Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jog.

So, it's been an interesting few days. I put everything I owned into a Penske truck and my cat and I are now in Kentucky once again. More on that later, though.

Bailey and I went to Mount Vernon, Washington's home, on Thursday. It is absolutely a must-see. If you get to DC and have a car with you, GO. It's 12 square miles of his life--he was proudest, it is said, of being a farmer, and Mount Vernon is a testament to that. He had a very precise 7-year crop rotation in order to care for the soil. He thought of new and crafty ways to do farm chores, in order to minimize the amount of time he (and yes, his slaves) spent outside in the cold months. You can tell he also loved the house, doing constant renovations and spending as much time as he had there. Which, admittedly, was not that much. But going to Mount Vernon you get a great sense of Washington the man.

Then Kerrie came, pregnant though she is, to help me move out. She said she had wanted to visit before I moved, and it was her last chance to do that. So, pregnant though she is, she agreed to lug my boxes and boxes full of crap into a Penske truck in exchange for fun times in DC.

I took her to the Air & Space Museum, "the world's most popular museum," mostly because she's in the Air Force and they have USAF planes and memorabilia in there, which I thought she would be interested in. Plus, it's the most visited museum in the world so I felt like if she's only going to go to a few, that one was worth seeing.

Boy, is that museum overwhelming. It's worth going to, yes, but it's wordswordswords everywhere. I mean, I know museums are for learning and putting images with facts and learning the facts based on what is in front of your face, and I think that's great, but one can only read so much. Plus, this place is huge, absurdly big, and every time you turn around you realize you missed an entire wing, and how is that possible? So it's hard to deal with all that.

So we went to what may be its polar opposite, the American History Museum, or "America's Attic." This is the place where Dorothy's ruby red slippers are housed next to Rocky's boxing gloves and Apollo Ohno's skates and Kermit the Frog. It's fun and requires little to no reading, and even less learning. I feel like I sound like a giant moron, but you should see that place, it's just. Words. And if you're spending over an hour looking at planes and spaceships and trying to take in information that is almost entirely new--well, I didn't prepare for it. I prepared more for like, "This is John Glenn's spaceship, the Friendship 7." And "Orville and Wibur Wright are from Ohio. Here is the plane they made." So I went to a museum much more like that: "Jim Henson made this puppet and named him Kermit. Isn't he cute?" Completely what I was looking for in a weekend that was already overwhelming.

We also went to the National Portrait Gallery, which I won't bore you with again, as I am virtually certain you all know how I feel about it. Kerrie and I also loved the courtyard. I wonder how much money they would charge for a wedding reception? It seems like the perfect place for that sort of thing but then again, it's the Smithsonian and they run entirely on donation, and it's a great space, and also, why am I thinking about this?

Kerrie also wanted to see some of the monuments, so we did that. I'll post photos here or on the Book as soon as I get my main computer set up. We did the main strip, seeing Washington, Lincoln, and WWII. Lincoln is just. It's really incredible. It was also MLK weekend, so the spot of his famous speech was marked with a wreath and placard.

Then I made one last trip to Ben's Chili Bowl, which gained fame in 08 when Obama made a stop there during his campaign. It's an incredible meal. If Bill Cosby says it's good, well. Also Wale and Lady Gaga did a music video outside there, which is funny to me, because it's, like, a giant hole in the wall. Whatever, it's incredible.

So then on Sunday Kerrie and I loaded up the Penske with everything (and everyone) I own, and drove the 10 hours to Northern Kentucky. And here I am. It's hard to explain how I feel about it, because I enormously relieved, and ready to not be stressed out about a number of things, mostly involving money. (We did find a subletter, and I like her quite a bit. I feel like I would be friends with her if I were staying, which is a good feeling when you're leaving your best friend with someone who is basically a stranger.) I am also ready to not live in a town where people often put themselves first in everything from the Metro escalator to the grocery line to work to traffic circles. It's sometimes absurd. JFK called it a city of "Southern efficiency and Northern Charm." Southern efficiency doesn't bother me. But I can't live there. It was a great place to be for six months, and I'm very glad that I did it, but I'm also very glad that I'm no longer doing it.

As for living in my mother's basement. Well, it could be worse, I guess, but it's just not where I wanted to be at this stage in my life. It's disappointing and frustrating and yes, a little humiliating. But I guess it happens to a lot of people. Right? Ugh, I need a job.

