WanderingAmylessly 2.0

On this final day of 2007, I look back at my year and think, "Not bad. Not bad at all." I avoided a hospital admission. My therapist cut my appointments down to every other week. My meds are working so well I actually completely forgot about my last psych appointment. I kept fairly busy with my freelance work. I learned to knit with double-pointed needles (thanks Dianne!). My kid loves his new school. My husband started a blog to show off his awesome photography. My puppy is outgrowing her puppy-ness and becoming just the sweetest dog ever. Our parents and siblings are pretty healthy and happy these days. We have great friends who keep us smiling. And we're hoping that at this time a year from now, we'll be continuing to count our good fortune. AND count down the last few days of a most horrid presidency. Didn't think you were going to escape that easily, did you? VOTE FOR HILLARY!

We just wanted to let you all know that... WE'RE EXPECTING!!! Our beautiful bouncing baby MacBook will be arriving sometime in the next week. What? You thought we were discussing something else? Silly you.

It's 7 a.m. on Christmas day. My kid's still asleep. This might be the latest he's ever slept in his lifetime. What is up with that??? I hope he's not sick. I, on the other hand, was wide awake and wanting to dive into my stocking at 5:40. Life's funny. Merry Christmas!

As I mentioned in a previous post, I had stopped updating the weight tracker on my blog page -- mostly out of a deep-seated fear and loathing. For myself? For my pants? For rice cakes? For the nasty scale? I have done many not-altogether-constructive things to my weight loss plan in the past month. They mostly involved dark-meat turkey, stuffing, pecan pie, chocolate-covered pretzels, batches upon batches of buttery cookies, almond bark (woof!), eggnog with rum, and grande peppermint mochas from Starbucks. Yet something possessed me this morning. As I shed my clothes to step into the shower, it was like the scale was calling to me. "Just step on. Just take a look. One look won't kill. Honest," it said, and before I knew it, my feet were firmly planted on either side of the digital readout. And for the first time in my lifetime of Decembers, I did a happy dance right there in the bathroom. I was more than a pound lower than I had been the last time I recorded a weigh-in! S

I figured out a great way to bake Christmas goodies and not be tempted to eat them. Introducing: Canine Cookies! I made a huge batch today (I hope those mutts in STL aren't reading this...shhhh...don't tell them...it's part of their present!). And I didn't eat one. They actually aren't even nasty. Whole wheat, cheese, garlic. Ok. I'd better stop talking about it, or I'll wreck my brilliant plan and dive right in. The fact they look like Milk Bones is my only deterrent.

You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen... Comet and Cupid and Dunder and Mifflin. Catchy, isn't it.* *Edited to give credit where credit is due and was so rudely omitted during the first draft. This was Tim's creation.

I love baking. Especially at the holidays. My pants don't necessarily like my EATING of the baked goods, but that's another story (for those of you who were wondering, my diet efforts are on hiatus, so ignore the pound counter at the bottom of the page for now). This year, I baked several yummies to give as gifts to my clients -- the ones I write and edit for. I made lots of traditional favorites, but I thought I'd branch out and try something new. Note to self: don't do that. I saw the recipe in a cookie cookbook: Linzer Spirals. They're Scandinavian, they're a pretty red-and-white swirl, and they had hazelnuts in them. What could go wrong? 1. I couldn't buy packaged hazelnuts. I had to buy in bulk, crack them, then bake them for 20 minutes, then wrap them in a kitchen towel for 10 minutes, then slough off the skins, then chop them in itty bitty pieces. 2. This recipe required that I, once everything was all stirred up, spread the batter onto waxed paper i

Now that we've sent the majority of our Christmas cards out to friends and family, we can share some outtakes. If you haven't gotten your card in the mail by Friday, we probably don't have your address. So e-mail me!

This is the newest member of our extended family. Sophie, the Chihuahua/Pug mix, who was an early-and-somewhat-impromptu Christmas present to my niece, Bri, from her boyfriend. As Bri described her new puppy: She's 3 pounds of crack with legs. Congratulations, Mommy!

It's a beautiful, 6-foot Balsam Fir, with short, soft needles and a homey pine scent. We strapped it to the top of the car, sped home, whisked it into the garage, and went inside. To wait. For it to thaw. We'll see what comes first, a decorated tree or Groundhog Day.

