Just a tiny little sappy pre-valentine's day post

Two weeks ago I was lying naked on my stomach on a really comfy bed in San Francisco with my eyes closed listening to the city sounds outside the window. It was late afternoon and warm in the room; I was tired and the cacophony of sirens, cars honking, people shouting and cable cars clanging was lulling me into a near-sleep state.

Suddenly ice cold water plunged over my neck and down my back, soaking both my ample torso and the sheets I was lying on. I sat straight up screaming "Damn it!" and looked crabbily at my roommate, a cute tall guy with big hands who had accompanied me to the city and who was suspiciously holding a large empty glass.

"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly with a sideways grin and a shrug of his shoulders. "I thought it would be sexy to dribble a bit of water on your back and lick it off...but it didn't quite work out that way."

And in one small dorky moment of humanity I began to think that happily ever after may not be quite as elusive as I'd thought.

A few goodbyes and a couple of hellos.

With a sigh of relief I said farewell to 2008 on December 31. The last few months of the year have been unbelievably difficult, but about three weeks ago I uncurled myself from a fetal position, got off the kitchen floor, took a deep breath and an even deeper swallow of tequila and decided to get on with it. I have never been so happy to begin a new year.

Saying goodbye to my life in the Bear River Valley has not been easy. It's the sort of place that creeps into your subconscious and won't let you go. It gets under your skin. Literally. For as I sit writing this, my inner thighs are covered in ugly red welts. They get like this every few days, and when I feel the familiar itching and burning, I know that the Bear River Valley and its state flower, the poison oak plant, have not unleashed me yet.

I've washed all my clothes, towels and sheets. I've scrubbed my shoes. I've cleaned everything I can possibly think of that might have come in contact with the nasty oil. I've even searched my yard here in Loleta for signs of the plant but have found nothing.

I've begun to think that the only answer is that we need closure - the valley and me. So here is my final goodbye to 2008, as well as a hopeful hello to '09. After all, as my Rio Dell grandma would say, "When God closes a door, he never quite closes it all the way, so the wind keeps blowing it open and gets dirt everywhere and you have to chase the chickens out with a broom."

Or something like that.


Goodbye bright blue skies of ABBA ranch.



Farewell, my sweet 2408. You're a punk, but I love you.



Adios, favorite rusty truck.



So long toilet graveyard.



I'll be seeing you, strapping ranch hand. No, really. I'll be seeing you.



Goodbye gorgeous rose of summer.



And goodbye to you, too, chilly rose of winter.



Farewell dry wit and dripping faucets.



See you later, tomato dreams.



It's time to move on, poison oak. Think of this as an opportunity for growth and just let go. You can do it.



And you, beautiful Bear River. I'll miss you the most. Even with the giardia.



Phew.

And so.....

Hello 2009.

Hello hope and happiness and light and laughter.

Hello Gilded Rose.



Hello, delicious cosmopolitan. I know you're oh-so-1998, but I don't care.



And hello drinking companion with big hands.



You know what they say. Big hands, big brain.

Or something like that.

Happy New Year!