but you went away---how dare you? i miss you.

I feel like I should write a tribute post to the woman who inspired this blog. She's been gone for almost two months, and I still can't believe it. Part of me wants to say that she was gone for far longer than that--her declining health took away her independence, which was a huge part of her. But that's not true. Even at the end--even the week before her death, when I last spoke to her--she was still her. She still had the feisty Irish wit that charmed and confused everyone she met. She still had a great perspective on life.
I miss her terribly. Not in the same sense as my mom and sister. While I have cried over this, it hasn't been constant, or public, grief. I don't think she would have approved of either of those. Rather, it's been a cloud of melancholy that has hung over me for the past two months, but, as with most clouds, there have been rays of sunshine bursting through. For every moment I spend realizing that we will never again sit on the couch with a tub of icecream between us watching the NBA playoffs, I also, blessedly, have a moment where I realize that she is the reason I am who I am. Ironically, she is the reason that I want to fall apart at the moment, but also the reason that I absolutely will not--she has inspired me to be strong, and she has given me the tools to be strong. She went through a lot in her life, and she never let it temper her unbridled joy or kill her sense of humor.
For the last year of her life, every time I spoke to her, she said, "I've let a great life. I have no regrets. I have really, really had a great life." I hope that at the end of my life I can have the same perspective. She crammed more life into her 93 years than five normal people. She climbed mountains and danced with generals. She bought meat off of burros and defended her house with a flashlight and a can of rocks. She played jokes on people--often for no reason--until the very end. I loved her, and I miss her.

Returns, warmth, and piles of puppies

1. Returning to work to find that my desk was not completely covered with frantic messages? Good. Returning to find that the surprise flowers I got before leaving for vacation are still blooming and beautiful? Better.

2. Driving to work with a seatwarmer is infinitely more pleasant than making the 40 mile trek without one.

3. Coming home to snuggle on the couch in a pile of puppies of a fantastic way to end the day.

Beignets, Snow, and Victory

1. Braving the snow for beignets--and that I'm married to someone who's willing to accompany me--makes for a wonderful birthday.

2. The snow is almost bearable since I know there are better things ahead.

3. A Gamecock victory--topping off the winningest season ever at USC--is one of the best birthday presents I've ever received.

On unpacking, cleaning, and reading

If what you do on New Years really predicts what you'll do for the rest of the year, we're in for a comfortable--albeit not very exciting--2012.

1. Our New Years Ritual, if we have one, has changed a lot in the six years we've known each other and five years we've been together. This year, we snuggled on the couch, ate pizza, drank wine, and watched reruns of our favorite nineties TV shows. He still pushed me to stay up until midnight, though I was tired from the 12 hours we had driven, so that he could kiss me and tell me happy new year. I hope that never changes.

2. Cleaning through our house after a week and a half of being away to make room for all our new Christmas and birthday gifts makes me thankful for what we have and, even more so, thankful that I have someone to clean with instead of doing it myself.

3. We ended New Year's Day with dinner at our favorite sushi joint and snuggling on the bed while we each read one of the books we were given over the holiday (Just Kids by Patti Smith, for me; Cooking for Geeks for him).

another year over, and a new one's just begun

It's been more than two years since I've posted in this blog or written anything, really. I'm reading Just Kids by Patti Smith, which chronicles her life in New York City and a lot of her writing and creative impulse during that time, and it's making me miss writing. A lot. I can't decide if I'm going to write in an obsessively-locked and protected online journal or a paper one, but I know I'm going to. Not here, though. I do hope to begin doing the three wonderful things blogging again this year. Let's see how long it lasts :)

1. there's something magical about the way the leaves swirl on their gradual descent to the pavement, even if they're still mostly green in austin.

2. i take immense amounts of pleasure in planning the details of our future life.

3. my afternoon class is canceled, so i enjoy an unexpected nap.

after the darkness

1. After a few weeks of total confusion and despair, I am optimistic about my career possibilities.
2. Clouds roll in and churn like waves.
3. Our plans change frequently, but with a few things constant: a house with some dogs, a kitchen to cook in, and a future together.