Just before I left, I was depressed and needed something to look forward to, so I (somewhat idiotically) booked a flight to LA to visit Dominic in early April.

http://www.bored.com/makecountdowns/show.php?id=194171 (I blame him for this, because he asked me how long until I land, and, ever one for accuracy, I linked him. Regardless, it's making me happy. Mission accomplished.)

I don't know what I'm going to do if I get a job before then, because, like, it's an 8 day trip. But I'll figure that out if/when it happens.

LeVar Burton

So, post Dr. Drew-induced frenzy, I sent the following Tweets:

It's just like back in the day when I had a crush on @levarburton & used to watch Star Trek with my sis and not pay attn except to Geordi

I remember the 1st time I saw him and was like, "omg @levarburton" and "why is he wearing that thing?" and Kate goes "HES BLIND YOU IDIOT."

I guess as far as first crushes go, they don't get much better than @levarburton

Which I think were all relatively normal, appropriate things to say on Twitter, right?

I don't even remember what I was watching, or what made me thing of all those missed scenes of Star Trek. Or that one time in English class when I first admitted to God and everybody that LeVar had been my first crush.

...That was my sophomore year.

...Of college.

Anyway, I got the following direct message:

levarburton

Perhaps it was the high tech glasses that did it for you! I know how you like men in glasses...

This obviously means two things:

1. LeVar Burton and I were meant to be. Never question first-grade logic.

2. LEVAR BURTON READS MY TWEETS! (Or my blog. Either way...) LIFE=COMPLETE.

I'm pretty much a Twitter Star. I have, like, nearly 100 followers. Which makes me Tweet royalty, right?

National Portrait Gallery

Today I went to the National Portrait Gallery, continuing my tourist's trek across the city.

The Portrait Gallery is one of my favorite museums in the city, mostly because there are all these incredible people, and you just have to look at them and realize that they're constituted exactly the same way as you are, no better or worse, just the same. It's really something. I spent an hour and a half in there, all of which I spent in the presidents section. I can't help it. The first thing you see when you walk in is Gilbert's Washington, which in person is this huge, larger than life, incredible thing. And I just stared at it, standing in the middle of the museum, looking up at him, this man, constituted the same way I am, that stood there and stood there in order to get this huge, larger than life, incredible thing painted. And you think about it, about the history, about who he was, and it's just. It's breathtaking, really. I link you to that image, so you know what I'm talking about, but part of me wants to not do that, since it's nothing really, next to the portrait in person. But what art is, I guess.

And there's that picture of Lincoln. You know the one, where the negative cracked, and there's a line across the top of this head? It's haunting. And unlike Gilbert's Washington, which is an interpretation, a likeness (and one that was not regarded as his 'best' likeness, if 'best' means most accurate), this IS Lincoln. It's photography. And you look at him, and you just have to think about what he did, what he became.

And there's W. I love his portrait, I really do, because look at him. He's...he's just a guy. He could be your dad. All the other presidents chose to do very formal looks (Reagan comes to mind), but here he is, slouched over on a couch, unassuming, not even in a tie. It's just... I don't know, I really like it. It's really very "George" and not very "President Bush." And I like George. I think he seems funny and goofy and like someone I'd have a burger and beer with.

There's also a reel of some of the speeches from recent presidents, including President Bush, and that really ruins the spirit of his portrait. And also makes me really grateful, once again, for November 4, 2008.

Wrapping it Up and Moving On

Today's Plinky question is as follows:

What do you think you'll remember most from the last year?

List your favorite memories from the previous 12 months.

I like this question, mostly because I've been focusing a lot on what I hated about 2009, and that list is long, and is likely to be what I'll remember most. But I'll also remember that I moved here on my own, with no safety net. I went to Ohio State game watches and visited friends across the state of Virginia, put a tie on my cat and got up close and personal with the First Lady, went to two weddings and joined two Tri Delta alumnae organizations, watched terrible television with BC and got hooked to Dancing with the Stars, and even learned to cook a meatloaf. And that was just the four months that I was in DC.

I graduated from college, turned 22, started writing a book that I continue to pursue, sent query letters to book agents, said goodbye to Ohio and Ohio State. I watched my brother become a man, watched my sister become a Mrs., held my step-sister's newborn baby. I got "engaged" to my brother-in-law's brother. I lost two grandparents and went to my first two funerals (I guess these aren't my favorite memories. I digress.)

Here's to 2010 being better.

