Christmas card greed

Until yesterday, I had been a little bit sad because we had gotten very few holiday cards. I am assuming that this is because everyone sent them to our old house, and the post office, god love them, has stopped forwarding our mail.* (An assumption that is preferable to the idea that everyone just crossed us off their list this year.)  It's no big deal, of course; it just felt like the final "Fuck you" from our old house.  (Hopefully the final one.  That house better leave me alone if it doesn't want its ass burned to the ground.**)

But then yesterday, we got a nice little flurry of cards.  And when I got to work this morning, a lovely little bottle of Maker's Mark was waiting for me.  Could a person have better friends and coworkers?  No, a person could not.
I seriously am like, one of the top seventeen luckiest people around.  Sorry to go all Christmas sappy on you, but facts are facts and as a Scientist of the Library, it is my duty to report them.




*I'm not really complaining.  I know the the P.O. has its own problems.
**I wouldn't really burn that house down, federal government.  I understand that some ladies live there now and I'm sure they're very nice.

A fun Christmas game for the whole family

Lately whenever I see those inspirational sayings on church signs, I have been finishing them with "in your butt."  Sort of like the "in bed" thing with fortune cookies, you know.  For example:

"A gift is not a gift until given [in your butt]."
"Mary wrapped the first Christmas gift . . . isn't it time you accepted it [in your butt]?"
"A diamond is a piece of coal that stuck to its job [in your butt]."

See?!  It's magic.  This is my holiday gift to you--one that will keep on giving.  You're welcome.

spiked

I have been of two minds about the current holiday season. 

Mind #1:  Pretty stressed.  Flights to the deep, deep South?  Expensive.  My relationship with my brother?  Complicated.  Plus, I feel like every year, I have at least one epic Christmas Fail.  Last year, there were two; one involved gift giving to the in-laws, and the other was that I somehow did not send a Christmas card to my uncle, who is one of like three people who would actually give a shit about getting one.
These are the things that make my stomach hurt in the middle of the night.

On the other hand, there is

Mind #2.  Which can't help but be delighted by how delighted Soren is about Christmas.  For example, we got our tree almost a week ago, and he still hasn't gotten over the fact that there is a TREE inside our house.  Also?  It has lights on it!  He points them out to me every morning.  "Light!  Light! Light!"

On the subject of the main in the red suit, he was less enthusiastic.  I believe his exact words when placed on that lap, screaming as if in agony, were "MOMMY!  MOMMY!  PLEEEEEEEASE!!"

So, I am trying to be the normal human and let Mind #2 be the winner.  It's mostly working, aided by spiked egg nog and a little bit of Vince Gauraldi.

preemptive nostalgia

Soren is so magic right now.  There are a lot of interesting people in the world, but I must tell you that I believe the vast majority of them are eighteen months old.  Every day, new words!  Dozens of them! New levels of understanding about the world!  New loves and hatreds!  New tantrums to throw!  It is an exciting time.

I'm sort of nostalgic about the time we're having with him right now, even though it is still happening.  I have a feeling there are going to be a lot of stages that I really enjoy but this one has brought home to me why every parent thinks their kid is a genius--all 1.5-year-olds are geniuses.  (Well, most of them.  Let's not name names.)

Things he loves:  being outside, reading books ("Bookies!"  I have no idea where that came from, I swear), Elmo, naming things, bathtime, Julia (his daycare provider), Daddy, and Mommy.  (It's true, I am super popular.  I think it's because of my good looks and sparkling wit.)

Things he does not love:  getting dressed, coming inside, diaper changes, waiting for his breakfast to be ready (HE HASN'T EATEN IN LIKE 12 HOURS HE'S STARVING TO DEATH ABUSE ABUSE OMG), getting into his carseat, transitioning from book time to bath time, naps.

Apples are okay though.

Not part of the plan

Number one teen book to never ever read:  Halo, by Alexandra Adornetto.*

"An angel is sent to earth on a mission.  But falling in love is not part of the plan."



*Seriously? Adornetto?  Oookay.

Very exciting post about moving! A must read!!

This move has been a bit of a saga.  As those of you who have been breathlessly following each twist in the story will recall, we were originally supposed to move at the end of the month.  But then last week our hot water heater exploded and died.  Time to move!  We managed to reschedule the movers for this weekend--but alas, they scheduled us for the wrong day.  So there was a lot of standing around amongst packed boxes and sleeping on air mattresses and whatnot.