Barenaked Ladies singing Elf's Lament I'm a man of reason, and they say "'Tis the season to be jolly" But it's folly when you volley for position Never in existence has there been such a resistance To ideas meant to free us If you could see us, then you'd listen Toiling through the ages, making toys on garnished wages There's no union We're only through when we outdo the competition I make toys, but I've got aspirations Make some noise Use your imagination Girls and boys, before you wish for what you wish for There's a list for who's been Naughty or nice, but consider the price to an elf A full indentured servitude can reflect on one's attitude But that silly red hat just makes the fat man look outrageous Absurd though it may seem, you know, I've heard there's even been illegal doping And though we're coping, I just hope it's not contagious You try to start a movement, and you think you see improvement But when throw

This was our view of the former president at a stump speech he gave Monday night on the University campus for his wife's campaign. He was amazing. And again, our family got a little personal recognition where Mr. Clinton was concerned. He was in the midst of a passionate bit about the state of the nation's educational system and asked a powerful rhetorical question. To which Henry, while perched on his daddy's shoulder, answered with a resounding,, "Yep!" Even though the answer should have been "No" and technically he was heckling, everyone in the room giggled. I think even Mr. Prez. The lady next to me asked if we'd been coaching him. I'm glad he didn't launch into his "I approved this message" schtick. At any rate, long story short, we are now a house-somewhat-divided. There's a yard sign out front promoting Hillary, and I've promised her people I will caucus for her on Jan. 3. Even after the football chat with Bill and He

Mommy, we're not going to build a toyland town all around the Christmas tree, are we? Nah, we don't have enough room for that, do we? Um, mommy...what's a toyland town? And so the questions continue. This time based on something like the 17th verse of Santa Claus is Comin' to Town . I suppose what made it even more endearing was his look: standing in the bathroom, wearing absolutely nothing but a quizzical smile and a pair of green socks.

I just saw a headline that grabbed. In a big way. "Ex-Bill Clinton Mistress May Back Hillary" My first reaction: which one? The one with the big nose? The lounge singer? The intern in the little beret? Don't get me wrong. I love Bill. (Then again, so has everyone else, it seems.) But is this news? Come on CNN, you can do better than that. For the record, the story was about Gennifer Flowers. My favorite quote from Ms. Flowers: "I would love to see a woman president, I just didn't think it would be her." I know Hillary wants all the votes she can get. If every woman who ever adored her husband were to get behind her, she's a shoo-in.

The holidays can be a rough time of year, especially if you lose a close friend. Snikk, faithful corgi mix pal of my brother-in-law, passed away unexpectedly around this time last December. We're thinking about him.

Overweight old man in a snowsuit who has an unnatural attraction to little kids travels the world with flying reindeer (one of whom is ostracized for looking different), lives in a land with a frightening Abominable Snowcreature (whose only reason for not gobbling up everyone around him is that someone pulled out his teeth), holds elves in indentured servitude and has his life's story narrated by a snowman named Sam whose voice bears a striking resemblance to a dead guy named Burl. Exactly who decided that this was a classic children's story? Whoever it was must have been on one doozy of an acid trip. And whoever it was certainly didn't live with my 4-year-old, who had flushed cheeks covered in big fat tears last night as he screamed, "I don't wanna watch it, I don't wanna watch it! Nooooooo!" First The Grinch , then Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer . I hate to even think about the upcoming Friday night's viewing of Frosty the Snowman . I can't remem

Thanks to all those who expressed concern. I am fine, physically speaking. I am very thankful that no one was hurt and that H wasn't in the car when the reckless jerk plowed into me. I'm just grumpy.

I thought the damage didn't look that bad. Until I looked a little closer. The bumper's squashed. The paint's chipped in a dozen spots. There's a big gash in the fender. And the whole hood is shoved up and cockeyed. Funny how "not that bad" turns into $3,183 or so on a damage estimate sheet.

A big old Chevy pickup. With sunny Florida license plates. Sliding fast. On ice. Through a stop sign. Smack into the right front side of my Civic. And of course he had no proof of insurance.

And just as I hit "publish post" on my previous entry, the electricity went off. It's back on. Pity party is over. All parties are over. G'night.

I haven't left the house all day. I'm drinking strawberry wine while listening to my 4-year-old watch a Caillou video. There's a half inch of ice over everything outside. My evening out's canceled. And my birthday's almost over.