Utter nutter

That pretty much sums up my year, dearest denizens. It's been a real roller coaster one, and I'm not talking about the junior variety. It's been more like a monster of a complete-circuit ride where the ups had me going "Made it, Ma! Top of the world!" and the downs, well, the downs simply had me screaming for her.

And I have cried, sweetie darlings, more in one year than the last ten years combined. Of immense joy and happiness, of utter sorrow and misery. I would be lying if I told you I wasn't in dire need of a breather, a chance of maybe not thinking of anything much, of not feeling twelve ways at once. No such luck in the immediate future, but there is hope on the horizon.

I have some two hundred and thirty-four things I have to wrap up before X-mas, seventy-six and a half more to see to before the 16th of January, but that 16th... That's my doughnut, dearest denizens, and everything else... The hole? And what do we focus on, hmmm? Anybody? Ze doughnut, not ze hole, yes?

I have learned some interesting things about myself during the past thirty something years. For instance, in moments of measly meltdowns, colossal catastrophes and every degree of calamity in between, I act. I don't freeze, I don't panic, I get busy, and let me tell you, that has come handy many, many times. Need to get me to do something? Bring out the cattle prod, aggravate me some and see Dita run.

So keeping my sights on that doughnut, horrendously pissed off at the driver who ran into me on Monday, smashed my door in and gave me the gift of one more thing to take care of, seriously contemplating having the car painted neon pink and purchasing a mile-long feather boa, the driving gloves and some head accessory the Mad Hatter would be proud of to accompany said glowing, glaring automobile so that no idiot ever again can claim that "I didn't see you...", and, let's face it, what woman wants to be inconspicuous to the point of invisibility, it doesn't feel like 234 and 76 plus one things to do, sweetie darlings, it's a... Junior roller coaster ride?

Aren't I the Queen of Stupid Analogies... The three of you are giving up on me now, aren't you? Before you go, do swing by my Facebook profile for some final insults to your intelligence in the form of 25 things you probably didn't need or want to know about yours truly madly deeply but Adele Dubois asked and who am I to decline such a lovely lady. 

What happens on January 16th, you ask? If you're still there. If I didn't lose you when the feather boa came out. Or the whole business with the cattle prod. I usher my family out the door, leave winter apparel and worries alike behind, and board a flying machine to Salvador, Brazil, where my biggest headache will be the pool or the beach? A caipirinha or a diet Coke? Oh dear. Decisions, decisions.