And so begins another illustrious year of telling people to go screw themselves.

I stood there, and watched it happen.
It was 9am, the first day of the new year. Fresh start, open to every possibility and opportunity, I had a clean slate and could set the tone for 2014. Apparently, 2014 is going to be the year that I behave like a loudmouthed busybody. (I know what you are thinking: "Which is different from other years how, exactly?" And to that I say "Screw you".)
AS I WAS SAYING. I was flying back to my beloved island home, excited about all of the plans I had made for the coming year.
And then, as I wrestled my way down the aisle with a small suitcase, a backpack, and Lucy's new guitar, gently directing her to the correct seat as she walked hesitantly ahead of me, I looked up and watched 2 young men, on their way to the back row of the section, stop and unload their enormous, not possibly within the size limitations carry-on bags into the my overhead bin, right above our seats.
This is a pet peeve of mine. Overhead space is a precious commodity on an overseas flight, and having someone commandeer the already minimal storage space reserved for the seats I had purchased, well, no.
"Hey guys, this is my row. We have reserved ALL of those seats, and we have kids, and our 4 carry ons to put up there. I hope there's enough space at your own seats, because I need the space above mine."
The entire section went quiet, whether in solidarity or disgust I have no idea. And frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. I glared, and they looked sheepish - but after glancing up at the bin they had just stuffed their baggage into, they quickly continued down the aisle, one of them muttering "The overhead bins aren't assigned, they're for everyone, right?"
Sam and Max, looking bewildered at my outburst, made their way through the row to the other side of the plane with a few suitcases, and stowed them over there, then took their seats silently, avoiding eye contact. I wrestled the bags into the remaining overhead space, carefully sliding Lucy's new guitar in on top before I snapped the lid shut and gave those two jokers a pointed look over my shoulder as I took my seat.
And there I sat as the warm shame of embarrassment stretched up from my tense shoulders, across my jaw and ended with my ears burning red as I buckled up and reached for a magazine. Eventually I was going to have to stand up and go to the bathroom, and there was a good chance I was going to make eye contact with them. Or worse, get stuck outside the bathroom together. I shuddered, feeling instantly regretful. This was going to be an awesome 6 hours, I could tell.
in retrospect, perhaps scolding people should be saved for the arrivals area - and I have no idea what came over me in that moment. But it happened so easily, with not even a moment of consideration, that I do believe it is a sign of things to come. And for that, I apologize in advance. It will no doubt be one of the very few apologies I hand out this year, so savor it.
And do fasten your seatbelt.

The Kindness and The Free Turkey

I am home. Feet firmly planted back on my beloved lava, but the dream-like memories still floating around my head lazily. Or maybe that's the pre-flight Xanax coursing through my bloodstream.

This week has been amazing on so many levels. To start with, Christmas doesn't suck anymore - which is huge, and really who the hell saw that coming? Not me. We had an entirely pleasant day from start to finish. Weather was lovely, food was delicious, and for the first time in 13 years we spent Christmas with the cousins we grew up celebrating Christmas with. As I dressed my daughter in her red velvet dress and white stockings and shiny black shoes, I experienced a wave of deja vu that would have brought me to my knees if I hadn't already been there.

We careened from one festive family gathering to another, interspersed with a day of skiing here, an evening of ice skating there, a trip to the museum one afternoon, a day at Disneyland to round out the trip..... each a page out of my childhood come to life for my own children, albeit in a different time and place. And then we had to head back to San Diego to catch our flight home. And that is when our story of Christmas gets tied up with a neat little bow. You know how I love a happy ending.

Our week was made possible by the generosity of others. Each night we lay our heads on pillows provided by family and friends, in homes whose doors were opened to us widely and with plenty of holiday cheer. Each day brought another meal prepared with love and shared with joy and laughter. We drove from place to place in a car loaned to us by a couple who have only had the opportunity to spend any significant amount of time with us on one other occasion. And although they do not know us well, they offered us the use of their car and warm beds to sleep in, without hesitation.

