2010 in review

I've been dizzying myself reading through the last year's worth of archived stories for my newspaper for Dec. 31's edition of our annual Year in Review.

Personally, I've been nostalgic the past few days, which I think is a result of the season and the fact that 2010 is three days shy of being gone.

So without further ado, in a format similar to my celebration of 2009, here's my (personal) review of 2010:

I started 2010 in Weed, New Mexico on the ranch. In January, I lost a very good friend, Sam Conn. I cried again yesterday when I read what I wrote about him the day after he died. Some people you just can't forget and he is one of those people for me. I attribute much of who I am as a journalist to all the things he taught me. My newsroom, though far removed from Silver City, New Mexico, still feels empty without him.

I visited Kentucky in February when, in light of Sam's death, I considered my friends more importantly and learned that through death, you live life a little different. Death can be cleansing.

March saw my heart plummeting to depths I didn't think was possible. Drowning in reality was the only way I knew how to put it. Readers were concerned but sometimes there are things only the heart can know. It was also in March that I moved with the family to Van Horn, Texas, an event I didn't herald here.

I visited Kentucky again in April. The timing of the trip was spurred by a good friend's father's passing. Being at his funeral wasn't even a question. I wrote about my precious, precious friends, the backbone of my community, despite the distance.

I dreaded posting about May because of her. Her pictures are all buried in safe places out of sight; I still cry about her in moments when I miss her the most. I should stop talking about her now.

In June, I wrote about the affect my step-dad leaving for the second time had on my heart. I didn't write about it specifically - I knew he read my blog from time to time and I didn't want him to know then how deeply his actions wounded me. I've also never felt so much anger towards anyone as I did toward him.

Between here and here in July the family and I left Van Horn and moved to Marble Falls. What a time of beautiful transition and watching everything fall into place.

After more than a year of being out of journalism, I was relieved to be back in it again in August. It felt complete.

Looking back over my writing from January to September, I sense a sadness from the author - a heaviness. But in September, I feel a life coming back when I began re-discovering myself. It was a brave journey I started with two of my sisters and my brother and one I'm so grateful to have finished in November. It literally saved my life.

In October, I was blessed by the simplicity of the friendships in my life and I continue to be every day. I'm the luckiest girl alive with friends and family who know me, want to know me more and have been there to support me through a tough year.

Mom and I have always been close but our camaraderie was deepened over the summer and into the winter. It's such a unique phase of our life and of our relationship, but there's no place I'd rather be.

By the time December rolled around, I was proud to have lost 30 pounds - a feat I started in August. After years of trying, it seems I've finally found something that works and I look forward to losing about 24 more in the new year.

If I had to sum up 2010 in a few words, it'd be that it was the year of death and reawakening. There was a lot of pain and scary anger, many (angry) tears and a lot of sad ones too. It was cleansing, purifying and at the end, there was a lot of life too.

horse barns and day cares

I've worked in a daycare, I've worked at several horse barns. The comparisons are lengthy but it all starts with hyperactive parents/owners who firmly believe that their child/animal is the most important part of your day and that as such your undivided attention must be devoted to it.

I don't know which is worse.

The parents, I can understand. It is their kid we're talking about.

I have no tolerance for the horse owners. It is animals we're talking about. And as much as they like to think that their pony is world class material, it's not. And no, I'm not spoon feeding it.

Tonight I fed over 50 horses at our neighbor's ranch. Some of their horses are nice stock, others are boarders and my worst nightmare is dealing with overprotective horse boarders.

"Now you know that Emma gets half a scoop of feed and only one flake of hay? Oh, and just half a flake of alfalfa. She's fat." I even get the arms in a circle as if I don't understand the meaning of fat.

Another boarder rushes out.

"Are you guys doing chores tonight?"

No, I'm standing on a mountain of hay throwing bales down to my little sister for no real reason.

"I'm guessing you know what you're doing?"

Again, no. I am a chore virgin and basically, I'm winging it.

"Did you give Merry Christmas and McDreamy two flakes of hay? Under the canopy for when it rains?"

I didn't but your friend with you did. She waved us off as we were driving by.

"No, I didn't feed them. I just picked up a flake, one, that fell off your wagon. I didn't feed them!"

Bitch. Throwing me under the bus? Really? But then...

"It was Merry Christmas' day yesterday, wasn't it?" I said, feigning interest.

Her owner gushed. And then ...

"That's like the only day out of the year her name is appropriate." Uh-huh. I went there. For reals.

She was in so much shock that the hired help actually used a big word like appropriate that she grabbed two flakes of hay and walked away.

Back in the barn, another boarder walked by.

"Oh, are you guys the new help?"

Nope. Just helping out a friend.