Finally, by about 6:00 last night, all of our stuff was about three miles north of its previous location.  Currently we are living amongst a bewilderment of boxes.  But I got to watch the sun rise over the Cascades this morning while I unpacked my clothes, so we're cool.

As one of the movers was maneuvering our giant television (not a flat screen--perhaps you've seen one on a historical television series such as The Wonder Years?) out of the van, he asked, "You want this in the house?" I'm sure he figured that our real television was hidden somewhere, and we were just transporting this one to go into Mr. A's Man Cave.

They were also a little bit chagrined by how many records we (and by "we" I mean Mr. A) own.  "Haha I sure am glad most people switched to cds hahaha!"  I think what he really meant was, "CHRIST ALMIGHTY HAVE YOU NOT HEARD OF DIGITAL DOWNLOADS OWWWWWCH."

Have you ever hired movers, though?  Did you know that they are insanely cheap?  They moved all of our stuff--and there was a ton of it, about 80% garbage--for like $430.  That's barely more than a U-Haul, and it took three hours. 

Things I Have Learned in My Adult Life:

1. Hire movers.
2. Don't pick at it.

Aaaaaaaaaand that's about it.

sock sack

I have nothing bad to say about the past week (week!!1!!omg) weather-wise.  It has been 100% gorgeous at all times.  We went to the woods for the long holiday weekend, and I remembered that part of what makes living here tolerable is going into the woods a lot.  I like the trees and the moss and the ferns.  Watching the rain dribble down into the city sewers is just depressing, but in the forest even the rain is okay.  You sort of get the point of it.

So, at the end of this month we are moving.  Into a house with eleven (!!!) closets.  You guys.  There is a broom closet, a coat closet, a linen closet.  There are giant huge closets everywhere.  I understand that being excited about closets is about as bougie as it gets, but I don't care.  I'm sick of keeping my socks in a sack.

Foreign preschool children

The weatherman swears on a stack of holy bibles and his mother's grave and his boyscout honor that starting at the end of this week, it will be sunny.  For like, a while.  If he is lying, I will track him down and give him such a pinch.  SUCH A PINCH.

Because isn't it weird how weather forecasters always take personal credit for good weather?  Like they are weather gods, rather than weather-guessers?  What's pathetic is that the weather they take credit for in Seattle isn't even all that good.  Mr. A.  noted a forecast from a couple weeks ago in which the weatherman bragged that it actually might not rain and "if anything, it would just be like it was spitting on you."  Really?  Just like being spat upon?  My, that is something to look forward to.  Thank you, weatherman.

Are you tired of talking about the weather?  Seriously, this is nothing, I could go on all day.  (Ask anyone.  I'm a super interesting conversationalist!) But okay, fine, new topic.

These days we spend a lot of time filling Soren in on what the animals say.  Have you ever noticed how many things it's possible for the same animal to say? Like, I felt very confident explaining that chicks say "peep peep," until I heard Mr. A. telling him that they say "cheep cheep," which I have to admit is more accurate.  I think we can all agree that ducks quack, but what about birds?  I mean, you can say that they tweet or whatever, but what Soren is mostly spotting are crows saying "AAAAAAAAAAAK AAAAAAAAAK."  And don't even get me started on all of the different things dogs can say, it's hopeless.

I learened all the barnyard animal sounds in French 101, but the only one I remember is the French duck, which says "coin coin."  It actually sounds almost exactly like "quack quack" if you leave off the last hard k sound.  This website concurs, but it also claims that English elephants say "baraag," so maybe the whole thing is an elaborate joke designed to make foreign preschool children feel foolish.

Hoo wee

So, it's almost July. Our heater clicked on three times this morning. THREE TIMES. Soren spent most of last week with a temperature of 104. I've given up wearing a coat every day, because just looking at a coat fills me with rage, so I'm always cold. All the blogs I read are like "Hoo wee can you even stand the heat?!  It's so sunny and warm all day and all of the night!!  I'm dyin' ovah heah!"

Fuck those people.

Excuse me. That kind of language is uncalled for. Make sweet, gentle love to those people. If you must.

At this point, it isn't even a question of waiting for summer to start. It's the panicked feeling that in two months it's going to be OVER, and we've only had about five decent days. How is it that the assholes already have all the warmer climates (in the U.S.) staked out? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be surrounded by Republicans/Nascar fans/Botox victims. Right? If I could just warm up a little tiny bit.

