Dec. 31 [Edited version]

I haven't made any New Year's resolutions, folks. I've made one resolution, but it's more of a rest-of-my-life thing, and I made it about 3 weeks ago. It is, "I am never getting married." This is not a cry of despair, folks; this is a conscious decision spurred on by observation of husbands and wives of my acquaintance, these observations leading to the mental remark, "I am neverthef*** getting married." It is quite possible that I will change my mind at some point, but for the moment, Hell No.
So instead of listing off a lot of New Year's Resolutions that I would, as with last year's, break from the get-go, I am going to type up a list of things I fantasize about.
Here goes:
1) Getting in a car (one that runs well) and driving away, not to return for months and months. As it is winter right now, I would first explore the warmer regions of this great continent, stopping at such places as Salt Lake City and some of the farther-out cities of Utah; Tombstone, AZ; the Carlsbad Caverns; and let's not forget a stay at the Amargosa Opera House and Hotel near Death Valley. Once warmer weather set in, I would head northeast to see New England, the countryside of New York, do a little hiking in the Adirondacks, and cross the line again to visit Gaspe, Quebec, and all the northeastern provinces. This fantasy also involves the possession of sufficient funds for such a jaunt.
2) [Bitter rant deleted]
3) Having my very own cozy little house where I can sleep and read and play music and cook whatever I want to and People Will Leave Me Alone.
4) Curing my 14-year-old brother of babytalk. That is, making him change from "Dis is what faver said about de fing wif de cafflicks" to This is what Father said..." You get the idea. Gosh it's annoying. You're fourteen, for f***'s sake!!!
5) [Bitter rant deleted]
6) Not being such a morose b****. Instead, having a sunny (but not vapid, folks, vapid is right out) disposition, an increase in personal practice of virtue of charity, a job I like, losing the potty mouth, and having enough money to have my own car, make my student loan payments, move out of the house, and occasionally buy a pair of shoes from a store that is not called PayLess.
7) World Peace.

Alrighty. Mom is summoning me to go watch little bro and Dad play chess. We are having a rocking NY's celebration tonight, I can tell you...

Will probably delete this tomorrow.
Good night!

Another Craigslist Gem: New Year's Resolution

new year's resolutions for the single straight male diner - m4w - 42
Reply to: anon-119961951@craigslist.orgDate: Thu Dec 22 11:35:30 2005Hi. I'm a middle-aged guy who regularly comes into where you work and eats (or drinks coffee) alone. Usually I'll also be reading the paper or working on my computer. As you may have noticed, there are THOUSANDS of me out here. As you've also noticed, we all really want you to like us, because you're pretty and nice and (usually) younger than we are by at least a decade. More often than not, you're also good at your job, so we know intellectually that your niceness is probably more professional than personal. But on some level we desperately want to believe that there's something more going on, that you secretly find us fascinating and attractive and would love to get to know us better. Maybe you do. I'm a nice guy, I have all my hair, I listen to some of the same bands you do, and it's not completely absurd to think that if we were thrown together by circumstance -- a sudden thunderstorm, say, or a terrorist attack -- we would find that we have much in common, and maybe even fall rapturously in love. Anything's possible. And. Yet. Because I respect you and like you, and because I respect and like myself, I have made the following New Year's resolutions, which I invite my fellow middle-aged single straight male diners to join me in observing: 1) I won't expect you to remember my name, my usual order, or my personal history. If you do, that's great, but I will always be aware that you see hundreds of people every day and that I am only one of them. If I see you outside of where you work, I won't assume that you recognize me. 2) I won't use your name except to greet you or get your attention, and I will never use it in conversation with other people to make it sound like I know you better than I do. 3) I won't tell you long stories or indulge in self-serving monologues while you have other customers or prepwork to attend to. 4) I will always tip at least 20 percent, and more if I'm taking up a whole four-top during a rush. 5) I will not make any comments, however complimentary, about your body or your face. I will allow myself to compliment you on beautiful or unusual jewelry or tattoos, or on your hair IF I'm a regular and you have recently changed it in a particularly noticeable way. If I have questions or comments about what's on your T-shirt, I will address them to you while looking directly into your eyes. Having established what's on the shirt, I will not let my gaze linger on it further. 6) I will NEVER, EVER ask you out while you're working. I assume that if you're really interested in me, you'll figure out a way to let me know. But I can leave and you can't, so as far as I'm concerned, you've got the ball. 7) I won't bring you gifts unless we have together clearly created a context for this through many previous conversations, and even then the gift will not be embarrassingly valuable. (E.g., I might bring you a snowglobe from Branson, Missouri, if Branson has become a running joke between us over the course of several weeks or months.) 8) If I do bring you such a gift, I will not read acceptance of said gift as proof that you are harboring deeper feelings for me. 9) I will ask you how you're doing and I will listen to the answer. I will never ask, "Are you in a bad mood?" 10) I won't sit over my third coffee/beer/flan and make sad eyes at you while you're trying to work. 11) I will reserve the right to treasure, deep in the darkest recesses of my ravaged heart, the incandescent possibility that someday we will share a sleeping car on the Orient Express as part of our yearlong trip around the world. But I will never inflict this dazzling vision on you without explicit permission. It's the least I can do for you. You rock. So, guys: Are you with me? Let's make 2006 the best year for interactions between cute waitresses and single straight middle-aged dudes EVER! Full of eggs and wist, A Regular
this is in or around the counter at magnolia, but really anywhere
no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