I wanted to give them something in thanks before we flew home, but I didn't want to give them something just for the sake of giving a gift. I wanted it to be the perfect gift. This was a challenge, considering that I had never seen their home, and didn't even know their legal names. But that didn't matter......I wanted it to express our gratitude and also to show them that we had given it some thought first, and I was stumped. Gift cards seemed too impersonal for people who had been so kind and trusting. A gift for the home was hard to decide on when we hadn't spent much time there. Gifts of food were impractical, gifts of clothes were inappropriate. So I decided to start at the beginning, to try to express my thanks in writing.

A card.

But first, we needed to get some snacks for the airplane.

We walked slowly through Trader Joe's, trying not to buy anything too heavy or bulky. Trying not to spend too much money after a week of big experiences with price tags to match. We had already decided to stop by Costco for a pizza to bake at dinnertime, so all we needed were a few small things:
Some crackers. A package of berries. A few protein bars. A bottle of sparkling grape juice for New Year's toasting over our pizza later. We chose carefully, put a few things back, discussing and debating and reconsidering, and then made our way to the registers. As I waited for my total, a thank you card caught my eye. I reached out and plucked it from the rack, handing it to the cashier.
"This too?"
"Yes, please."
He scanned it and his eyes widened. He turned to the woman bagging the groceries next to him.
"Here," he said. "Look at this."
She peered over his shoulder as he stood with the card still in his hand and pressed a button. And then they hooted and cheered and high-fived before ringing the bell over my head. Startled, I froze, looking back and forth between them wildly.
"YOU WON!" They crowed. "I knew it! I knew we would get the next winner!" The cashier was ecstatic. His co-worker raced away through the crowd, gleeful and clapping.
"What?" I was bewildered. "I won? I won what? What did I win?"
"You won a free turkey!" the cashier was jubilant.
"I won a WHAT?"
"A turkey! A free turkey!"
"A what? I'm sorry, I am so confused. I don't need a turkey. I don't want a turkey!"
"Would prefer a tofu turkey? Do you eat meat?"
"TOFU TURKEY?! Oh no, definitely not."
The woman who had been bagging groceries came racing back through the store, a package held aloft. "Congratulations!" she was thrilled for us, and I was still trying to catch up.
"But, I don't want a turkey!"
"Oh," she stopped short, confused. "Do you want a tofu turkey instead?"
"God no, absolutely not, it's just tha-"
"Congratulations!" the manager had arrived to punch in some secret turkey code at the register.
"Hang on. WHY ARE YOU GIVING ME A TURKEY?"
"You won!" he was genuinely happy for me. I was genuinely still completely in the dark.
"HOW did I win?"
"Your total was $20.14! It's our New Years promotion!"
"I knew you were going to hit it," the cashier leaned in to confide to me. "I saw the total and then you added that card, and I just knew that when I hit total again and the taxes were added, you would hit it!"
"I won a turkey because I bought the thank you card?"
"Yes!"
"Wow. That's uh...... wow."
Sam and the kids were standing at the end of the checkout lane, and now Sam stepped forward to accept the turkey that was still being offered. "Thank you," he said solemnly.
"Yes, right. Thank you!" I was trying to catch up. "Thank you so much. Really."
Everyone around us smiled as we made our way back to the car. I was still holding the card in one hand, and the winning receipt fluttered in the other. We would obviously not need to buy a pizza for dinner.

The moral of the story? Always remember to give thanks. And to be thankful in the moment.
2014, I get it. I am grateful. And I am ready for anything.

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday, but I was reminded of the most important part of the holiday in a Trader Joe's, of all places: Celebrate Thanksgiving every day.
And so, inspired by a free turkey and the spirit of the season that should really be celebrated all year, I want to begin 2014 by saying thank you. To you.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for being here. Thank you for being you.
Would you like some turkey?