uh--mm. Happy New Year!

Okay, so it's not quite New Year's here in the central time zone, but by the time I finish this post, it will be.

Happy New Year!! A time for resolution, reflection, hopefully new promise (or at least renewed promise) and a whole new refresh.

Of course, this is only so far as the pop culture has counted it--a new beginning, so-to-speak--because our Julian calendar flips forward one more number and the way in which we count and measure life starts over at 1. We don't have to get too contemplative about history and the debate over having learned from the past or not as humanity has shown its repetitive errors over centuries of sin and abuse, but we also know that there is relief and hope (hope being the essential key word) in flipping the page, recounting at 1, and starting over. Even if it is only by human measure.

I am also a little bit buzzed and if it seems like my little account, my little New Year's eve ramble, is a little windbaggish and over-exherted, well it probably is. I've had about ten glasses of wine and enough nachos to feed a small family in a third world country. I stand by what I've said, though, and tend to find the inhibitions with which I usually approach writing are pleasantly thrown out the window with a little bit of wine (or BEER!)

Happy New Year!

T-minus-36 hours...

Mom's coming in tomorrow. I'll need to remember to get that coat from Darlene before I go and grab the ones here. Need to get Kath's phone number and make sure I have a map and a shovel (you know, just in case there are stupid kids trying to pass me on the winter roads again) for bailing tires out of snow. I have learned that I love winter driving, but even the best driver is up sh** creek if they're not prepared.

There are outstanding bills, gift-shopping still to be done, money to come in and I'm just trying to ride the tide. It's tight and I've little room to complain as I quit a good-paying job and moved to a lesser-paying job to keep my sanity (and protect the well-being and ears of my family), but K and I are feeling the pinch. I'm not panicked by any means, unlike years in the past, though, which is good; and I think all the years of living each day as your last has come into balance with wiser thinking, financial sensibility. (NOT saying money is important, just knowing how to manage it.) It's one thing to learn the important, powerful life lesson of realizing life is precious, but it's completely another to learn it at an immature age and taking it to the extreme--either by neglecting finances or by allowing emotion to override everything.

I have to work today and I am also stepping in this afternoon to rehearse with the elementary kids for their concert as the other accompanist double-booked himself and pawned the non-paying, adult-less gig this way. I want to get chicken in the crock pot for K and the girls so they don't have to worry about fixing supper. Get the last bit of laundry done, get cleaned up, get the blanket and seat covers out to the car. K just called and we're going to lunch. It's busy, but everything is coming together and thank God (I mean truly, really) I have such a great family, supportive husband, and one that can do all that domestic stuff so that I can leave Friday feeling assured it will get done. K is amazing. Baby, YOU'RE amazing! =)

Over and out.

Carson Daly, toolbag extraordinaire

I dunno. I guess he was cool when I was younger. To "those" guys. The ones in school who swaggered around in their brand-name jeans, pop-cultured hair, video vocabulary, staggering attitude of something. Ya you know those ones. The ones that could only talk about their weekend escapades in the middle of third slot Econ class and their MTV-ish douchebaggery. All souls seemingly lacking in substance and not only ignorant of those around them but annoying the ever-lovin' piss out of those around them. So... empty!

I dunno. I guess I'm tired. Well shyeah, duh! Been running nonstop between new job and all my accompaniment gigs and getting to bed late all the while. I tell ya, I am getting sick of... dare I say it... dare I set the ill side of karma upon me and say... piano-ing!!

Lucky for me, my wonderful husband has been an integral, vital, crucial help in all things domestic, allowing the potential levels of stress to stay sane and for me, sans drama, as I keep hoofing it the rest of this week through one more accompaniment moment (yes, less than a 'gig'--far less) and one more shift of work before going to meet my mother at the airport for the first time ever since living in Canada. What's that, honey? You want me to help around the house? Are you crazy? I mean, are you FRICKIN' KIDDING me? I don't DO housework. I mean. Thank you.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for doing all the things I've been putting off because I've been too busy to do or have had issues with or have started to have issues with or just want to pitch a claw hammer through or neglected or misunderstood. Thank you for washing your own underwear and doing the dishes and making the bed and realizing that the kids feeding themselves candy and granola bars and chocolate chip cookies with chocolate sauce and sprinkles on top means that my turn to fix supper really is your turn. I really appreciate that. My full head of hair thanks you. Facebooking task forces thank you.

New Job, coffee row

So I had to laugh today. Well I've had to laugh several days in a row. I started a new job last week waitressing at a local family restaurant.

I`ve never waitressed before.

Nothing has stood out so far in marked absurdities and I feel pretty confident in how I`ve adjusted to the new line of work (I love working with people, I`m a hard worker, and I learn fast), but so many characters have come through and I have undoubtedly been graced with a selection that could very well be labeled the "tip of the iceberg." I.e. mild.

But they`re just so funny. Some of them. And so many gums flapping! Not a surprise, just funny. Just when you think you`ve gotten it all in your head that news flies fast, your boss relays a new one over a batch of silverware and napkins that she`s rolling the silverware in. And then laughs herself because she was told on firm authority, this *authority* actually being an invested hopeful on the other side of the spectrum, and we just laugh together. Hard. For real. Are they for real?

* * *

I am still needing to be pinched. One part `cause it`s going so well. Two parts `cause there is still an element of limbo going on but I get along with all these people like we`ve known each other all along. I guess I`m waiting for the ball to drop. Either my own or someone else`s and they`ll lose it. I love this tip thing. But now comes the change and challenge of not blowing that cold, hard cash that you can put in your fists at the end of the day. The adjustment is weird. Just weird.

So this WAS going to be, originally intended to be, tried so hard (too hard) to be solely and expressly for writing my life stories. Mainstreamed, main-lined, side-lined, side-tracked, on track, whatever. An outlet, a gauntlet, a portal, a means to put it altogether, look at it, retrieve all the lessons I could out of re-reflecting, as many times as I wanted, all in hopes that it would be read by SOMEONE, anyone that could make any use of it whatsoever.

But I give up.

To some degree. I still want to get that out. Maybe I will. But for the powers that be and for anyone who would notice, I haven't logged onto here for quite a while. The last time I did, I just piddled around with my settings; and why? Who knows. Most likely it would be that I had signed up for this blog site just to have a place to blog, even though I had already blogged on MySpace, and intended to justify the proliferation of registered blog-able accounts by means of this site, specifically set aside for all the life-writing I wanted to get out.

But now, I'm just hoping to work on writing in general. I figure I can work on my art in this little studio, somewhat privately and uninterupted, and perfect it. Perfect the timing, the humor (which I seriously hope to develop far more of), get my thoughts out without criticism, having only myself to work against and the works of others as inspiration.

That being said and finally not worried about justification any more, I sign off the first of hopefully many more entries to come.

(Gah, I'm so lame.)