Suddenly Single Journey

On the menu of life…

Thursday, December 24th, 2009

I’ll have a side of ‘I told you so’ hold the lecture.

Yeah, this year I have been chalking up learning experiences left and right.  I mean, which  learning experience do I pick from?  The divorce was finalized this year which means that maybe I’m not so good at marriage.  Nah.  It’s not that.  I’ll just look for someone I’m more suited to next time.  And then there was my failed relationship with Sam.  Did I say I’d look for someone I was more suited to next time?  I meant next next time.  Or from now on.  Or…well, we’ll see.

And then there was the whole renters morphing into squatters episode that marred the better part of my summer and the early part of my fall.  But by far, the best learning experience was the one that I had most recently, the one I was dealing with right up until yesterday.  The reason I was too distracted to post anything more than videos.  And apparently people noticed.  Okay, my mom noticed.  I’m not sure about the rest of the world.

Without going into a lot of gory details…because then it will be a huge spoiler for the made for TV movie my life has become…I went against my better judgment and gave out my address.  It seemed like a benign request from a blog fan who wanted to mail me a Christmas card.  And in my defense, it’s not like I just gave out my address all devil may care.  No, I contemplated and after a long drawn out discussion reluctantly relinquished my address.  (Stop it.  I can hear you.  I specifically said ‘hold the lecture.’  No one has been tougher on me than I have…maybe with the exception of Laura.  Love you, Laura!)

Anyway, the address was given out almost a month ago.  And then on Monday, I had a text from the fan that there was a package for me on my back patio.  *gasp*  Immediately, I felt utterly violated.  There were a lot of texts exchanged with friends, a few lectures, several emails and then I headed home, more than a little shaken…not stirred.  (See, Kimberly, I had to use that line somewhere!)  Oh, and Kimberly met me at the apartment because she didn’t want me to blow up alone.  (Sign of a true friend, right?)

No bomb, but a ton of chocolate.  That I will never touched.  Suffice it to say, I stayed at Kimberly’s Monday night, which prompted a realization that might have been funny if it were not so true.

me: I own a house.  I’m renting an apartment.  I have more real estate than half of Charlotte and somehow I’m still homeless!

My locks were changed Tuesday…because there was a key hidden outside (past tense…as in never again…nice learning curve, huh?)  And if I had no guarantee that it hadn’t been discovered and copied…well, new locks!  It cost me $25.  (And I didn’t think that checks would come in handy?  Ha!)  It seemed a small price to pay for my life.

Tuesday saw another flurry of emails and texts and I tried to measure the danger.  I mean should the alert be on yellow, red, what?  And I finally felt as though I had achieved a solution and safety.  (Again, I’m not going into the gory details.  How else will I get you to fork over the money for my exciting memoirs?  Everyone knows you don’t pay for the cow if you can get the milk for free.  And no, I don’t have a book deal, but dammit, I should!)

So, I’ve looked at the dilemmas I’ve faced.  Aside from the obvious commonality, which is me, they all point back to what some are now considering a character flaw.  I’m too trusting.  I’m too nice.  (Trust me, I’m not always too nice.)  My mother, the cynic to my optimist, wondered how I could possibly have trusted someone I barely knew.  And it points back to something J once said to me.

J: You think that everyone is like you, that everyone tells the truth and says what they mean and follows through.  People aren’t like that!

Talking to my mom yesterday had her pointing out to me that I’m 37.  (Because otherwise I wouldn’t know…)  And I guess when she says it like that, it means I’m supposed to be different by now, have outgrown some of the characteristics that make me inherently me.  But I don’t want to be cynical and jaded.  On the other hand, I don’t want to be naive and gullible either.  I guess I need to strive for a balance, somewhere between optimist and pessimist, but perkier than a realist.  Is there an optimalist?  Because I think that’s what I am.

See, I don’t want to face people warily, keep them always at arm’s length.  I know that not everyone tells the truth, which is different than House’s supposition that everyone lies.  I just believe that people have it in them to be better than they are, since I constantly strive to be better than I am.  So maybe an optimalist is one who looks for the best in others and gives the best he or she has.  I love making up words.  Eat that, Oxford English Dictionary.  One day…  (That’s a dream book Rachel and I aspire to own.  So if you want to drop that on my patio…call me!  Just kidding, Mom.  Man, she just can’t take a joke!)

And I don’t think there is anything wrong with being an optimalist.  I like being optimalistic.  It’s my beacon of hope.  I just need to learn to temper it, be smarter about it.  So, no, you can’t have my mailing address.  I’m getting a PO Box.  (You only think it stands for post office.  Right now, to me, it means something else.  It’s a reminder that I can’t just trust anyone to do the right thing, that people can’t be trusted to know they are crossing a line, that even though they may have had the best of intentions, it can be received badly.)  I’m learning, one painful sometimes frightening always disheartening experience at a time.

