7200, 7199, 7198, 7197, 7196...

I'm counting down to the New Year, and gettin' the doxie ready for our midnight smooch. Yes and alas, readers, my New Year's Eve is being spent solo. Iffy weather conditions kept me from making any sort of travel plans, so it's just as well I'm staying home and reviewing the year that was, in hopes of doing much, much better next year.

Although my finances are finishing the year in worse shape, my body is faring a bit better than it was at the start of 2009. I've discovered that exercising doesn't have to equal the torture dished out by our grade school gym teacher, who extolled the virtues of running till one pukes and believed the way to motivate us chubby kids was through humiliation. (Yeah, that worked real well, Mr. Schwartz!) I had hoped to observe birthday 50 -- now just 113 days away -- with some sort of grand walkabout in the British Isles, but unless somebody actually gifts me with such a trek (or unless I somehow manage to double my salary between now & then), the trip won't happen this year. Nevertheless, I can aim to walk the five flights of stairs in the campus library without requiring supplemental oxygenation . . . .

While true love eluded me in '09, my ventures in the realm of romance did serve to confirm what I don't want in a relationship. Sadly, it also seemed to confirm that the men I am attracted to do not reciprocate the sentiment -- and it's not as thought I've got impossibly idealistic, unrealistic standards. (But perhaps they do?) Still, I'm going to give the Bolivian love amulet time to do its magic, and have every reason to believe that I'll at least have a date before the end of the first quarter of 2010. Hopefully without having to move to another state.

I wasn't a very diligent blogger this past year, and can't promise to improve in the months ahead, but will strive to at least maintain the same level of entertainment and whining that you've come to expect, with perhaps more poetry and original photography thrown in for interest.

And I will continue not to charge for this service.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Seasonal Greeting

A very happy Christmas

to all my blogland friends!

(Intell, right, and little sister, circa 1964 or 1965).

I Got Lucky!

Just not "that" way.

Intellikid didn't realize that certain items purchased from Amazon.com do not ship in a plain brown wrapper...and so earlier this week when my Christmas present from her was delivered, her hopes of surprising me were dashed. But all is good, because my dear, darling daughter (who had better never spend that much on me again, at least not until she has graduated from college and is gainfully employed) gifted me with a KitchenAid Artisan Stand Mixer. I don't even care that it's not the super-duper professional model I was lusting after a few posts back.

I'll pick intellikid up from the Charlotte airport on Tuesday morning -- I guess I'm getting lucky with the weather, too, because Tuesday is the only day in our local forecast next week where some sort of precipitation or other isn't called for. The foot of snow we got here in Bubbaville since Friday morning sure makes things look Christmas-y! Hopefully I'll get a break from shoveling tomorrow, and go finish start my Christmas shopping in Bubbaopolis. It's a tradition for my sister and I to take a day and go to the big city to shop, have a nice lunch with a nice glass of wine, and then shop some more so that at least one of us is sober enough to drive the 50 miles back to Bubbaville. (But first a stop at Sonic for a lime slush to go...did you know they mix really well with Tequila?)

Yep, I got me some. Some holiday spirit!

Just What I Needed!

Friday evening our department held its annual holiday booze-fest party, and I'm glad that's done with for another year much fun was had by all.

One highlight of these events is the "Gift Exchange Game," and this year I lucked out -- instead of drawing a useless, tasteless, cheap-O gift like the fugly pottery soap-dish I got last year, I ended up snagging a very cool Bolivian love amulet, pictured right. Tradition says that this charm will bring true love to the loveless, or strengthen the bonds of those already bound.

This timely gift comes (wink,wink, nudge, nudge) within 2 weeks of my giving up all hope letting my Match.com membership expire. As far as I know, there is no monthly fee to wear the amulet, and I am willing to believe that it posesses powers far beyond those of the folks at Match, who have yet to find a way to filter out shirtless, monosyllabic Baptists from my search results.

Now, Fate being the irony-loving bitch that she is, I may not actually need to call on the powers of the Bolivian pixies de amor to get me some find love, but it doesn't hurt to have a bit of auxilliary mojo in these circumstances. And if nothing else, I'll have a nice conversation-starter dangling in my cleavage at the rest of the holiday parties I attend!

I'm easy...

...to buy for when it comes to gift-giving time. In spite of the fact that my April birthday means diamonds are my best friend, I would cringe if someone actually tried to give one of these gems to me. And unless they're organically and locally grown, I really don't want to receive a bouquet of flowers, regardless of the giver's intent. Golden bling don't do a thing for this gal, either -- aesthetically I prefer silver metal, even if it's not worth its weight in gold.

Flowers, Diamonds, and Gold: The Destructive Public Health, Human Rights, and Environmental Consequences of Symbols of Love explains, in part, why I feel the way I do about these particular tokens of affection. In addition to the environmental havoc and inhumane conditions under which such "gifts" are produced, however, I object to the idea that a mass-produced trinket or centerpiece can convey the depth of one's feelings for another.

And I'm not saying that it takes something extra special, like the keys to a Lexus under the tree, to light my fire! No, if there are any secret Santas out there wondering what to buy intelli for Christmas, remember that nothing warms my heart (and other organs) better than a nice bottle of single malt.

Free-range, organic dark chocolates are lovely, too.