(God, it needs to be better.)

(In New Zealand, it's been 2010 for nine hours already. Which is comforting in an odd way. I am really ready for it to not be 2009 anymore. I guess this just draws light on the fact that this is sort of an arbitrary cutoff and new beginning. Whatever, here's to new things happening.)

New Year, New You! And other obnoxious cliches for December 31st

So I guess it's cliche to write resolutions, so I won't do that.

The main thing I want to say here is that DR. DREW DIRECT MESSAGED ME ON TWITTER.

I have had a giant crush on him for quite some time, and it doubled in size when he did that CelebRehab show where he trapped celebrity drug addicts in a house and then came and did therapy with them. It was life-changing, and also, as mentioned, made me fall in love with Dr. Drew. He's just plain attractive. In an old man sort of way.

d_cd_c

Ok! mag referred to @drdrew as "secretly sexy." This is not a secret. I've been saying it for ages. Though no glasses in the photo. Boo.

drdrew

And thank you for the kind remark. So keep the glasses?

d_cd_c

@drdrew oh yes, keep the glasses. And keep making good tv. I'm so much of a fan I can't even....I'm squealing a bit. Or like a lot.

drdrew

Thank you Chris...

I think this is the best thing that happened in 2009. I have a thing for men in glasses.

Also, in 2010, I'd like to travel, be able to run 2 miles, talk to the Air Force recruiter, find a job, and work on my depression. Yeah, I said I wouldn't, but what of it?

Happy New Year!

On Being a Tourist

The moving date has been set for January 18th. I am going to move in with momma ten days before my 23rd birthday. Woof.

But because it's been set, I feel more relaxed: I am less worried about money knowing that I won't be paying February's rent (provided I hear back from my potential subletter or find another one?).

Also, because I don't have a job, I plan to take advantage of the time to visit museums. Today I went to the Newseum, one of DC's more popular (and one of DC's few paid-entry) museums. It is fantastic, really worth seeing, even if you have to pay $20 (which I didn't--I got my ticket for $10 on Groupon). Probably my favorite exhibit was the far too small one on Tim Russert. They recreated his office in the NBC building and played clips from Meet the Press, interspersed with interviews from his colleagues, where they discussed his journalistic style and preparation, his love of the Buffalo Bills, his relationship with his family, and the et cetera. I got choked up, I have to say. That man meant a lot to me, to a lot of people, and, to me, exemplified what journalism should be. He asked challenging questions ("Is this a war of choice or a war of necessity?"--sorry I couldn't find the video, which made me appreciate the events of November 4, 2008 even more), but never impossible ones, and was never unfair or mean the way that journalists so often can be. He was also just genuinely likable. And I miss him.

The Newseum website has a slideshow of some of the artifacts found in Tim's office, and one of my favorites in context was the letter he wrote to David Gregory's son, Max, on Max's literal birthday in 2002:

Dear Max,

Welcome to the World!

Always respect your mom and dad.

Your Meet the Press internship awaits.

Your Friend,

Tim

They also have daily papers from around the country, and you can look up your hometown's front page, which is cool in a very touristy/no DC resident is truly native kind of way. They clearly know their audience and are good at pandering. Which I appreciate. Also they had the last edition of the Cincinnati Post blown up pretty big, along with a few others that have died in the past few months. Which was weird in a "my mom loved that paper" sort of way. (As a side note, I met a girl working at Honeybaked that graduated from college in 2005 with a degree in journalism whose professors said "newspapers will never go away," and I think the fact that she was selling hams with me speaks volumes about that how that mantra worked out.)

The Newseum, as you would expect, also had exhibits on events and the way they were covered. While it was interesting to read about the Unabomber's treatise that the Times and Post decided to print against the public's (and their own) judgment, I will be even more interested to come back in 20 years and read about how blogs and Twitter impact some other, also hugely important and probably horrific, event.

The Newseum is also known for its Pulitzer Prize-winning photography exhibit, which was jarring and comforting and shocking and amazing in a way that only photography can be. It's incredible, the things people are capable of doing with a lens. Some of those images will stay with me for years to come--Obama's speech in the rain a week before winning the election, women jumping from an Atlanta hotel fire, children riding a horse, Ruby shooting Oswald. Some of them I'd seen, of course, but still. A great display. I wish I had been able to go into the museum when no one else was there, so I could stay with each image as long as I wanted, study each one, truly appreciate it. But alas, DC is a tourist's city, and I was one of many trying to appreciate the photographs.