Sometimes being a librarian is okay

Cutest girl ever: Can we hang out over here in the Teen Center? We're, like, pre-teens.

Me: What grade will you be in next year?

Her: Sixth.

Me: Absolutely!

Her: AWESOME. This is the coolest library in the world.

dummies

The fun with our house continues. The thing, as Mr. A. points out, is that we are both stupid AND conscientious. You can be one, or you can be the other, but both is pretty much a disaster. The possibility of us getting smarter seems remote, so I'm thinking we may have to reconcile ourselves to being horrible people. Something's gotta give.

In far better and more important news, Soren is walking all over the place, and he's got a few words down. All he wants to do is be outside. Outside, happy; inside, tears. When we must bring him inside (as we often must because IT NEVER STOPS RAINING HOLY CHRIST THIS WINTER IS KEELING ME), the only way to distract him is with a book. He likes his animal books the best, and seems to be able to identify dogs ("duh!") and owls ("ow!").

Just for the local NPR nerds: this kerfuffle makes me sooo happy. I hope it ends horribly for Steve Scher.

Kids, man

Soren turned one last week.  Can you believe it?  No, you cannot.  It is an impossible but true science fact.

He has developed some pretty awesome abilities over the last month or so.  Most impressive to his librarian parents, he has developed a deep interest in books.  I've been pushing them since day one, but he's only ever been interested in them as teethers.  But now he'll pick one out, climb into your lap, and wait for you to begin.  He likes to turn the pages for you.  He also likes reading to himself, though.  He'll flip carefully through Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb (his current favorite), studying each page and babbling to himself.  (Reading!)  And he laughs when gets to a page he thinks is funny.  Kids, man! 

Ten rounds

Well, we learned the answer to last week's question.  Would daycare tell us if he started walking there?  Yup. They would.

First, a little background. Soren has been trying to walk for a while, but he is not great at it.  He's gotten pretty good at moving around the room holding onto the furniture and walls, but sometimes he gets overconfident and things go awry.  When they do, he tends to fall on his face (literally).  He's in the 15th percentile for weight, you see, but the 75th percentile for head size.  So he's a bit top-heavy.  And he's a pale man like his parents, so he bruises beautifully.

For several weeks our daycare has been none too subtly suggesting that we are horrible parents for letting him get these injuries.  "Have you seen these?!" they would say with their lovely Spanish accents, pointing to his face.  "So many!  I think more than yesterday!" 

We get all embarrassed.  "Yes, well, we usually catch him but you know, he's pretty quick . . ."

One of them said to Mr. A., "This baby looks like he's gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson!"  To which Mr. A thought but did not say, "I'm pretty sure Mike Tyson could kill this baby with just one punch."

ANYway.  When Mr. A arrived to pick Soren up at daycare last week, the daycare providers were somewhat subdued.  The good news, they said, was that Soren had taken his first steps! 

The bad news was that those steps had ended in a giant goose egg over (and under) his right eye.



It doesn't look too bad in this picture, actually.

The other good news is that the daycare ladies don't say anything about the bruises anymore.

From the technology news desk

Soren is so much fun to hang out with these days.  There were days not too long ago when I would drop him off at daycare without much regret, grateful to have a ticket back to Grownup Land.  But now!  He's so interested in everything, and almost almost walking, and not quite talking.  I'm missing so much.  Also, he cries when I leave, which sucks.

What if his first step and first word both happen at daycare?  I wonder if they will even tell us. I probably wouldn't, if I were them.  Better to let the parents live in happy ignorance of everything they're missing.

**
**

From the technology news desk, my sloppy parenting in regard to my previous iPod was rewarded with a brand new iPod.  It's my first touch screen device ever, and I feel so very modern.  I was amazed that it has a pedometer that works, although I guess if you have a smart phone there's an app for that, right?  Probably not very impressive.

Which brings me to our second major story from the technology desk:  I am getting my very first smart phone.  Can you even believe what an early adopter I am?  We're getting fancy Droid phones that I guess would work in Paris, if we were to ever go to Paris. 

We turned in Soren's passport paperwork this weekend, so who knows where we'll jet off to this summer.  Someplace exotic, no doubt. Like Vancouver!

