We did not end up seeing any of the New Year’s Eve fireworks, although we could certainly hear the 9pm show through the wall of the restaurant about midway through the fourth course (of six – oof – so incredibly full by the end, and that was with me passing on two of the courses because I didn’t like them). By the time we were done it was nearly 10:30 and it was freezing outside and the thought of milling about amid several hundred drunk and noisy people for the next hour and a half, all to see some fireworks (and then have to deal with the traffic jam of insanity that would surely ensue shortly thereafter as everyone tried to leave at once) was just not very appealing. So instead we went home and got so wrapped up in catching up on email (and another bout of Holidailies reading for me) that neither of us even noticed that it was midnight until I started hearing thunking outside, and was worried someone was trying to break something. And then we noticed the time and the minute we stepped out on the front porch, it was obvious all the thunking was actually fireworks (we could not see any, but we also didn’t stay out in the cold long enough to search). So we broke out the sparkling cider and toasted in the new year, and that was that.
Yesterday was more knitting (for me) and more poking about on computers (for Richard). We split a Walkin’ Pie (frozen since we last went to Apple Hill) with ice cream and cider sauce for breakfast, which seemed a fine way to usher in a new year. Lunch was the last of the salad greens from Christmas week (and I think this is the first time we’ve managed to eat an entire tub of that stuff before it started wilting and going slimy) with some toasted and buttered rosemary bread. Richard’s family arrived in late afternoon, and brought him more birthday presents, and took us out to dinner. Then they came back to the house and we all sat in the living room and nibbled homemade English toffee, and talked and laughed, although I did less of that than everyone else because I had to excuse myself to a quieter room to participate in a conference call with my sisters to hash out final details for the 60th birthday party we are throwing for my mom in less than two weeks. It seems to be the time for milestone birthday parties lately – our friend Jeff turned 40 earlier in December, and there was Richard’s 40th, and January is my mom’s, and then my older sister hits the big 4-oh in February, but after that I think it’s just the ordinary run-of-the-mill birthdays for the rest of the year and less of the frantic ‘eek we have to get this all done NOW!’ party sort of affair. I hope. Phew.
Anyway. I’m not really much of one for making resolutions, because I have a memory with the retaining power of a steel sieve, and tend to promptly forget whatever it was I’d resolved to do by about mid-February. But I do believe in goals and plans (after all, I am always all about making lists), so I have decided that I have a goal for 2008. We spent so many years in that last house of ours, with things that did not have a home, or things that were just piled, or dumped haphazardly in boxes or in closets, all because we could never be bothered to get around to dealing with them. One of the reasons I insisted on still hosting Christmas, even though we’d just moved, was because I knew it would force us to deal with a large chunk of the organizing, but there is still far too much left to do. I do not want to to spend another six years, in this new house of ours, looking at boxes and piles of stuff and thinking “someday we should do something with that.”
So I am henceforth declaring that 2008 will be the Year of Getting Things Done. To that end, I cleared off the cute little white board Richard bought for our office, and listed out 11 things that we need to accomplish in the month of January (I’d gladly have listed more, but there wasn’t room). And by the end of the month, when (hopefully) everything on the list is crossed off, I’ll make up a new list for February, and keep on going in that vein, and maybe, just maybe, by the end of the year, there will be less walking around looking at stuff saying “someday we should do something with that” and more sitting back and admiring a job well done.
Where did all those back slashes come from?
I didn’t get rid of the last mover’s box from our 1976 move until last year.
What’s your hurry?
When we moved out of the rented Roseville house in 1994, we pulled down two boxes of things packed up when we were in Alaska (THE FIRST TOUR) which had never been unpacked. That we even have so much junk is just ridiculous, but there you are! When we moved into this house I put the sewing room together in a hurry, but there are things in there I’m sure will surprise me if & when I ever get around to putting that room in order. Sometimes it just about makes me crazy. Lists are a good start!
If anyone can get a handle on it, though, Jennifer, it’s you. I wish you luck!
TTFN