Bitchy horse owners are best spoken to in brief, declarative sentences with eyes averted to the ground and forward motion maintained at all times to avoid getting caught in their devious web of misinformation and misguided instructions.

But really, I want to say to them - who do you think properly cares for your animals the six days out of the week you're non-existent to them?

Amazingly, every seventh day you show up, they're alive and well. Shocking.

spoiled, rotten, love

Seattle's best?

I started my Christmas morning with a cup of coffee that tasted like dirty socks. I was informed it was "Seattle's Best" and judging from the look on mom's face, she didn't like it either.

I summarized that it tasted like a "crappy, shitty foggy Seattle day," which is probably the best Seattle has to offer - I don't know, I'm just guessing.

There were rumors surrounding Christmas 2010 that I was the Grinch.

I will admit, I just wasn't "feeling" the Christmas spirit, as I've discussed here before. Several things contributed to this, I think:

1) the weather. Hard to have Christmas when it's 88 degrees.
2) um, hello Dec. 25th. Where the hell did you come from?
3) lack of travel. This was huge for me this year. Usually either I'm having to travel home for Christmas or I'm waiting for people to travel to me. I was actually jealous of people who had a four-hour drive home to Houston. There's a certain element of excitement that goes along with the stress of planning for a trip, actually getting there and then having it all melt away when you walk in the front door.

Don't misunderstand.

My day was awesome. My family is awesome. Our Christmas had all the elements of our family Christmases - gifts, the simplicity and volume of us all being together, my voice scaring the poo out of my niece when I raise it any octave, and card games (always card games!) Oh, and 48 Hours on ID while playing card games. That show is suddenly a new obsession in my family. My little brother and I sat in the recliner the other night and watched an episode while rehearsing the Toys R Us commercial song and hi-fiving when we nailed it.

MICAH: "I don't"
ME: "wanna"
MICAH: "grow up"
ME: "because"
MICAH: "I"
ME: "wanna"
MICAH: "be"
ME: "a"
MICAH: "Toys R Us"
ME: "kid"

Sounds easy. Totally not.

It was during this same session of watching 48 Hours on ID and River Monsters that he made a bet with me.

"I bet you $100 that you'll have a baby before the first year of your marriage. Wait, I mean be pregnant."

(side note: I'm nowhere near being married much less prego.)

We shook hands but then I realized I was in the dark.

"Wait. What am I shaking on?"

"That you don't think you will be," he explained and then informed me that I could not retract my shaking, which was fine with me. I don't see myself pregnant in the first of the invisible marriage.

But back to Christmas.

It was a good day, as I mentioned. Fun memories. I got a ceiling fan cleaned and some blinds. We cooked some kickass food and enjoyed each other's company.

I am blessed. And sleepy.

before and after I lost 30 pounds

Santa was slapped in the face

There are different camps of religious folks this time of year.

The ones who herald Jesus' birthday. The ones who don't mention him. The ones who criticize the ones who don't mention him. A large portion exhort everyone to remember the reason for the season (Jesus) and others put their foot down against commercialism of the Savior's birth while scrambling last minute for the 900th gift.

Santa Claus was slapped in the face tonight.

I had to cover a (pointless, pointless) event tonight where Santa Claus was toted around on a firetruck across town with two predetermined stops - one at an elementary school, the other at a grocery store.

I waited an hour and a half for him at the school, which happened to be hosting a church's Christmas Eve service.

Vehicles lined the street and around three blocks as people poured into the school to celebrate the baby in the manger.

Ten people showed up for Santa Claus.

For all the religious folks who stand up to defend the CHRIST in Christmas, rest easy.
Santa doesn't win every time.

Oh, and did you know that if you scramble the letters of Santa, it spells Satan?? **gasp**

when your mom calls, but didn't mean to call YOU

Mom just called, which in the world of texting is kind of unusual so since I'm just sitting at my desk waiting for the Santa-Clause-on-a-firetruck tour to start and perusing blogs I haven't read in awhile, I had time to answer.

Have you ever been talking to someone, making small talk, and then at a decidedly awkward point in the conversation, you realize that person 1) doesn't know it's you they're talking to and 2) didn't mean to call you? And it's your job to break the news to them?

Awkward.

She's my mom and it was still awkward.

She told me she was on her way home, we chitchatted about the weather ("it's raining here, is it raining there?") and then: "So how did Evalyn sleep last night?"

I thought she was joking so I went along with it, "Um, I wouldn't know because...wait, you know this is Holly, right?"

The admission-of-guilt pause. Classic.

"You were next!" she said in her defense, before I could even begin to tease her about it.

She assured me she did intend to call me, just not at that moment.

"I meant to," she said. "I just didn't know which one of my speed dial buttons I pushed."

Blame it on technology, Mom. It can take it.