My baby ate my iPod

Well, not so much "ate" as "slobbered into submission."  The heartbreaking thing is that it still plays, but the screen display doesn't work, so I can't get where I want to go. 

I hadn't realized quite how much I have come to treasure my forty minutes of podcast-listening on the bus, but dear god, now that it's gone I can barely stand to go on living.  There's not a lot of alone time in my life right now, so "alone" with fifty commuting strangers and my imaginary radio friends who don't know me at all is as close as I get.

It's my own fault about the iPod, of course.  One of my defining characteristics as a parent is my laziness, and in some ways I think that parental laziness is a good thing.  I don't want to be one of those parents who feels they must intervene every other minute in an attempt to ensure that their child is developing at maximum velocity.

But.  It's probably better to be paying close enough attention to make sure that one's child is not ingesting personal electronic devices.  If not for the child, then certainly for me.

Endless cornholing

You know how I know I'm old?  I like a lot of these dresses, but I look at every single one and think, too short!  Waaaaaay too short.  That is not a dress, sweetie, it is a shirt. (It's impossible to even read that sentence without hearing the granny voice in your head, isn't it?)  I'm pretty sure I can see underpants.  Also, are we really supposed to be sporting the fashions of Naomi from Mama's Family this season?  I don't think I can get on board with that. 

Luckily I can't afford any new clothes so these dilemmas are strictly hypothetical.

**
**

This weekend begins my new life of having every other weekend off.  I was at the end of my rope with the working every single weekend thing, and I'm a little bit dizzy with the freedom of having two whole days off with the family.  We have about a hundred things planned:  brunch, zoo, karaoke, etc.  (Well, Soren might skip the karaoke.  He just can't ever remember how the songs go--it gets embarrassing.)

We're also having an open house this Sunday, so swing on by!  It's not a great house, but the price is right.  Plus it has, as our realtor pointed out in the listing, "Large lot perfect for endless games of croquet!"  We have played croquet there, but in recent years our yard has mostly featured cornhole tournaments.  I guess "perfect for endless cornholing" doesn't conjour up quite the same image of Edwardian aristocracy for prospective buyers.

Arrived

I used to think it was challenging to get both the baby and myself out the door with no major stains on our clothes or crackers in our hair.  But that was kid stuff.  Actually challenging?  Doing the same, while also making sure the house is left in pristine condition for prospective buyers.

Soren has actually been a little angel the past couple of mornings, dutifully crawling around, pulling himself up, and chewing on the furniture.  Almost as fun as having a puppy!  But there are still mornings when he has to be held the entire hour before we leave.  I've gotten good at applying mascara while balancing a baby on one hip.  When I can put on eyeliner the same way I'll know I've truly arrived.

Don't even have a baby

Today was an exciting day at the library.  First, I got asked out on a date by a gentleman named Swan.  Well, to be more accurate, I guess he asked me to ask him out on a date.  He suggested that I show him around some of my favorite area bars when I got off work.  When I told him that I had to go home to feed my baby,* he said, "I don't even HAVE a baby to go home to."

Later, a crazy drunk woman came to hang out in the Teen Center with her son.  Her son seemed like a sweet kid and I can only imagine that he was silently dying of embarrassment as his drunk (or possibly drugged) mom cursed our printing system up and down.  To be fair, our printing system is indeed an asshole, but still, lady.  Have some mercy on your thirteen-year-old kid.



*I don't know why this is the excuse I went with, except that it's true.

Whew.

I felt terrible this week, and I had to take care of my kid, who felt just as terrible (probably worse), all by myself.  Also, we were trying to get our house on the market.  It was a hard week, filled with doctor visiting and nose-wiping and a desperate, futile battle to keep the house clean.  I felt very sorry for myself.

But now it's over, and I'm back at work.  (Well, over for me--Poor Mr. A. now has a cold and is home alone with still semi-sick Soren. S4, we're calling him now.)  I sound like your cigar smoking granny, but I feel okay.  And there is stuff coming up to look forward to.

Soon I'll stop working every weekend, which means more daycare time for Soren, but also more time for us to spend as a family and with friends.  (Friends!  Call me! I swear sometimes I answer the phone.)  Because of the scheduling vagaries of the library, there will also be two days a month when I'm off, but daycare is already paid for.  So I can drop Soren off for at least part of the day and then, oh my, the possibilities boggle the mind.  Go out to lunch someplace without high chairs!  Linger in stores!  Nap.

