The list goes on.

1. Guilty pleasure: Keeping Up With the Kardashians.

2. January, February, and March are useless to me. And cold.

3. When my hair is long, I want it to be short. When it's short, I want it to be long again. And I can't.stand.it. when it's in the in-between stage. #shudder

4. I'm afraid of my bathroom scale right now. #doubleshudder

5. In a few months, I will face the annual battle and recurring question: to tan or not to tan?

6. I really shouldn't tan.

7. Valentine's Day is coming up. Do you have your doilies at the ready?

8. I love hotdogs.

9. I really shouldn't love hotdogs.

10. Whenever I say wikileaks, I have to concentrate not to say winkileaks, or wikilinks. Not that I say wikileaks that much. I'm just sayin'.

11. See? This is what kinds of posts you get in January. Boooo-rinnnng.

12. My apologies. Let's hope for a more stimulating February.

Loves

 1. The pies have it. {Williams-Sonoma}

2. One-piece of cake. {Anthropologie}

 3. Two toned kicks. {Gap}

4. The fluff factor. {House of Turquoise}

5. Statement studs. {Stella & Dot}

Better late?

Wait.

...

It's 2011?

What just happened?

Last I checked I was squaring up a rotund, homegrown pumpkin on my front stoop, craning my neck to see if the October issue of Martha was in my postman's hot little hand.

And there it came and there it went. And ThanksgivingChristmasandNewYear's rolled by right along with it.

I wouldn't say that 2010 was a bad year, either. It was fraught with good times and tough times, elation and despair, frustration and epiphany. January through August, which seem like eons ago, were spent grasping for a nursing job, whilst the summer was whiled away making-over the greater Southpoint area at the nations most user-friendly cosmetic store. [Would you like to sign up for two free issues of InStyle magazine?] And then came the job offer that was both impossible and incredible in the same breath. Scrubs, stethoscope, and a full tank of gas, I headed south for the winter. Well, three days a week at least.

One thing I've learned in my sage 24 years of life is that things rarely go as planned. Plans are for the birds. Plans are unmet expectations waiting to happen. Disappointment in the flesh. Do I sound jaded? I don't mean to be. I'm declaring the folly of plans, not the futility of hope, mind you. Hopes are altogether different than plans. Hopes are born of God, plans are ferreted out my me, myself, and I. To hope is to trust. To plan is to control. And to contrive to control is to cater to that niggling little part of me that doesn't hope, trust, or persevere. To give over to the bully who mutters in a huff, "if you want it done right, do it yourself!" is to deny the sovereignty of my Maker. Do I really think I know better? Sheesh.

And so 2011, I relinquish my resolutions, my plans, my deadlines.

But I will keep tight hold of Hope, tucked in my heart and held by a string.

Scraaaaappy New Year, e'er'body!

Here's the shakedown of our Christmas and New Year's goings on. Not really, it's just some photos. So, it's more like a mini shakedown.

PW's French Onion Soup for Andrew's and my Christmas dinner. Sacré bleu, is all I have to say about that.

Presents under the Christmas tree. Yippy skippy!

Now, I can't take the credit for this idear, because as you might've guessed it's from the January issue of Martha Stewart Living. It's obviously very easy and it's a nice way to let your tree live on for a few weeks into January without having to feel like a lazy bones for having the full regalia of Christmas decorations up until Valentine's Day.

A bunch of tulips, a coupla carnations, some branches from the ol' Fraser fur and you've got yourself a soothing, simple January bouquet. I threw in the snowflake ornament just for kicks. And because it was still attached to the branch I cut off.

For auld lang syne!

Happy New Year, 

MaryGene