The first thing I remember this morning was my phone chiming with a sound normally associated with Tinkerbell telling young readers when to turn the page. It is my text message tone with a text from my coworker wondering if I'm ok. In a panic, I look at the time. Almost 11am, meaning I slept FIVE extra hours. No point going in today. Frustrated with myself, I decide to take a run (me! I know). The day is beautiful, and after three weeks of rain, every face I pass on the street smiles at me. I run down familiar and unfamiliar streets, silently pouring out my heart at the houses I pass -- the quaint cotteges along with the faded shacks with 25 years of junk on the front porch and dead leaves patchworking the wet lawn. I love them all. I run down to the locks, and turn back to pick up a cup of coffee on my way home. I needed this.

Bitterness and Skepticism, welcome back. I'll never never forsake you again.

Hottest Missed Connection Ever

http://missedconnectionsny.blogspot.com/2010/01/when-i-put-your-coat-collar-up.html


Whew!

Hmm, this is interesting:

Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence.

- George Washington

(I just saw it as someone's facebook status, so don't hold me accountable for inaccuracy).

The older I get, the less I understand how to live.

I have to admit that I'm sad to bid farewell to a year that has most of the country screaming "good riddance." 2009 has been one of my best years ever: the year I got my first real job (I can't imagine working for a better company), the year I moved to the first city (outside San Luis Obispo) I've really felt at home. I never imagined it was possible for things to change so much in a year.

Every year our neighbors (in Encinitas) have a pancake breakfast on New Years morning. Since I was living at home at this time last year, I accompanied my parents as we walked down the street. We were almost at the house where delicious steaming stacks of pancakes, fruit, real maple syrup, and scrambled eggs were waiting, when another middle-aged couple fell into step with us and introduced themselves. Making friendly small-talk, they asked me What I Do.

This was one of the lowest points in my life. I had no job, no plans for the future, and was living at home in a town where I felt out of place and had no friends. I couldn't bring myself to admit these things for the thousandth time - even to myself. And I realized I would have to face dozens of other people asking me the same question at the breakfast. Suddenly I couldn't breathe.

"I can't do this" I mumbled to my parents. And before they could react, I turned and ran all the way home - my footsteps matching time with my racing heart.

What a difference a year makes. Here's to a happy and healthy 2010 - especially to those who were bruised by 2009.

Deep in Bear Country

I'm reading Stan and Jan Berenstain's autobiography. It's kind of awkwardly-written, but the most interesting aspect is their unique insider's perspective of Dr. Seuss. I never knew he was such an indispensable in their writing process -- I mean he practically wrote their first book (The Big Honey Hunt). After acquiring an agent, the agent sets them up with a group headed by Ted Geisel. Their portrayal of this opinionated (but usually spot-on) zany curmudgeon is really the highlight of the book so far. After the release of that first title, Mr. and Mrs. B. are eager to write more about the bear family, but while swigging bullshots (beef bullion + vodka) Ted Geisel urges them to avoid a series ("there are already too many bears"). Thankfully for us all, people loved Papa Q. Bear and "Small Bear" so much that Dr. S. was forced to acknowledge that they should continue down that sunny dirt road.I got sidetracked looking for a picture to include here. Google "Berenstain Bears" for some hilarious results. There are dozens of new titles out I hadn't seen, including a bizarre bunch like The Berenstain Bears and God Loves You!, The Berenstain Bears and the Big Question, and The Berenstain Bears Say Their Prayers. What the hell?