A Random, Disjointed Post About the New Year (Not Really)

I slept through New Year's Eve. Having stayed up with my sick boy the night before, I was too exhausted for mayhem and revelry, and was stone cold out by 9:00 p.m. I do vaguely recall honking horns and screeching in the streets a few hours later, but it's pretty much a blur.

Today, I can feel the flu creeping in to my own body, and I know by tomorrow, I'll be flat on my back, watching "House Hunters" until I want to throw stuff at the television and shout, "Why do you NEED a 5,000-square-foot home?"

Since I was a teenager, I've viewed the new year as a holy time, a time for reflection and recommitting to dormant dreams and abandoned yearnings. But I haven't really had the time to reflect or recommit in years. My promise to myself to take a week-long vacation after Christmas to spend time with Polly and Jack and remember who I am and what I still want to do on this earth was an EPIC FAIL. I've been working, working, working.

I need a week off. It's looking like I may get one in April. Maybe.

I know 2011 will be my best year yet. I feel it in my bones. But I also know that, if I'm not careful, I will lose precious moments with myself, and with my family.

Lots to think about. I plan to do a real New Year's post, but first I have to finish writing a book for a client.