I feel guilty for how excited I am about those two days, but my guilt is tempered by the knowledge that I will mostly spend them cleaning the house.

blerg

Since I work every weekend right now, I took vacation days a few weekends over the past few months so that we could hang out together as a family, get things done, maybe go away to the mountains.  This past weekend was the last one, and now I am a perfect three for three: sick for all of my winter mini-breaks.  So no mountains, and not much has gotten done.

Generally Soren has been sick too, which makes for extra good times.  We spent most of Sunday at an urgent care because he was running a really high fever.  Now I think we both have sinus infections.  Whee!

You want to know how bad a parent I am?  I wished I could go to work sick today, rather than stay home sick with a sick baby.  It would be more restful.  I know, I'm the worst.

In happier news, The Amazing Race is making all my dreams come true this season.  They brought back all my favorite teams!  The Globetrotters!  The Cowboys!  Mel & Mike!  I could plotz.

Baby toy

It took Soren forever to learn how to crawl, so I sort of thought he'd be on the slow track to gross motor skillfullness.  But in just the past week, he's gone from being able to hold onto something when we stand him up, to pulling himself up to standing, to cruising around the living room holding on to furniture.

The other day I was mentally congratulating myself that we have actually done a pretty good job with the babyproofing.  No sooner did I have the thought than I turned around and saw what Soren was playing with--one of those giant lighters used for the fireplace.  So basically, a flame-thrower.  The perfect baby toy.

Sucker

Lately, when we're hanging out on the floor banging stuff against other stuff (as we so often like to do), Soren will crawl over to me and put his head down in my lap.  Then he looks up at me, smiles, and hugs my leg.  Like hey, this playtime is going great, but I need a quick snuggle break.

Talk about heart-melting.  At least he's still too young to ask for money.

Exciting weather news:  During my lunch break half an hour ago, I went for a walk in the sun.  Now the library is being pelted with hail.  Or possibly just incredibly pissed off rain.

Eleven letter

Being a grown up is strictly for the birds.  This morning I was grateful to see an ESL patron who always asks me how to pronounce words because I knew that at least her questions would be softballs.  Today's words, in case you are interested:  "eleven" and "letter."  I pronounced both of them beautifully.

In a disturbing development, lately I have found myself throwing a lot of thumbs up.  Have I become the kind of person who throws a lot of thumbs up?  Jesus.

Mr. Popular

Turns out it's true what they say--they grow up fast.  Soren has been crawling around for a couple of weeks now, eager to find as many electrical cords, coins, receipts, clumps of cat fur etc. as possible and cram them in his mouth.  He was recently felled by a double ear infection and the croup (no shit, apparently there is still croup in the 21st century), but even that didn't slow him down for long.  He is a smiley guy.  He smiles at strangers in the grocery line, on the bus, wherever.  He is popular.

p.s.  I started a book blog.  Well, I started it and then it kind of languished but I am seriously for reals starting it now.

A little window

Getting Soren and myself out the door in the morning with clothes on and noses wiped has become a Sisyphean task.  If you'd like a little window into my world, try doing your entire morning routine while carrying around a 20 lb. bag of flour.  When you come to a task you just can't perform with the flour in your arms, no problem, just put it down!  But at the same moment, play a recording of fingernails on a chalkboard.  Turn the volume all the way up.  Proceed with your task until you can't stand the noise anymore.  Pick up your bag of flour.

This is an imperfect demonstration of how my mornings actually go because your bag of flour will not, it is to be hoped,* attempt to grab and swallow your mascara wand while it (the flour) balances on your left hip as you apply your eye makeup with one hand.  (If it does, you'll probably want to go ahead and take it back to the QFC because that is the sign of either a very serious weevil problem or, only slightly less likely, haunted flour.)



*Does anyone else remember Claudia Kishi's annoying, know-it-all older sister, who once informed Kristi that "hopefully" is the most widely misused word in the English language?  Don't say The Babysitter's Club never taught me anything.

Clever

The Year of the Whole New Me is going mediocrely so far.  I'll have little bursts of enthusiasm or creativity, but they are quickly squelched by exhaustion/irritating emails/crying baby.  Also, January in Seattle is generally what the scientists refer to as "shitty."  It's cold and damp and DARK and what I'd really like to do is curl up somewhere drinking coffee until it's time to start drinking beer.  But people keep expecting me to show up for work.  (Also, it is my understanding that this would not be a healthy way of life.)

