It’s been a day of ass-sitting, but out of pure necessity.  Today, ass-sitting has actually been productive (and celebratory!  according to the scale, said ass has gotten smaller through the holidays!  wth?). 

I’ve gone through a year’s worth of photos, categorized and tagged them, sorted them, and freaked out because I don’t have pictures of my child’s third birthday.  What kind of a parent doesn’t have pictures of her child’s third birthday??  Not even the first one?  Where was I?  Apparently, somewhere WITHOUT THE CAMERA.  Geez.

I’ve unearthed $40 worth of gift cards to Restoration Hardware and a set of baseball cards from a web design I did eons ago.  Similarly unearthed?  A set of photos from my high school’s production of Oklahoma! in ‘93.  Heh. 

At long last, I finished a friend’s website I was supposed to have done in, oh, AUGUST.  Not that said website works in IE or Safari, but that’s what tonight and that bottle of wine is for, right?

I’ve called the friggen fraggen Time Life Books people and asked them politely to stop sending me a new! expensive! book! every four weeks. 

I’ve canceled two online services I simply don’t use anymore, including TypePad, which was sad.  I was an early Beta tester for TypePad (during which I found Allan, Ali, and Mike) and had a 20% Lifetime Discount.  LIFETIME.  Dayum, I hate letting that go.  I’m a fool for discounts. 

I’ve also waded through way. too. much. paperwork.  My scanner and shredder will sleep well tonight, and the file cabinet is sufficiently sated after it’s New Year’s Feast.

Finally, it’s January 2nd and I’ve already sent three emails to our accountant about things that for the past two years he’s been hounding me for in April. 

Tomorrow, I’m rewarding myself with an afternoon at the spa: Facial, Mani, Pedi.  I expect full relaxation and sore stomach muscles after much laughter with The Big B and The Pill.  Rawk.

But not until I get all these embarrassing high school musical pictures up on Facebook.  Beware, Facebook friends.  You’re about to be reminded of your hideously large bangs and your shaggy bowl cuts.  Ah, the early 90s.  When I was skinny, depressed, and known as “Hitler.”  Those were the days.

I’ve got some work to do this year.  Some goals.  One of which is write more here, but I’m not counting that as an official resolution.  I don’t know why, but roll with me here.

Resolutions:

1. Get healthier.  Not lose x amount of weight (though 60 pounds would be nice).  Not run a half-marathon.  Just get healthier.  Steps I’ve already taken?  I’ve got a trainer, a treadmill, and a monthly membership to Weight Watchers.  Let the health ooze on in.
2. Get smarter.  My child is quickly eclipsing me in intelligence.  This must stop.  I don’t want to thwart her genius, so that only leaves one option - increasing my own.  Steps I’ve already taken?  I’ve got crossword puzzles and fish oil.  Or is fish oil just for good skin?  Hrm.
3. Get snappier.  Both in dress and camera usage.  Dress will happen slowly and in its own time.  Camera usage I need to work on.  According to iPhoto, I took approximately 1 zillionth of the pictures I took last year.  This is inexcusable.  Steps already taken?  Four photos last night of Hubby, The G, and the dogs asleep on the couch.  Before midnight, yes, but nobody’s done anything cute today.  Unless you count Hubby cooking.
4. Get lotterier.  Hey, I’ll never win if I never play, huh?  Steps taken?  None.  I haven’t even gotten out of my pajamas today.
5. Get fiscally responsibler.  This is the year for building savings, pinching a penny, and cutting back on excess.  Steps already taken?  I’ve come up with a budget and so far, I’m well within it.  Awesome!

Big Official Resolution:

• Keep at least ONE resolution.

Let 2009 begin!

I reckon I have to preface this with:  I come from an old family. 

And now that I have offended every last one of them…

When people have asked me, “So how are you?” these last six weeks, my only answer has been to sigh and ask, “Full details?  Or summary field?” because so much of how I am lately has had to do with how other people have been doing.  So.  Full details?  Or summary field?  Summary field?  Awesome.

Sick grandma (Hubby’s), The G got pneumonia while Hubby out of town for week, sick Hubby, grandma (Hubby’s) died, The G had an ear infection, father-in-law had heart attack, cousin has brain surgery for tumor, favorite aunt has 90% blockage in at least 4 arteries with surgery (at least quadruple bypass) scheduled for the 10th, sick me, Thanksgiving and sleeping in four different states in 5 nights, first period in God only knows when and the craziness that goes along with that, walked in the door and The G threw up everywhere and spiked 104.8 fever, The G got pneumonia again, Hubby out of town for four days, new bed for The G, household chaos, tra la la.