R.I.P. 1989 - 2005

I would like to ask for a moment of silence, please, in memory of Stangster the Ghettobile, who has passed on. A difficult friend s/he was, but my friend all the same, one whom I loved in spite of his/her faults and foibles, in spite of faded paint and jimmied locks, in spite of those unfortunate breakdowns on the 405 in rush-hour traffic, in spite of oil stains on driveways, in spite of flat tires, in spite of - or rather because of - being by far the ugliest car in the law firm's parking lot, and most other parking lots, for that matter. Stangster was a very special car, was my first car, and, to date, my only car. His/her life ended this past Thanksgiving with a sudden and no doubt exhilarating plunge off a cliff along a scenic California highway, a plunge in which Stangster gave his/her life in protection of the five passengers, all of whom survived without injury.
Stangster - thank you. Wish I could have been there for you, buddy. We had our good times and our bad times, but I will always remember you fondly.
Sincerely,
Mel.

The Lord Will Provide

I went to confession this morning and, after listing off all the usual offences, finally admitted to the old priest that my prayer life went the way of horse-drawn carriages this past June and hadn't come back. That all I do now is go to Sunday Mass, I don't pray, I don't want to pray, and I think I'm mad at God. He muttered something about the importance of regular morning and evening prayer then suddenly sprang up from his chair, dashed out of the room, and returned a minute later with a red vinyl-bound copy of the Liturgy of the Hours. For me. To use. To keep. We talked a little longer, then he named my penance, gave me absolution, and sent me on my shriven way.
In the quiet of the chapel I knelt to say the prescribed Our Father and Hail Mary, and then, since there's no time like the present, I opened the Hours and began to read. Saturday, Week II, Morning Prayer:
Let us listen to the voice of God; let us enter into His rest...
God, come to my assistance...
Lord, guide our feet into the way of peace.
I felt something then, while I sat reading in the chapel. Something I hadn't felt in what seems a very, very long time. Something I'd missed terribly but not been able to pinpoint until that moment.
Peace.

More Photos

I can't help myself. This snow thing is just so damn cool...

Neighbours' picturesque pond.

The reason I couldn't go to "Accessing the Hidden Job Market" this morning - the front of that thing's hanging over the creek, the back end's stuck in sombody's field, and ours is dead-end street. They towed it two hours later.

Tree by neighbours' picturesque pond.

Cottonwood branches seen from below.

Morning sun over our property.

Beauty

It snowed again today, making the view from the computer-room window so pretty I had to run out there with the camera when I noticed it ten minutes ago. These photos are of some branches on our tulip tree, taken from the underside:



Nice, eh?