatherproofing didn’t get done, but them’s the breaks when your seasons don’t behave the way they’re supposed to. Winter’s late arrival this year inspired prodigious laziness in us - the garden is an embarrassing mess and I wish the snow hadn’t melted because it covered my negligence so nicely, and few of our windows got their yearly dressing of extremely fug plastic - but I figure we’ll get some sort of reprieve in January and we can at least remedy the windows. The garden can wait. Oh, I haven’t mentioned this - our last chicken, Emma Goldman, went back to her original home last weekend. Her previous owners needed her coop back to house some ducks, so we decided to let Emma go live out her remaining… months? with them. She’s happy as can be, but we’re without fowl for the first time in almost 3 years. It was a wonderful experiment. So long, Emma, and thanks for all the eggs: Happy holidays, everyone!

I’m trying to get back into blogging without it being so… bloggy. You know what I mean? I know, I know. I’ve said that how many times since, well, my first and favorite old blog (Madame Insane, for those who’ve been around for a long time) bit the dust in, what, late 2004? Seriously, though - recently I’ve had several thought-provoking IM chats (I know - what are the odds?) with a couple brainy, inspiring broads (plus Amanda!). I’ve received old-fashioned US Mail from some seriously interesting women who make me feel all kinds of feelings - mostly the kind of feelings you feel when you hear from someone who’s known you best over distance and time. They’ve all reminded me that I write - even though I haven’t written well for awhile - without being overbearing or pushy in any way. I mean, even my mother doesn’t act like my mother any more - I should probably lose the chip on my shoulder, eh? I also went back to the saved archives I have from Madame Insane and I realized how much I’ve changed since that one launched in 2002. Clearly, writing on a regular basis at a “place” whose design I loved was good for me; the blogs that followed (MizUntitled and this one) never felt (or feel) right to me and weren’t (or aren’t) posted to nearly as often. Maybe it’s the Wordpress interface. Maybe it’s my total lack of design skills and color sense. Should either of those things matter? No. Neither should the pens I prefer to write with when at work or writing analog-style in my journal. But they do, they matter. Even though they’re distractions from matters at hand, they do matter. I turned 39 a few weeks ago and find myself at many, many crossroads - mental, physical, personal, professional… … and I feel that it’s time to incorporate some new keywords into the ol’ existence. Like discernment and focus and truth and momentum and breath and forgiveness. And principles - principles like count to ten before jumping all over The Teenager ™ and old habits die hard, but often it’s best to let them die and what you put out there comes back to you threefold and if it’s not working, do something else and less is more and fresh is best and maintenance, maintenance, maintenance. I’m coming off a month of terribly stressful work and other stuff, and while sitting around eating Halloween candy and opening the mental front door to give Despair the time of day is kind of appealing, I know it’s a recipe for disaster. Ergo, NO SOLICITORS. ****** In other news, Lilly turned 9 yesterday. She’s my youngest child - my baby - and she is a spectacular human being: Also, three years ago yesterday - on Election Day, no less - I put down the cigarettes for good. While I know it’s for my health and what about the children? and it’s a nasty, gross, and goddamn expensive habit were all rationales for quitting, here’s what pushed me over: Big Tobacco wants me to consume their products, possibly forcing me to use its buddy, Big Pharma, to stay alive someday. Pretty good racket, eh? No, thanks. Sally forth and conquer.

I recently decided that re-commitment to eating well (in my case, that means bringing my lunch to work every day and avoiding processed food and making more of an effort to cook dinner after work [which recently has fallen to Jim, which is a good thing, except that his repertoire is a bit limited]) and exercising every day are going to be the main way to manage my creaky & cranky frame.The apparatus above is what’s called a fluid trainer - it’s a fancy version of a bike mount. I decided I don’t want to join a gym and I don’t want to exercise outdoors in winter, so a fluid trainer and Pilates DVDs it is. Right? OK. I can do this. Sure, it’s been months and months since I’ve done anything remotely resembling “regular exercise”, but I’m still in what could be called “reasonable” shape. Right? Ed and Jim set it up last night, so when they were done and I was safely alone, I set the iTunes to the Stooges and hopped on. People, that thing kicked my ass! I rode for 26 minutes and broke a sweat in the chilly B-K basement (aka The Garden Apartment) and when I (gracelessly) alighted from the bike, my legs felt like they each weighed several hundred pounds. I have a ways to go. It’s the start of a beautiful relationship, I reckon.