new year mash-up. part 1.

To begin...
I want to start with part of a post I made in August 2010:

2012... please hurry up.  Scratch that.  I don't want to be two years older and who-knows-where just yet.  How about this: science... please hurry up and invent a time machine so I can go ahead to 2012, buy the book, then bring it back to 2010 and read it.  There. Much better. 

So hey-- it's 2012. Whaddayaknow. Just looking at my blog, one might actually wonder if I did indeed end up getting my hands on a time machine. Although use of a time machine would have been rather nice for some parts of 2011... and would have been a nice excuse for the lapse of time between posts... alas, this was not the case. Poor 2011. It didn't even get one measly post.

So I've decided to pick out some of the highlights of 2011 to "catch-up on 2011" over the next few days. Addressing my fears of being "who-knows-where" in 2012... well, my work situation is exactly the same... and my living situation is completely different. All to be elaborated upon at a later date(s).  I'm gonna go with good old-fashioned chronological order on this task.

To recall...
January 2011
I turned 26. Two days later, Steven turned 24. Big whoop, right? Although, I'm a little jealous that he will pretty much always be one stage behind me within each age bracket.  While I am currently entering my "late-twenties," he is barely scratching the surface of his "mid-twenties." I surmise this "little" jealousy will only grow more pronounced in my 30s, 40s, 50s... and after 60 hits (God-willing I make it that far), well, I think it's probable that I will finally just stop caring.  Let's pause and have a moment of silence for 26. Just as it is finally getting the recognition due to it, 27 follows closely at its heels, preparing to take its place. Sneaky 27.

February 2011
I guess it's best to get the most painful month of 2011 over with... just rip it off like a band-aide,  hiss at the sting, then be grateful that the wound is healing pretty nicely, albeit slowly.

On February 14, good old Valentine's Day, I had pulled off the works when it comes to a home-cooked meal.  My first attempt at cooking steak was a tremendous success... and said steak was accompanied by roasted potatoes and asparagus. And the dessert... the dessert. Sweets are always what I consider to be my specialty, if I can even rightfully claim any kind of "specialty" within the culinary realm. I had managed to make these perfectly crisp pastry cups dusted with cinnamon and sugar... filled with banana ice cream.. and topped with chocolate shavings and chocolate drizzle. It was almost too pretty to eat. Almost. A pretty swell spread, if I do say so myself... candles, flowers, a pleasantly surprised and proud-of-his-wife husband walking through the door after a hard day's work... and I don't think I shall ever pull of such a V-Day dinner again. Not to sound dramatic, but I think Valentine's Day will henceforth be tinged with sadness for me. Luckily, this falls under one of those commercial holidays that Steven won't terribly miss celebrating to its fullest capacity (actually, I suppose we never really do go "all out" on V-Day).  After the 2011 dinner, the remainder of the night was a blur that fell under the shadow of a tearful phone call from my mother, who explained that my Aunt Cathy, my mom's only sister and best friend, had been struck and instantly killed by a car while walking along a road near her home. I will leave out all the sad (and, well, to put it bluntly, more private) details and events of the days that followed.  It was a devastating shock and a terrible loss to our family. Even today, it is so unreal to me. It's one of those events that you hear about the news.. always happening to someone else... but there's no way it could possibly ever happen to you or someone you love. Until it does. And it did. And it is just so... sad.

My Aunt Cathy passed away, but in her wake she blessed the the world with two amazing young men, her sons, and I am so proud to even be related to people of such high caliber.  She and her husband raised them well.  They are strong. They are kind. They will love her forever and tell their children stories about her. She will not easily be forgotten.

Below are two pictures that I find to be so very beautiful. The first is a group photo that I randomly came across but completely love. It's so happy... and in such a tragic circumstance, it's nice to see the happy that was there and still is there, only a little different now. The second is a picture of the memorial cross my uncle and their boys made together. It's still there. Sitting quietly, but beautifully, beside that narrow stretch of lazy country road... stirring memories of a shy, quiet woman who loved infinitely.

To conclude...
Fast forward to today... Thursday evening, the first Thursday of 2012. Today I taught some of my kids about Chapter 9 of The Great Gatsby.  One of them blurted out, "This is the saddest chapter." I agreed. Nick comes to the realization that he is the only one interested in finding Gatsby a peaceful rest... and Gatsby's father mourns the loss of the son he obviously did not know at all.  Among other things.

I taught some of my kids about a forgotten door and forgetting yourself, literally and figuratively.  One student begged me to re-read Ch. 1 because the substitute read too fast yesterday.  "Sorry," I said, "welcome to the end of the semester" (in other words, no time).  He got over it.

Some of my kids told me about their fears. Reluctantly at first, until I told them some of mine. I told them how I will not step one foot into a body of water of which I cannot see the bottom.  Lakes? Rivers? Oceans? All of the above. I told them I rudely shove my husband (or any other unfortunate soul who happens to be accompanying me at the moment) between myself and a bee or wasp that comes within a 10-foot radius of me.  And, finally, they told me they feared spiders, spiders, and more spiders. But also heights. And drowning. And at least 4 of them honestly admitted that their biggest fear was their mothers. Apparently Chinese mothers can be pretty terrifying? Interesting.

I sigh in relief as I remember oceans separate me from these women.
Parent-teacher conferences stand protected. For now.



P.S. Just minutes ago, my husband was laying on the carpet, quoting dialogue from Return of the Jedi, waiting patiently for me to finish this blog. This one-person conversation quickly petered out to silence, and has officially been replaced by snores. Poor, cute, tired husband.