Then my sister calls this afternoon.  Now?  With my aunt scheduled to have quadruple bypass surgery on Wednesday?  My brother-in-law is going in on Tuesday for what will either be a stint in “The Widow Maker” artery or open heart surgery.  Doing it Tuesday to have heart surgeon on friggen standby, so I’m guessing the odds aren’t in my BIL’s favor for skipping a chest crack.  And, of course, all of this, plus The G’s pneumonia (because BIL also has weakened respiratory due to histoplasmosis last year), throws our plans for Family Christmas next weekend into a wee bit of…um…turbulence.  In an attempt to ease the stress on everyone, I made the cardinal mistake of calling our father first, and I ended up calling my sister to apologize to her for our father (at whose house we have Family Christmas) calling her about what is agreed by us all to be The Most Stress Inducing Activity of The Year (scheduling Family Christmas) at a time when I’d hoped to relieve her stress.  Only he hadn’t called her yet, so it ended up being a two-for-one deal:  an apology AND a head’s up.

(I love my father, really.  Dad, adore you.  But when it comes to Family Christmas?  OMG.  Stress-o-rama-lama-ding-dong)

Needless to say, right now?  If you talk to me?  You’re likely to think you’re talking to your grandmother - the one who spends all her time nosing in all the family business and visiting hospitals and searching for which funeral home is holding services for Miz Immergene. 

If you look at me, you’re likely to think you’re talking to your teenage niece because hello acne breakout.

I won’t even go into that.

Okay, so if I want to be technical, it’s the second best e-mail of the holidays so far.  The first one dropped a famous name and had me dancing around my living room like an 11-year-old girl who was just told Edward is real and wants to bite her.

I do the majority of my Christmas shopping online because I am a) lazy, b) stymied into absolute indecision by the time/space constraints of stores, and c) lazy.  So usually once or twice a season, at least, I get an email response back from an online store that they are out of stock of something-or-other.  Today, I received this (gift name changed to protect those slated to receive such gift who may stumble upon this website):

Subject: Small problem with your order - please reply
Hi and thank you so much for your order.

Unfortunately, we don’t have the {thingamajig} in green/square. They are labeled as such by the manufacturer, but in putting them in your box we noticed that they were in fact either not green or not square.

What we have are:
Square: 2 pink, 2 orange
Round: 1 orange, 2 green, 3 pink

I am holding them all aside for you and will wait to see what you would like to do. You can either select different ones or keep them out of the order all together. Should you chose to replace them, please pick 4 instead of 3, the extra one is on us.

My response:

Can I ask that you just surprise me?  As long as I have ONE that’s not pink for my husband, I’m good to go.  I picked green/square because that was just the default, as I am the pits at decisions such as these.

Um…

Fine, so now that I have it all here, it’s not really as funny as it seemed at first, but you know what?  That’s all I got.  Unless you want to see the 30 minute video of The G drawing 9 names out of a hat for our Family Christmas Name Draw.  And, really, that’s just so not worth it.  Because 28 minutes of it is me saying, ““G?  G!  Focus!  Draw!  Wait, no, don’t feed the names to the dog!  Hang on.  Woo hoo!  Can you come back and stand on your stool, baby?  Here, I really need your help!”

Okay, Internet.  This is it.  This is the real deal.  See, I’m going to a concert Friday night with three friends.  I will be the fat chick in the group.  By, oh, 90 pounds or so.  Honestly.  They’re all, like, waifs.  I swanee.  I gave one of them a pair of work out pants I had that shrunk to miniscule in the wash and they fit her.  Kid you not.

(Um…why do I have so many SKINNY friends??? (and, yes, I’m looking at you.  And you.  And most definitely YOU.))

I went this morning to a trial session at a local 1-on-1 personal training facility I saw advertised on “The Biggest Loser.”  I went and got my ass kicked by this woman who is perhaps the closest thing to Jillian I’m going to find in the Greater Carolina Area.  And you know what?  Right now, I feel like I could go out there and pick up the badly parked minivan that I nearly hit while trying to get in the garage.  I feel amazing.  Tomorrow, I will be sore, but I’m actually looking forward to it.  Soreness is a sign of progress, is it not?

Anyway, so I’ve signed up.  Three days a week.  Costs an arm and a leg in a horrendous economy, but, you know what?  If I don’t do this soon - if I don’t do this now - it won’t matter if I’ve saved money because I simply won’t be here to spend it.  Between that and Weight Watchers, I am determined.  I will waver, I am sure, but I am trying to surround myself with a support system that will not let me give up.  I want this so badly I can taste it.  I can smell it. 

So there you have it.  I’ve gone and got myself a personal trainer.  Again.  Hello, deja vu.  Have a seat.  You can have the radicchio and carrots I just picked out of my salad. 

Fasten your seatbelts.  It might well be a bumpy ride.  Especially if I have to give up Hershey bars.