It’s a Friday night over here and we are anxious for the doorbell to ring, announcing the arrival of tonight’s delight – Vietnamese pho with “rare, flank, brisket, balls, tendon, tripe”. Nothing like an assortment of cow parts to get the evening going. Things couldn’t be better around the Lyman parts. Buddy Josh is hanging out with the Internet. Husband’s at his DJ booth, head-bopping to new and old records. “Just a little lovin’, early in the morning, just a little lovin’, early in the day…” reminds me of January 2006 when I was first introduced to his monkey mixing at a dark club. It has almost been three years to the day we married. Then again, I pretty much felt like we were married the day we met.
But enough cheese factor. The end of last year and start of this year are waiting to be summed up. We were chock-full of resolutions at the end of 2008. On the very last day of the year, we hiked to a little bay on the coast of Kona famous for sun-bathing tortoises, heading for a particularly inspiring tree we like to call the Planning Tree. Under its winding branches, we revisited the ups and downs, high-fives and do-overs of 2008 and got excited about the year to come. 2009 will be all about writing, writing, and writing. Getting healthier. Being stoked about each moment of every day. Taking it easy on the things that don’t matter and really going for the things that do. For the first time I feel like my life is my own. No one looking over my shoulder or demanding my attention. No more pushing myself down a track that I’ve been following since I was five.
Ah, five. What a magical year. My birthday present was piano lessons with an amazing teacher who not only saved me from the embarrassment of being Jan Chan, but also taught me how to spell. Newly arrived in a foreign country and thousands of miles away from relatives, my brother and I were blessed to have found much more than a piano teacher. Ms. Davison was more like a stern yet gentle grandmother. As it often goes in a family of hard-working immigrants, by five I was already fully apprised of the expectations to come. A’s were a given; A+’s were better. College of course, but not just any college. The very university that Ms. Davison herself attended circa 1933 was my final destination.
And there I went, circa 1995 after twelve years of mad studies. Then four years of not-so-mad studies; it was college after all. Then slaved and worked, worked and slaved in a soul-sucking, spine-buckling field for what seemed like forever. Then last September, I finally got around to quitting my job. It only took a few months for my shoulders to lose the up-around-the-ears look that I've had for as long as I can remember. I wake up every morning thankful for everything and stoked about the day. I practice unclenching my fists and find it easier and easier to let it all go.
So here’s to a brand new 2009: a year of Barack, letting go, and living the dream for the unforeseeable future. And here's to foot-stomping happy times in the days and months to come for every one of you out there. Except for you evil bastards - no foot-stomping times for you.
