Well, I was so, so close to skipping today's update and double-posting tomorrow that I had even shut down the computer. Then I remembered: commitment! No, not really, I threw that out the window a few hours ago. What I really remembered: it's my one year journal-versary!

I could do one of those one year retrospectives, where I list all the funny clever things I've said and done this year, but you know what... I'm right in the middle of watching (okay, falling asleep during) Sliding Doors, and the whole meta blah blah look at me thing is just not happening tonight (plus, really, the links are all right there on the sidebar). Instead, I'll tell you about my day. Blah blah blah look at my day instead, okay?

So, it's the day before my Christmas break. First, I made plans with Julio to jet-ski in Honduras tomorrow, then I drank a cup of Ruta Maya coffee, sent a few happy emails, finished several projects, cleaned my desk, drank another cup of coffee, went to the store for Tums because the coffee gave me a stomach-ache. Thrilling so far, right? I went to lunch at Truluck's with the office ladies for a meeting about a big-ass party we are throwing in a few months and ate the best fried calamari I have ever had. Ever. I will dream about that calamari tonight. A few months ago, I had no idea that I even liked squid, and now I will dream about it. Back to work for a bit where I argued with the telephone guy for a while, finished a few more emails, and then - thank you, Santa - we got to go leave a bit early, ho ho ho.

I made big plans for my surprise afternoon off on the way home. Last minute shopping, hanging out with a friend, maybe a drink or two. Then, just after I got home, Oprah came on, so I got waylaid for a minute when my ass affixed itself to the couch. It was an Angel Network show about South America and Oprah and money and giving and stuff. I spent the hour weeping. That's right, I said weeping. That's what you call it when your throat suddenly closes and your eyes well with tears that stream down your face and you spend commercial breaks crying into the corner of the blanket about how meaningless your life is. Then Alicia Keys came on and told us all about how her trip to South Africa changed her life, complete with footage of her walking through schools and villages holding babies and hugging children, all with a bandana on her head under a baseball hat that was cocked to one side, and of course, sunglasses. I mean, Rock Star, I know, but it seemed a little disrespectful to me. Then Oprah gave Alicia a check for 40 MILLION DOLLARS and I lost my mind. No, I didn't mean to say 4 million. 40 MILLION DOLLARS. Dude. There are no words. I mean, I cried happy tears for all the babies that forty mill will save, but I'm not gonna lie to you - I cried because, holy crap, Oprah can write a check for 40 MILLION DOLLARS to one person? WHAT THE HELL am I doing with my life? Weeping, that's what.

This is why I can't watch Oprah on a regular basis: that one episode threw off my whole afternoon, I swear. All that weeping wore me out, so then I had to wander from the porch to the office to the couch for a good two and half hours with no purpose. I put off last minute shopping until tomorrow, got blown off by my friend, called Sarah only to discover that her and Andreia were hanging out in Lubbock together WITHOUT ME (god, the nerve), called Brad and had one of those conversations where we are both grumpy and end up saying things like "Well?" and "Hrmph" and "Scrooge scrooge scrooge", and then watched Welcome to the Dollhouse. Great timing, right? Watch a movie about a pathetic little girl that kind of reminds you of yourself at that age right after WeepFest 2004? Mmm-hmm.

And that, my friends, is why I was going to skip tonight's entry.

ONE YEAR. Rock.

Lucy loves you |