Yeah, hi. Over a month, ouch. I've been meaning to write, but I get distracted, and... well, yeah. Hi.
So... Christmas. Christmas was good. I took the bus to Vermont on the 23rd, and spent a few days happily loafing around my mom's house. We had a wee Christmas, just the two of us -- got some good presents, gave some good ones, worked a jigsaw puzzle, watched some hockey... it was nice. Jeff arrived in Vermont a few days after Christmas, and just in time for me to come down with the mystery illness I've had off and on for weeks. My brother and his fiancee spent New Year's with us -- we stayed up until after midnight on New Year's Eve, which is unheard of in our family -- usually I'm the only one up, chatting online and listening to Mom snore. This year, we played far too much Trivial Pursuit (Jeff, during one game, announced that Def Leppard has tragically lost a guitarist to psoriasis, hee!) and Uno, and drank so much wine that we could all barely walk by midnight. There were many, many giggle fits. We dashed out to Mom's porch at 8 o'clock for her town's first set of fireworks -- Jeff and I had to huddle together because I forgot to grab my coat -- and again for the second set at midnight. Then, we all collapsed into bed, and slept too late the next day. It was good to see Mike and Mari Ann. The best bit, and the one Mari Ann laughed at me the most for, was when Mike and I were out on the back porch, half-drunk and smoking cigarettes, arms around each others' shoulders for warmth, with him telling me how happy he is, and telling me how happy I look lately. It was cheesy, but sweet.
And happy... hell yeah. Jeff just left for the week, and I'm missing him so much already. I wasn't expecting this when we started dating. I'm pessimistic, you see, and was thinking he'd get to know me, and my neurosis, and run away as fast as he could. Maybe we'd be friends. But instead... wow. I can't really describe how this all makes me feel, without making you all gag. He makes me feel beautiful, even when I'm sick and in dirty pajamas and bedhead. He puts up with my bullshit (I tell you, he should just slap some duct tape over my mouth at bedtime, because that's when I start getting neurotic, and fretting over things that aren't even close to being problems. He has the patience of a saint, I think). He's just... he doesn't have any idea how wonderful he is, I think. So. Yeah. Happy. And hoping you are, too.