Because I'm too dumb for this city, I didn't bring my camera and thus don't have photos of any of this, including the 6th floor terrace that overlooks Penn Ave and the Capitol. Big Mistake.

Merry Christmas 2008

What a difference a year makes?

I don't know, it's been a really rough year, what with both my first and second funerals, and the mess that is my financial plan, and my lack of hope for future employment.

And I really just feel like I'm much closer to where I was a year ago than I'd like. I'm about to move home with my momma again, I'm working at the Honeybaked Ham again, I'm asking for money for Christmas again, I'm unable to buy gifts that I wanted to be able to buy for my family again. I feel pathetic, which is new.

I know it's not my fault and it's the economy and this is how everyone is and blah blah blah, but don't you understand that that is not what I want to hear right now? Everyone around me is all, "I'm not worried about you, you're really great," and it feels nice, it feels good, to hear that, but then it's also like, maybe you should be worried about me? Maybe you should have concerns about where I am in life, or what the hell I'm going to do next? Because I have those concerns. And it doesn't really matter what I'm capable of doing, because no one will look at my resume and why should they when there are people with real-world experience that are unemployed also? And I don't know anyone who can help me, which is what really matters, because my friends/people my age are also unemployed.

I don't know, I'm scared, and it's Christmas, and I feel very much like there's a lot of family asking me what I'm going to do next, and I feel like saying "pray real hard" isn't really an attractive answer. I'd really like to have an answer. Any answer, really, other than "well they're opening a Red Robin in Florence where I'm going to try to wait tables. I hope that this is a job I can actually get, but even that I'm holding my breath over."

In any case, it was a nice Christmas. Ender was his usual ridiculously cute self and everyone is having a grand time, reading, playing Sudoku, watching basketball, or otherwise ignoring one another. (We really do love one another, it's just that we are an unusually solitary family. That said, we have played several family games tonight, and it's been really wonderful.)

Pepsi, please.

And no, that was not a typo. Deal with it.

Does Southwest serve Pepsi?

Southwest Airlines hands out napkins on their flights that have maps of all the places in the US that they service, and I just love them. I like to think, as I fly to Baltimore or Louisville or wherever, about where I would fly if I could fly anywhere Southwest flies. I'd go to Austin, maybe, or Seattle. I've never been to Portland and Kate loves it; maybe I'd go visit Dominic in LA. Did you know they fly to NOLA? Pete Delkus, my favorite weatherman of all time, told me to stop by the station if I'm ever in Dallas.

I think of this only because I found a napkin from some long-forgotten flight in the bottom of my purse. I've never been to any of the above-mentioned cities, though I really would love to see all of them.

In other, sort of related in an 'I-really-want-to-travel' kind of way news, this news came out today:

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703581204574600322164130250.html

And I'm going to apply, re: my book. Only blog-style, as opposed to a full book. I think the WSJ made the article sound more like I need to be interested in building a soup kitchen, rather than making a statement about culture in America, which is what I actually want to do, and I think it's something that qualifies me. What I'm saying here, is, "we can't all build soup kitchens," and I think Pepsi's goal here is something that my book/blog fits in with. Or at least I'm going to attempt to prove that in some way.

In other news, tomorrow is my last day on the job. I'm freaking out about being unemployed, but am beginning to think seriously about moving home, and the more I think about it, the more it comforts me. I can apply for jobs anywhere, if I'm not paying rent anywhere. I can save money. I can, if I finally get an agent or Pepsi's money, just take off and write. And I want nothing more than to be able to just take off and write.

Nothing. More.

Tiger Woods

So, like.

I watch a lot of golf, love golfers, have always wanted to be a card-carrying member of the TOUR Wives Association.

So, like.

Obviously, people ask me about Tiger.

I still maintain that if you're going to marry an athlete, make sure it's a golfer, and part of the reason this is such big news, aside from the fact that it's Tiger Freaking Woods, Y'all is that golfers don't really make loud, public, embarrassing moves. And that this is kind of a huge embarrassing move. Not the point, the point is that everyone and their sister station is polling viewers with "Should Elin stay with Tiger?" and the choices are "No, cheating is unacceptable." "Yes, if she gets a new pre-nup agreement." "Et cetera."