PS. Why this?  Why today…on Christmas Eve when I should be posting about sweet happy holiday stuff?  Gwen Bell Challenge 2009.  Enough said.

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Finally, another Gwen Bell 2009 Blog Challenge Post…

Monday, December 21st, 2009

Blogging is by far the biggest project I’ve ever involved myself in…after the whole marriage and parenting thing.  (And we all know how the marriage worked out.  As for the parenting, well, it’s still up in the air, but it’s looking good so far.)

Somehow, when I talked about starting the blog, I didn’t really see what it could be, never really envisioned what it has become.  And I still don’t know exactly where it’s going.  I guess that sounds bad, so let me explain.  See, yes, I wanted people to read it and enjoy it, come back, maybe tell some friends.  I figured I could count on my mom for some views.  (Thanks, Mom!)  And I knew that some of my friends would probably read it.  I guess I never really thought about becoming popular, about virtually befriending other bloggers, about making a difference in anyone’s life, or even how much of a difference I was making in my own.

Writing has always been my passion.  It has been the one talent that has never truly failed me.  Words are my friend.  So, for me to have an excuse to sit down and write every day is a blessing.  It helps me find focus in my life.  It helps me work through what’s going on in my life.  It has altered my relationship with family, for the better.  My mother and sister feel much closer to me now than ever before.  And for that, I am grateful.

On top of that, I have this built in support group that I truly appreciate.  There’s something about being able to put my life out there and have so many people respond so favorably.  Words of encouragement are offered when I need them, advice is offered (and it’s good!).  And this is all because I started publicly posting my life.

Now, I don’t share everything.  I can’t.  There are happenings that I’m a part of, but aren’t really mine to share.  There are things that are mine to share, but I keep them to myself because they involve other people that I don’t want to hurt.  And everyone is entitled to a little privacy, even public figures (*cough Tiger cough*) and figures who make their life public (like bloggers).

The funny thing is, my blog was found before I even intended for it to be made public.  (That’s how little I know about all this.)  So, on June 25th, 2009 I started writing pieces and hitting ‘publish.’  I figured I’d get a few posts out there, look established and tell my friends and family in July.  Only, by the end of June I had been found by 38 people.  Suddenly, it was a numbers game.  I started watching my numbers and my Alexa rankings.  It was so exciting.

I can’t say as I really did anything special to grow the blog.  I read other blogs and comment.  I enter contests because winning, even randomly, does something for my ego.  And I started to reach out to some of these other bloggers.  It has been fun.  And why would anyone want to devote this much time to something that isn’t fun?

Blogging isn’t for everyone.  I haven’t missed a day since I’ve started.  I’m proud of that.  Can that streak carry on indefinitely?  I doubt it.  But feeling a sense of responsibility to the blog has helped me through some rough times.  It pulled me from my funk over Sam.  It gave me hope when I was hopeless.  It gave me a forum to air my grief over all the challenges I’ve faced this year.  And there have been so many…like moving in with Sam, renting my house, evicting the squatters, finalizing the divorce, losing the house, losing Sam, losing hope, becoming homeless, finding an apartment, finding hope, finding myself and finding out the kids and I can make it on our own.  (Those are just the highlights.)

It’s been one hell of a year.  This has been one hell of an undertaking.  I want to continue to grow and change as a person, which should help me grow and improve as a blogger.  In fact, I don’t see an end in sight.  I know there are blogs that have stretched on for years, evolved with the blogger.  I’d like that.  And while I’m not worried about finding things to say, I secretly hope that I won’t always be a single mom on a journey or self-discovery and self-improvement.  (Of course, it’s not much of a secret if I keep telling everyone now is it?)

Keep watching.  I’m nowhere near through with this project.

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So, I clicked my heels together three times…

Wednesday, December 9th, 2009

Housing, having a place to live.  This is something that we tend to take for granted.  I learned my lesson.  And it’s a lesson I’m still learning.  Having a home is not a given and making a home can be more challenging than simply being surrounded by walls a few windows and a door.

See, I started this year in a house.  I have a really nice house in a really wonderful neighborhood.  It was my dream, a contemporary ranch with cathedral ceilings and huge windows, an open floor plan.  There are hardwoods in the main living area, ceramic tile in the bathrooms that I laid myself, and carpet in the bedrooms.  I had changed out all the old brass lighting fixtures with new brushed nickel.  Yes, me, all by myself.  I had selected and installed the hardware in the kitchen.  And I gutted and remodeled both bathrooms with very very little help.  I had primed and painted the bedrooms, venetian plastered the baths, poured my heart and soul into the place.

