The Northward Contrail

Okay, it's 2010. Where's my jetpack?

So this is what 2010 is like.  When I was a kid in fourth grade, we had this collection of books we could read for credit.  The one we all fought to get was one called 2010 (no, not the Arthur C. Clarke book), and it depicted what the world was supposed to be like then.  It was heavy on computers, robots, space travel, cities in the sky...the typical vision of what 30 years in the future would be like.

Now it actually is 2010.  And the real 2010 is an awful lot like how it was in 1982, when I read that book.  I don't know how I should feel about that.

All I do know is that it's a new year, and a new start.  We're having our usual New Year's lunch: cornbread, stewed tomatoes, corn, pinto beans, blackeyed peas, and collard greens.  You always have collard greens on New Year's, because it's supposed to bring wealth in the new year.  Gotta eat lots of those, y'know.

Resolutions?  None so far.  Instead, I'd like to substitute "hope" for "resolutions."  It's my hope that the new year will bring a new job, and a new and fulfilling mission, for hubby.  If that will happen, I'll forgive 2010 for the lack of personal jetpacks.

(As a side note, here's a neat piece about the now-gone Omni magazine and its vision of the future.  Boy, does that bring back memories.  I never read Omni, but I sure know how those times felt.)

That's it

It's the last day of the year.  I can't make my mind up about 2009.  I got to do a lot of neat things this year, and I accomplished all but one of my resolutions for this year.  (For me, that's a new record.)

The only thing that really keeps 2009 from being a great year is a huge, sudden punch in the guts we got in late March.  Since then, through no fault of our own, I've had to be the breadwinner.  It's meant hopes deferred (or discarded), worry for both of us, and a certain degree of ongoing anxiety.  Some things have happened since that may hold some promise, but if nothing else, this year has taught us to wait and see. 

But, perhaps, I should focus on the things for which I should be thankful.  We got through 2009 with our health and home intact (if anything, I can't help wondering if hubby's free-agency may have been a gift; getting out of his high-stress environment no doubt added years to his life).  Nothing lousy happened to me at work.  I got to go places I hadn't been before.  Some really good things happened.  We have a lot for which to be thankful.

I leave 2009 with sadness, but also with gratitude.  And I hope 2010 will be much kinder.

The big day(s)

Christmas has come and gone.  We spent the first couple of hours at the house, did our gift exchanging, and then loaded up and spent the day with my family.  We'd made some cookies and pies and what not, so we had some fun getting all that over in their constituent single pieces. 

We started the day out with my brother and his family.  My parents were there already, and the girls were already wide-open.  One of my nieces had received a keyboard and sound system with microphone, and of course it's dangerous to have a microphone around me.  ("Smith, party of four, your table's ready."  Or "Last call.  Bar's closing.  Last call.") 

During the visit my mother took me down the hill to see my grandparents, who were very happy to see me again.  My grandmother, I'm happy to say, isn't in quite as bad a shape as I'd feared, and my grandfather hasn't changed a bit.  One of my aunts and an uncle were there; the uncle hadn't seen me in a while, and, well, he wanted to talk.  A lot.  I tried my best to parry his quasi-political comments with light one-liners, and managed to succeed to a certain extent.  (C'mon.  It's Christmas.  I don't want to talk politics to begin with, and certainly not on this day.)

Before too long, the proceedings moved across town to my parents' house, and the four of us spent a happy afternoon together.  Since I left home, my parents have gone from buying big "wish list"-type items to giving us a bunch of little surprises, like books and DVDs and gadgets.  Their batting average has been pretty good, too, if not downright inspired at points; some of the books are these collections of trivia, and I get sucked into those.  One of our joint gifts was a wireless weather station, and it's been a source of endless fascination ever since. 

There was also the annual orgy of food, and it not only meant that we got stuffed over there, but we also brought back a lot of food for later.  That's how we spent the evening, eating leftovers.  We also managed to eat up all the candy that was sent back with us, too.  I'm surprised we got to sleep that night.

It was a low-key Christmas, but in my mind, that's the best kind to have.  I hated to see the day end.  On the other hand, we'd have plenty to keep us busy the next day.

We were up bright and early so we could get on the road.  We were going to see my in-laws in Tennessee.  This, I knew, was going to be fun anyway; we play well together, and our ideas of humor are similarly twisted.  It's seldom boring when we're together. 

The only real problem with the journey was that Interstate 40 is still closed at the North Carolina/Tennessee border.  This meant a lengthy detour on some winding two-lane roads.  (I say "problem" as a term of reference; it added time to the journey, and one or two roads were kind of adventuresome, but the views were priceless.  I love the mountains, and mourn how overdeveloped certain areas are getting.)

We finally got where we were going.  The family was happy to see us, and we spent the evening unwinding and telling stories.  On Sunday, we went out, had some lunch, then engaged in some commerce...perhaps we were taking our lives into our own hands doing this the Sunday after Christmas, but it turned out for the best.  Hubby's brother got a craving for a radio-control helicopter and bought one, which meant lots of fun that evening.  We also went to a Target and to a Wal-Market, looking for post-Christmas clearance bargains.  (I took the occasion to get some non-Christmas necessities.  I didn't want to miss the opportunity to avoid a later shopping trip of my own.) 

Then, on Monday, it was off for home.  We took a different route back, taking I-40 to I-81 and then to I-26.  On the way out of Knoxville we stopped at a gas station for fuel and a snack, and I was amused by a sign in the window citing the health department's mandate that all customers must wear shirts and shoes, and ending with the sentence: "We apologize for any inconvenience."

We got back home safely.  The house was fine, the mighty tiger was very happy to see us, and it was good to be home after a busy few days.

I spent Tuesday getting the house cleaned up.  After the Christmas rush and not enough time to see about it, the house needed it.  But, believe me, that's nothing worth writing about.

This morning: Re-entry and recovery

We're back from visiting relatives a couple states away.  (Yesterday's post was written before I left and was automatically posted.)  It was a lot of fun, but it meant a lot of time on the highway, and I'm spending today recovering a bit -- maybe sleeping a little late, too -- and gathering my thoughts.  See you tomorrow.  (Oh, and maybe then I'll tell you the story about the sign we saw in the window of the gas station we stopped at.)

Intermission

That goofy, floaty week between Christmas and New Year's is here now.  I'm never sure I know how to feel about it.  When I was a kid, it brought letdown with it: all the anticipation of the month before Christmas, wondering what Santa would bring me, and building up to the unbridled avarice and greed of that morning.  Then it was all gone, and I can remember at least one instance of being a very dejected child when Christmas was all over and wondering why we couldn't just keep the tree up in the house all year.  (I'm glad I never said that out loud.) 

Over the years, that ebbed.  I think once my parents started wrapping the gifts instead of laying them out overnight, something changed, and the days after Christmas didn't bum me out as much as they had.  Now, if anything, the week after Christmas means there's a ton of leftovers and cookies and what not to dispose of.  (It also means there's fewer and fewer days to get the cans of corn, stewed tomatoes, black-eyed peas, collard greens and pinto beans for New Year's Day lunch.) 

At any rate, here we are, so make the most of it.  It'll be back to the old grind soon enough.