No one seems to care that she possibly seriously injured him. I try to point out that if he were a woman, people would be outraged. She would be in jail, or we would at least be having this conversation. We would be talking about whether he should forgive her. But I understand that this is not the world we live, I just cannot understand the disconnect. I cannot understand it. I will not stand behind what he did, no, but I also cannot let people ignore the idea that this is a pretty heavy potential, either. It frustrates me to no end. (Also, I remember saying when they first got married I didn't think it would last. Not really a bet I wanted to win, but still.)

In other news, only 10 more days at my current job and then I am officially jobless. Put into motion: Operation TOUR Wives Association? (Top 50 on the money list? Need only apply/take me to dinner.)

Thanksgiving Eve, 1888

Happy Founder's Day, Tri Delta! This year, I went to two different Founder's Day dinners, and I have to say: I miss my old Nu Chapter. I mean, the Maryland active chapter invited everyone in the area and did the whole ceremony and it was lovely, and I really do enjoy meeting all the old alumnae. But there's something to your own chapter, your own traditions, your own home.

The DC alumnae, as I've mentioned, are all much younger, and had a much less formal affair. I've enjoyed getting to know them as well, as they are, in general, in my age range and have a similar life situation or have been in this life situation recently. It was also nice, but also not what I am used to.

In other news, Bailey and I had "the talk," as in, at what point do we give up on the dream? At what point do we say, "We're hemorrhaging money and wasting our time"? At what point do we decide that we won't find jobs before we run out of money? So we set a date to move out if we need to do so. I really hope we don't, I am terrified that moving out makes me a failure. Everyone continues to tell me that I am not a failure, that it's not my fault the economy sucks, and so on and so on, but... like, you know. That doesn't pay the bills. It's even hard to find a waitressing job in this town.

I still love the city though. It pretends to be southern, when, in fact, I would say it is quintessentially east coast. My Bostonian office mate tends to disagree and says people in D.C. are "laid-back," but she clearly has no idea. I'm so happy to be back in Kentucky. God, I miss this place. People are so helpful! And not crabby! And not pushy-shovey-in a rush! Gosh. Fantastic. But D.C. is great, too. Just not the same.

Also, yesterday, mom put my adorable 2 year old neice on the phone with me. Mom said things like, "Kyleigh, say 'I love you Aunt Chris!'" And there was repeating of that, among other things. Like "Come HOME, Aunt Chris!" Only, when Kyleigh says it, it comes out like "Ankis." Which is good enough for me. I'm stealing that baby, I swear. It's hard to be away from her and my other two nieces and to know that mom has them over regularly. I feel like I'm missing out on a lot here.

It's going to be weird this year, empty, almost. I lost two grandparents this year. Not that I ever saw Honey on a holiday, but still. Just a break from the way that I think about my family right around the same time everyone spends thinking about their families. And for the first time in my life, I drove all day Wednesday instead of being in place when and where I wanted. It was so convenient, even at its most inconvenient. My holiday routine was a well-oiled machine. This is a new holiday in a lot of ways, a lot of heartbreaking ways.

Mom and I went through some old Facebook photos and saw one that Kate tagged last Thanksgiving of all of us with Granddaddy sitting at the table, him facing out, with all of the rest of us actively engaged in conversation. It really was his time. He just couldn't do the things that he wanted to do, used to be capable of doing, depended on doing. He was frustrated with his body, and his body was not able to respond. It was his time. We also saw pictures of Kate's wedding, which he did not attend and Grandma did, and it really IS her time. Not for the same thing, but you get the point. Woman's in her prime.

This post has turned a lot into my growing pains. I feel I have a lot of those lately. But I have a lot to be grateful for.

1. The family, obviously. I feel this is a cop-out, so I'll break it down and make myself feel better. It's long, so maybe just skip to your section, you blog-skimmer, you.

a. Parents/Step-parent-I've been blessed, really, I don't know why, but somehow I got the perfect set of parents. I think Kate got it right when she said once, "if I had different parents, I would have ended up really messed up." Or something like that. What I'm saying is, genes only go so far, and we have great ones, but Tim just refilled the oil in my car and my dad understands my life situation in a way that makes me feel better about not having to explain, and my mother, well, my mother and I are the same person and I am glad of that because WHAT would I do if she didn't get me? It takes a lot to get me, you know?

