I resolve...

Well, it's that night. And to paraphrase Queen Elizabeth's sentiments on the year Windsor Castle burned, 2009 is not a year I will look back upon with fondness. To put it bluntly, it rather stunk up the place. But all the crap I've been dealing with for the last year is soon to be done with. There are good things ahead for me and my family, and I plan on making the most of them by resolving:

To never again settle for less than I deserve.

To try to provide the best possible future for my kids.

To write more and angst less.

To not give a shit about what someone thinks of me unless they've shown me why I should care.

To play more.

To procrastinate less.

To reach for the things I want.

For all of you, if you had a great 2009, I hope 2010 is even better. And if your 2009 smelled like something a trucker left in the gas station bathroom after an all you can eat taco buffet like mine did, well, things can only get better right?

Right? Hellllloo.... Anyone? I'm right, aren't I? *ahem*

I got everything I wanted!

Okay, so I didn't want much, but well, that's the way I roll. Call me what you will--minimalist, frugal, a cheap date--it just doesn't take a whole lot to make me happy. Some time off work, the love of friends and family, the sight of three kids exhausted from an unbridled orgy of unwrapping, the smell of a turkey roasting, a few pairs of jeans with an inseam that won't leave me looking like I'm waiting for a flood....

Okay, so I really wanted complete peace in my house for 24 hours and didn't get it. What parent of more than one child does? And so I really wished I could be with all the people I love more than anything. What child of wonderful parents doesn't? But all in all, a good Christmas morning, with prospects for a great Christmas night. Hell, even the dog is in the spirit--I cooked a prime rib a couple nights ago, and she's gnawing on a meaty bone as I write this. The kids are up to their armpits in loot, and I'm two ounces into my first glass of wine of the day. My friend and her little boy and his daddy are due to arrive in just a few hours, and we all plan to gorge ourselves on the traditional seasonal victuals.

The stress of a couple days ago? Gone. This doesn't mean I got everything on my list done, mind you. But the deadline has come and gone, and I'm not about to sweat it anymore. It's freaking Christmas.

A merry one to you all! :)

Excuse me while I...

...indulge in a much needed, quasi-public panic attack.

My ability to delude myself into believing Christmas was still days and days away, still plenty of time, don't sweat it, it will all get done? Well, it abandoned me at about 8:30 last night. I suppose it had to happen sometime. I mean, I may have some mad denial skillz, but time and Santa wait for no man (or dirty book writing procrastinator). And right now, the fat man's red-velvet covered butt is about to squash me but good.

Still to do:

Wrap about 40 presents. Separate the stocking stuffers into piles.

Purchase two more presents (OMG, how could I have thought I was actually DONE?)

Buy a turkey with my IGA Turkey Bucks, plus potatoes, a loaf of good bread, veggies

Dig up my cattle prod and make my kids clean and toddler-proof the family room so my friend's half-demon hellspawn will be unable to blow up the house Christmas Day

Locate my HazMat suit and clean the upstairs bathroom

Work my last shift until the New Year

Get bank stuff in the mail to my lawyer

Bake a couple loaves of Christmas bread (optional, but if I don't, boy will my best friend be annoyed when she shows up with my bottle of homemade Irish cream and I have nothing to give her)

Swallow half a bottle of Tylenol with codeine so my head doesn't go all explody

Find SOMEPLACE in my cluttered little house to stow 60 bottles of wine

Drink 30 bottles of wine to make room

Yup. There are benefits to being a last minute kind of person, but right now I'm having a hard time remembering what they are. Still, it wouldn't be the holidays if I wasn't curled up into a ball in the corner, shivering and sweating and screaming "I want my mom!" and praying for it to just be over. I hope when the men in white coats come for me, they'll be gentle. It is the holidays, after all, and we could all use a little good will this time of year...

Winnah, winnah, chicken dinnah!

Actually, we're having pork roast tonight, but whatever.

I asked my random number generator--otherwise known as Blammo, my third-born--to pick a number between 1 and 7. Fully embracing the role, he beeped, rattled, hummed, started emitting smoke, and then hollered "5!"

Which means flchen1, you get a platter of bland, rubbery veal, served up inside the thrilling plot of my first published book, Crossing Swords. I have your email, and will send ASAP (as soon as plausible, which means tonight, if I don't have a maternal lobotomy moment). Congratulations!

Contest at the Cafe!

I'm doing an impromptu contest over at Samhaincafe today, but any of you regular readers want to enter, go ahead and leave a comment here. Winner gets a digital copy of their choice of one of my four Samhain books. :)

ETA: Contest open until Sunday, 8:00 pm Pacific.

AWOL

Okay, just a small update for you all. I've been kind of incommunicado these days. I have a shit-ton of stuff to deal with, most of it less than pleasant, and haven't had the energy or the right mind-set for writing or blogging or even having long, convoluted email conversations with my online friends.

But, never fear. None of this is anything that a battalion of family law attorneys, a couple cases of beer judiciously applied and some primal scream therapy can't fix.

On the bright side--just so I don't close on a down note--I got my hair cut and it looks totally blammo. :P