In news that's not about me, today is Mr. Awesome's birthday.  Happy birthday Mr. Awesome!  I was a clever girl to marry you.

Flop scoot

Soren seems to have developed separation anxiety.  Whenever Mr. A and I are out of his line of sight, he screams as loud as he can (which is about as loud as anyone) and then collapses into tears. He's also furious that he still can't crawl, so he'll sort of flop/scoot after us in a pathetic attempt to catch up, screaming all the while. It's fun for everyone.

Lest it sound as though we needlessly torture the baby, most of this happens when he's playing on the floor with his toys and I commit the heinous crime of, say, stepping into the bathroom to blow my nose. Our house is only 780 square feet total so it's not like I'm incredibly far away.

Other things Soren doesn't care for right now: putting on shirts, taking off shirts, putting on pants (taking them off is usually okay), putting on pajamas, drinking from a bottle, drinking from a sippy cup. 

On the bright side, he's usually a pretty happy guy when we're not messing with him.



The separation anxiety so far does not apply to daycare--he always seems stoked to be there.  In fact, there has been more than one morning when I dropped him off and his whole air was, "FINALLY, somewhere where people understand me."

Also, he does great in the car now. For months, he behaved as though his car seat were made out of fire, but now he seems to be as happy there as anywhere. We went away to the mountains for new years, a two-and-a-half hour drive each way, and he did just fine. Mainly because he is obsessed with these things, which I fed him steadily throughout the trip:

Creepy packaging, but apparently delightful to the baby palette.

Year end survey, 2010

Someone should make a new one of these that doesn't have that stupid one night stands question.

1. What did you do in 2010 that you'd never done before?
I made a person.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I don't even know about last year. I could look it up but that would require several clicks' worth of effort. I made some new ones, yes.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Pretty close.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No.

5. What countries did you visit?
Does south Alabama count as a foreign country?

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?
A full night's sleep.

7. What date from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Well, there was that one sort of eventful day in April.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I guess I'll have to go back to making a person, although I'm not sure that really counts as an accomplishment. I'm having a hard time coming up with anything else, though.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Not sending out a few cards, of the thank you and sympathy variety. I writhe about it at night, but it seems too late now.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Um. The C-section wasn't great, but it wasn't exactly an injury I guess.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
A glider! Not really, but I do like that glider. I think every beer I bought was the best thing.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
All of the friends and family who brought us food, gifts, emotional support, and generally made the whole baby thing possible.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Some of the boss type people in this here library system. That's right. I said it. You appall and depress me.

14. Where did most of your money go?
To the mortgage.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Going snowboarding this past weekend! Also, we kind of looked forward to the baby.

16. What song will always remind you of 2010?
This song always makes me think of Soren being born. Although I guess it's really more or less about addiction. So there you go.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
- happier or sadder? happier
- richer or poorer? poorer
- thinner or fatter? thinner! What with not being pregnant and all.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Exercise. I have a new understanding of the phrase "not enough hours in the day."

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
I'm tempted to say, "complaining about work," but the truth is I enjoyed every minute of my complaining. I wish there had been less to complain about.

20. How did you spend the holidays?
Christmas with the Awesome family in Utah, and New Year's Eve snowboarding at White Pass--a beautiful, clear blue day. Good times all around.

21. Did you fall in love in 2010?
Yes.

22. How many one-night stands?
0.

23. What was your favorite TV program?
My favorite tv program that we watch on the real tv is 30 Rock, I guess, although Community is a very close second. We're currently working our way through the entire series of Voyager on dvd, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Yes! Well, as my pious friend Mary in Catholic school used to say, "'Hate' is a very strong word." I am appalled and depressed by people that I was not appalled and depressed by at this time last year.

25. What was the best book you read?
The best grown up book I read this year was A Visit From the Goon Squad, by Jennifer Egan. Wait, does this mean best book I read this year, or best book I read that was actually published this year? I always get confused. Anyway, Good Squad was good.

26. What was your favorite film of this year?
Movies? What are those?

27. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?
Cheapskate Maternity transitioning into Aw Crap Nothing I Own Fits Me At All.

28 Whom did you miss?
My college friends who live on the Other Coast. My parents. My coworker who works at a different branch now.

29. Who was the best new person you met?
Soren is a pretty cool guy.

30. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010.
Sometimes medicine really is the answer.