b. All four of my grandparents. This is going to get emotional if I go on too long, but I've got a man as stubborn as an ox and his dedicated wife that could move a mountain if she put her mind to it, no lie, on one side, and a hilarious man and a woman that encouraged me in a lot of ways to do what I wanted, but to do it well on the other. As Kate said, "Chris, as I see it, we're nearly indestructible." I am sad to say that the number was cut in half this year, but grateful to have gotten to know all four in my lifetime and to have developed real relationships with them.

c. Siblings, duh. Kate has already come up like a zillion times in this entry, but like. You know? She reads this, so that's awkward. But she was there for everything, literally, and she and her husband, Thomas, who is also incredible, were lobbying me to come live with them in Chicago, and not a lot of siblings would allow that, let alone want that, let alone lobby for it. I lost my chance, but it still meant a lot to me that they were willing to offer themselves up in that way. And they got married this year, and they're so perfect and so perfectly wonderful. Kit is the sweetest little girl I know, I am constantly impressed with her. I feel like every time I see her she tells me something about herself off-handedly that is unexpected and amazing. And Eric, who I think is smarter than me, which maybe I should be less thankful for and more freaked out by? I don't know, but it's kind of cool. He's a really cool kid, has his ducks in a row, is confident. He has girls following him around like impish puppies. I was more impish puppy than Pied Piper myself at thirteen, so holler for old Eric. Not that I think Eric is a rat drowner OR a kidnapper. Even at thirteen.

d. Step-Siblings. I got two sisters and three nieces out of my mother's merger with Tim, and I feel like I couldn't possibly be luckier. I am stealing that baby, I tell you. They're both sweet and offer all kinds of opinions and advice about my plans and the boys I bring home and everything else, whether I ask for it or not (that last part goes for Kate, too).

d. Cousinsssss! At the funeral, Steve and I exchanged eulogies, and Steve was the first person to see it. How do you eulogize someone you've known your whole life? All I could think after was "I FORGOT TO PUT IN THE STORIES ABOUT HIM GRILLING OUT AND OMG GRANDADDY ROY STYLE BAKED POTATOES." But he was really excited about what I wrote. When I sat down, he held my hand and said, "See? I told you it was perfect." He's just a doll. And Anne, I've gotten to know her better since we live in the same city and everything. She cooks for me, and told me that she knew Jon wasn't right for me from the moment we met. And the robot jokes are hilarious. And EA and I are new blog/g-chat buddies, so despite being across the country, we're closer now than I think we've ever been, and I'm going out with her and Emily on Friday, which is also an opportunity to say that I think Emily may be the nicest most adorable person I've ever met, and also the most perfect candidate for a nurse I've ever met. And Mary L, who is brilliant (and knows it, but she's 17 and brilliant, I think I knew it then, too). And Alex, who is finally following in PROUD FAMILY TRADITION and becoming a Wildcat. And is also funny and has always been good looking, which is good because he's got to carry that family name down as the only male cousin. No pressure. I remember reading to him in the sun room, and now he's reading TEXTBOOKS. IN COLLEGE. God.

e. Aunts and Uncles. I got so many of those, I can't tell you. But I guess I gotta try, it's THANKSgiving! But Aunt Jane is the reason why I was able to go to BOTH funerals this fall, and literally would have been unable to attend Honey's at all if it weren't for her, and she's great. She's kooky as all hell, but in a good way, and her heart is in the right place. I feel like that sounds like, "oh we hate her but she has good intentions," which is NOT what I mean. She's fantastic and a sweetheart and her kookiness is just what makes Jane Jane. And Uncle Chunk, who invites me to dinner anytime he hears I might be in Kentucky, and is also part of the funeral-plane-ticket association (a not for profit founded in 2009), and he's sweet and GOD I love that man's accent, and I can hear it especially when he says 'Chrissy-Bug,' which only those two can do. Aunt Vickie & Uncle Jim are the couple I hope to be when I'm old and married off (no longer the spinster), seeing the world and being awesome in general. Denise, who runs the whole family, and the whole family would be run into the ground if it weren't for her. And Tom, who basically gives his life for my grandparents, which I know he doesn't do for me, but seriously I am eternally grateful that someone was there for Danda when he needed help, both with himself and with his wife. Ben, who is BAAAAAAAAACK! And too much fun. He's funny and thoughtful and a great father.

...I think I may just have to be thankful for my family for now. That went on for, like, ever. And it feels like it's midnight and I've just looked up and it is totally not socially acceptable to go to bed yet. Ughhhh. There's always next year to count my blessings, yeah? No, but seriously, I'm going to try to gather some more thoughts together tomorrow.