while Frank Sinatra sang "Stormy Weather"

The next time I question whether I should continue blogging, I will remember the perks that befall lucky bloggers, especially in this, the holiday season. How else can one explain a collective of mind-exploding music arriving on my doorstep this evening? Some people should take up putting together playlists for a living. A mixture of this, and an introspective missive from SJM, prompted me to review my year. SJM’s workplace, like mine, uses what I like to call management bullsh*t, which means that everyone is supposed to provide feedback about what works well (their Plus column), and what could use improvement (their Delta column). Because nothing ever works poorly (i.e. their this sucks a$$ column), of course (cue the eye-rolling). I can’t divide my year into a plus column and a delta column, because very little about my year was as black or white as that, I’m afraid.

• Relevant to this space, I went from my usual, comfortable anonymity to meeting eleven bloggers in person, and got absolutely amazing packages of magic from two bloggers who I have not had the good fortune of meeting yet.
  
• I failed to obtain what I wanted most. This should have been a tragedy, I suppose, but it wound up not. I cannot say it is all for the best, not yet, but I can say I might have never known for sure how much I wanted it if it had not slipped through my fingers this year.
  
• My grandfather had a heart attack. But he survived it, and it prompted me to see him in June.
  
• A friend with whom I’d lost touch committed suicide. There was nothing good about that.
  
• Another friend battled it out with the big C and beat it down this year. She looks fantastic, she’s happy, and it’s the best argument for modern medicine I’ve ever witnessed.
  
• I did not have to move out of my beloved city.
  
• My sorry, peppermint patty-eating, supersized, lazy a$$ made it to Macchu Picchu. All hail the motivational abilities of Gael Garcia Bernal!
  
• I fell madly, helplessly in love with science again. And it did not go unrequited.
  
• Someone tried to break my heart, in pursuit of a hat trick, but failed.
  
• I didn’t quit my job. If I was going to put that in a column, I’m pretty sure it would not be under Plus.

I don’t think it was a fantastically wonderful year for anyone. Even if you were having the best year of your personal life this year, I don’t think you could write it off as a good year, on the basis of earthquakes, hurricanes, wars, intelligent design, etc. But I remain hopeful, as always, despite outward appearances. Hope is something you should keep guarded, actually.

All the cooking that I avoiding on Thanksgiving could not be avoided for Christmas. I forced my GBF to throw Christmas dinner at his place. Being my GBF, his place is ten thousand times more fabulous than mine. However, since I had coerced him into throwing the dinner, I took responsibility for most of the cooking. Luckily, no one was looking for an authentic Christmas meal, so a simple spread went over without grumbles. And I got to buy bourbon, under the excuse of making a pecan pie.

SP & I went on two hikes this weekend. One of them was partially on George Lucas’ property. The entire time we were on that muddy trail, I annoyed SP by making really dumb Star Wars jokes. “Don’t worry about the rain, the Stormtroopers will not allow it.” I’m surprised I was not sent tumbling down the muddy path.

I’ve been disconnected from modern conveniences, and it has not been all that bad. But now, I must return to the Sisyphus-ian task of cleaning my hovel of an apartment. I want to ring in the New Year with a passably straightened out abode.