And for Christmas, I Give You...Myself

Oh, hello there! Been awhile, eh? It's been alarmingly close to eleven months, to be exact, and I have thought a lot about all the mayhem I could have manhandled myself into in the last eleven months, and all without your knowledge! If I were going to disappear for eleven months, I think I could have at least done you the courtesy of getting into some kind of media-worthy public shenanigans, possibly involving outrageous nudity and/or familial estrangement, so you could keep up with my antics in the tabloids. It seems to work well for Heidi Montag and her personal on-board shrine to silicone, at least.

In eleven months, I could have conceived, carried, birthed, named, and likely become at least somewhat attached to an entire human being. But I didn't.

In eleven months, I could have become a notorious pearl-wearing, cookie-baking, Richmond-area drug kingpin with legions of quivering, loyal addicts fueling my nefarious empire. Well, that's only really feasible if the drugs were chocolate-chip cookies. But I didn't.

In eleven months, I could have convinced Lawyer Boy to help me sell all our possessions, buy a ranch in Utah, convert to The Church of the Engorged Family Unit, and take a flock of sister-wives to sew my requisite ankle-length dresses and be my personal bitches. But I didn't.

(Just to make sure we're clear, Lawyer Boy and I did purchase a flock of sister-wives online to help with the laundry, but they haven't arrived yet. Product review forthcoming upon arrival.)

So, all tomfoolery and polygamagic aside, what was I up to during those excruciating eleven months in which you wept over my absence and swore angrily and vehemently never to love again? On the professional, practical end, I left my old job and started a new one. A new one that I'd been waiting to open up for the last few years, one that greatly decreases the amount of time I spend crying in my office and greatly increases the amount of time I spend smiling at people. I still work in immigration, but I'm still not telling you where, because I know that if I did, the boxes of chocolates and hand-tied bouquets of flowers you'd send constantly would just make my new coworkers jealous. And I soooooo want to be popular.

On the less reasonable, ragingly irresponsible end, Lawyer Boy and I have spent the last eleven months goofing off with our friends and generally acting like we didn't get the message that we're rapidly approaching adulthood. Or actively wallowing in it. Or desperately fleeing it. Either way, we've been having a blast going out on weeknights, throwing late-night dinner parties, and speaking in sillier and sillier voices when we imitate our cat.

But now, as 2010 draws to a close, I've recommitted to flinging my mental detritus at the interwebz and to doing laundry more than just once a month. I know, I know. Quite the Christmas present for both the interwebz in general, and Lawyer Boy in particular!