Welcome 2010!

I recently heard a somewhat heated debate over what we should call this new year. Should we say "two thousand ten" or should we say "twenty ten"? My initial response was, "Who cares?!?" If you want to say "two thousand ten," say it. If you want to say "twenty ten," say it. Really, aren't there more important issues over which to argue? However, as I began to type the title to this blog post, the voice in my head said, "Welcome......." and I wasn't sure how to proceed. In the end, I wrote "2010" and pronounced it "two thousand ten." So there's my decision in case you too were debating this monumental issue. I have now solved this problem for you and for the world.

New Year's Eve was quiet here. It usually is. To be truthful, it's not the best holiday for me. I generally feel isolated, lonely, and anxious. It's like time is getting away from me, and I can't control it. I tend to think unproductive thoughts like, "What if the best of life is already behind me?" or "Is there really anything to look forward to in a new year?" Stuff like that. This year was no different, so around 10:30 p.m., I decided to surrender to sleep, putting all the sad thoughts to rest. I'm sure the ball dropped in Times Square precisely at midnight, but I was not awake to witness that personally.

New Year's Day, however, was much better. Gerald and I went to Red Lodge, a small resort ski town about an hour west (well, I think it's west, but then I am directionally-challenged, so I can't be certain) of Billings. We were there back in May, and I wrote a more detailed blog post then. If you'd like to read it, go back to the May 2009 post entitled "Imagine." This weekend was much the same except we replaced hiking with cross-country skiing. Now, I should tell you that I'm not a huge fan of cross-country skiing. I even find it a bit deceptive to use the word "skiing" to describe it. It's really just walking with skis on. Seriously, all you do is put skis on your feet and walk on snow. It doesn't in a million years compare to the incredible rush, the speed, or the thrill of downhill. Still, this past Saturday was about the perfect day to cross country ski. It was warm, sunny, and beautiful. Gerald said it was around 34 degrees, which is very warm for Montana in January, and it felt like 70. I kept removing layers of clothing until I had on only a light jacket, with no hat or gloves even! There were several prepared trails on which to ski, and we spent about two hours exploring them. It was quite lovely, actually, and a good workout as well. I felt justified in forgoing P90X for the day.

Before returning to reality, we spent part of Saturday evening back in Billings looking at possible dresses for me to wear to Shulamith's wedding. Before she left the week prior, she and I had looked at probably 50 different black dresses, most of which I tried on, so I had several options to show Gerald. And yet, I'm still not sure. I don't think I've found the perfect dress. My friend Tom (not to be confused with my brother Tom, even though both their last names begin with "W") suggested that I find a "hot, little black dress." YES! That's exactly what I need. Only which one? There are so many. I keep telling myself that when I find it, I will know. It will scream out to me, "THIS IS THE DRESS!" Until then, I will keep looking. After all, I still have 38 days.

Happy 2010 (two thousand ten) to all!