ps. I got facebook.com/killerspice I’m SOL if my derby name is rejected. ;)

I have given in to the ridiculously overdone 365 photo project thing. Maybe I should change it up. 1000 over 365, where the rules would be at least 1 per day for 365, but in the end there needs to be 1000 photos, so really I’d need to be putting out at least 3-4 per day. I shall now google to make sure I didn’t just rip off someone else’s idea and try to pass it off as my own.

It’s a go. I don’t know that I haven’t stolen it from someone, but I’m going to give it a try. Resolution #1 of the year: Daily photos equaling 1000. Shouldn’t be so hard considering the number of pictures I take without resolutions, but the daily rule is going to hit hard. Just like holidailies, except for an entire year. And we all know how great I’ve been with holidailies…

For those of you who are new to the “was 365, now 1000 photos” thing, I’m posting the pictures to flickr. I may or may not post here, but for sure pics will be on flickr, so subscribe to the rss feed there. Or bookmark if you’re still in 1998.

I got to go home twice last month. Neither time was really for vacation, but it’s always nice to see my family. This picture was taken just before we left for the aiport. I can still hear the noise in that room as we sat around and talked until the very last minute possible. My family is loud and wonderful.

It’s hard to explain, that thing, you know, with living so far from where you grew up. It’s a feeling that I can’t put my finger on, or nail with words. It’s like a smell. You know that smell of happiness? That smell that makes your tummy warm and your cheeks rosy? Home has that comfortable smell. But it’s not all roses and perfection, and while I love home and my family and that happy smell, I love this little life that I’m building out here, where there are new things that are beginning to feel more like home everyday.

I don’t usually read other people’s posts of what they’re listening to. How often do you really have the same musical taste as some random online journaller? Almost never for me. But for whatever reason tonight google reader told me that pamie is listening to Ingrid Michaelson’s The Way I Am. And so I clicked, not realizing that I already own and love the song.

The version I have is from this year’s KMTT Mountain Music Lounge CD.

I’m circling around the point.

Somehow I’ve gotten so old that I have no idea what music videos are. Thank you to Pamie for reminding me why I used to love them. No thanks to MTV for taking the love away and replacing it with pure commercialism. And crap.

And while I’m whining about things, why oh why is there no KMTT equivalent in this city?

“Describe the top three scents or flavors that always evoke holidays for you.”

1. Christmas Tree.
2. Scotch tape.
3. Rice and Beans.

Last year we got a fake tree because I’m convinced that I’m allergic to EVERYTHING, including the crap that comes on the real trees, so I haven’t had the pleasure of smelling a real tree in awhile. The smell evokes Christmas memories, but I so don’t miss the watery, itchy eyes or the constant vacuuming and sweeping. Or remembering to water the damn thing, because that did me in so many times.

Little known fact: I love the smell of scotch tape and band aids. And the dentist office. No idea why.

Rice and Beans are a family holiday staple. Christmas was always at my house growing up, and that meant that all my cousins, aunts and uncles, from both sides of my family came over to hang out. We would sit around and eat and talk. And eat. Instead of drunken holiday meals we had fatty ones. The house would be fragrant with the smell of Christmas food from early in the morning, when my grandmother would start cooking. There have been lots of changes in my family this year – I don’t know what Christmas will smell like. I’m sure it will still feel like it always did: A house fully of happy times.

A couple of weeks ago we went to a tree trimming party. (The same one we went to last year where Jonah broke the glass ball in his mouth…) This time there were no medical emergencies, unless you want to count Alisha’s drunkenness, but I’m pretty sure the only medical attention she received that night was from her very qualified EMT husband.

A year ago I left my last job. I didn’t write about it very much at the time but looking back now I wish I had. I remember hating that place so much. I remember driving to work in tears, so upset that I had to endure another day of the Worst Workplace Ever. And then to top it all off I was asked to do unreasonable things. And when the camel’s back was finally broken and I made the decision to walk, I was ASKED TO LEAVE QUIETLY.

Quiet is the opposite of what I am, so when I was forced to walk out of that building without saying goodbye to my friends, my co-workers, the people who threw me the only baby shower my kid had because I knew NO ONE when I moved to this country, I was shocked.

There are so many things I would have done differently if I were to do it over again. I would have chosen a different department to work in. I suspect the entire company is not run the way that specific department is run. I would have gone to HR to resign, and not to my (former) manager, who has forever lost my respect, not that she gives a damn. I would have looked Really Hard for a different place to work when I came back from mat leave. There were indicators that this place wasn’t the happy home I was looking for but I chose to ignore them.

Why do we do that? Try to convince ourselves that things are really better than they are? If we buy into our circumstances does that just make bad ones more tolerable or is there scientific evidence that lemonade can be had?

A year ago I listened to my instinct and walked away from an awful situation. With no plan in place I quietly left.

Today things are good.

Erin Shea used to write about her socks too. And then she had that divorce. And somewhere in there she realized that she didn’t have to tell EVERYTHING to entertain her readers.

Heather Armstrong spends a lot of time writing about the dogs and her gorgeous “stuff”. Have we all noticed how she writes less about Jon?

Pamie is the funniest girl on earth and she has totally figured out the secret to telling just enough. That’s why they pay her. I wasn’t an early reader so I don’t know how her writing has changed since hitting the A list.

Dr. Scott, who is not A list at all, still tells way more than I know how to. Imagine coming across the personal journal of the guy who is looking after your sick parent in the hospital. Is it creepy to know that he’s ogling the goodies of asian women all day long? Step back for a moment and note today’s entry: How can you not love that his kids are playing chess. With Star Wars pieces. Everyone has their personal definition of balance.

Maybe the goal of this month of forced writing should be to find that balance? I think the conflict is between that inner voice that tells you that no one cares what color your socks are, and the fact that I read, with bated breath, EVERY DAY, each of the above authors to find out what color their socks are.

So here we are: back at Day 1 of holidailies. And here I am, 10:19 at night trying to get this entry in before it becomes midnight. Really, this is ahead of schedule for me – I usually post at the very end of the night before I go to bed, which becomes the very beginning of the next day… Do that enough days and skip a few here and there, and you have me *begging* jette yet again to let me stay in the portal. I wonder if she remembers repeat offenders like me.

I have eight years of entries. They aren’t complete. When I moved to using my actual name in the domain I deleted a lot. If you look at the frequency of entries you’ll notice that I don’t write as much as I used to. It turns out I’m rather obsessive.

I used to obsess about writing. Now I obsess about knitting and photos. Sometimes I obsess about Roller Derby. I’m hoping this year to obsess more about active things than about sitting on my ass things.

I am going to end this now with a final thought because overhearing a simple phone call has gotten me so riled up that my mood to share publicly on the internet has turned quickly into a strong desire to use bad words: Before you go intruding on other people’s personal lives why not take a second and think about whether it’s any of your damn business. (If it’s posted on the internet you’re safe, I’m totally not talking about you :).)

ps – how does one end a parenthetical statement with a smiley and have it NOT look confusing.
pps – WHY oh why do Canadians call them brackets? Square brackets? PARENTHESIS.

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Originally uploaded by jaimeandjim.

Jonah’s first Christmas Morning in which he is old enough to realize that the stuff under the tree is for him.

In other news, I’m back on track with my workouts. I’m not yet posting on the other site, but let it be known to the Intarweb that I have now done a hardcore cardio workout for the past three days. And today we went snowboarding. And then I went to the gym. And I did lower body strength, which will surely hurt two days from now.

I have an interview tomorrow. Happy thoughts.