And once the ex moved out, last year, I had done everything I could to save it.  I searched for roommates and after eight months of effort found a woman with five kids who wanted to live with me in my 2400 square foot three bedroom home.  Right.  And a man who wanted to share my home, my car, and carpool my kids.  I declined.  And then he tried to date me.  I declined…again and again.  So no roommate, but I found a stalker.  Yay!  And I tried getting the loan modified to make it more affordable.  Others in the neighborhood had success with that.  Of course, they also had different mortgage companies and extenuating circumstances.  I wasn’t so lucky.

So, I explained to Sam that I was going to have to move out of the house, and try to rent it in order to save it.  (In my heart, I’m convinced I won’t always be this financially strapped.)  And he needed roommates since his others had moved out.  And we were dating for over a year…mostly.  And he knew I would pay, could be trusted, and would make his life easier.  The kids would keep their neighborhood, their friends.  We had the same floor plan, so I was still living in my dream house, plus his had a man cave with a pool table, a screen porch with a hot tub, a huge back patio that was completely furnished and a fire pit to boot.  On paper, it was perfect.  We moved in.

Rent the house.  Seemed simple enough.  Everyone loved the house.  Lots of people looked.  I was showing the place several times a week.  And my house saga continued because people kept backing out.  The first family was a friend of a David and Kimberly’s.  He backed out and told them, not me, the day before he was supposed to move in after I was already living with Sam.  So, I paid rent at Sam’s and a half mortgage payment that month.  Ouch.  The second family never showed up the day we had scheduled to sign the papers and pay the deposit.  So, it’s no wonder when the squatters showed up with cash in hand, eager to sign that the third time, I was charmed.

We all know how that turned out.  There were court fees and court papers and a court date.  There was an eviction with a sheriff and everything.  There was stress galore.  And the bank and I came to an understanding.  They wouldn’t foreclose until they had given me adequate time to sell.  And I’m in forbearance while it’s on the market.  I had to accept losing my house.  It wasn’t overwhelming.  I still had my home with Sam.  Only a few weeks later, I didn’t.  And that’s when reality really set in.  He had offered to let me and the kids stay with him for several months while I saved some money and found a place.  It was all very civil.  Only then it wasn’t and I had to move out over a weekend.

The kids and I were homeless for a week.  We couldn’t live in our old home with no power, water, or gas.  And my family was a thousand miles away. We were sleeping on couches and floors of friends, living out of the laundry baskets, suitcases, and grocery bags in the car.  Homeless requires a lot more organization, flexibility, and spontaneity than the life we were used to.  For some reason, the kids never lost faith in me even though I blamed myself, they believed that I could once again right all the wrongs.

We found an apartment.  And my mother and my Jennie generously ensured I could get into it.  It was a big change.  And not in the geographic location, which is a mere two miles from our house.  It’s a new lifestyle.  We are truly on our own now, living a life that I can afford all by myself, since that’s how it is being financed…all me.

This year I had to re-examine what a home was, modify my definition.  There are so many adages, the old ‘home is where the heart is.’  Oh, and ‘A house is made of brick and stone.  A home is made of love alone.’  Home is more than a place to hang your hat and entertain your friends.  It is the backdrop for where you build your dreams and nourish your soul.  It is the place where you accept your reality and hope for the best.  It is the place where, if you’re living it right, happiness will flourish and joy abound.  And after a year of nearly indescribable challenges, I finally seem to have that right.

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I finally exhaled…

Tuesday, December 8th, 2009

It was sweet November before I finally found peace.  October saw me hitting rock bottom.  I was so broken, such a raw open wound that I could barely post, barely function, barely breathe.  Everyone I know and love worried about me, wondered over me, prayed for me.  And what they all wondered that only one person dared ask, the person who hurt me most, was would I recover from this.  For a long time I wasn’t sure.  I had lost interest in writing, which was saying something.  And I had lost interest in eating which was really saying something.  I was merely going through the motions, having become one of those hollow shell people.

The finding peace was something that snuck up on me.  It didn’t happen all at once.  First, I noticed silly things, like I was back to singing again.  I know, singing doesn’t seem like much, but I was singing unconsciously completely unaware that I was doing it.  Oh, and there were other signs that I was recovering, like the smile.  Some days my face very nearly hurt and I was glad I had remembered to moisturize because laugh lines at my age would just be pathetic.  And I took to random giggling again.

In the past, I’ve been known for my optimistic attitude, but as of late, not so much.  I stopped laughing and smiling and was tense.  I’m not tense.  Okay, a little high strung, but that’s just because I’m a perfectionist and I was with the wrong man…again.  The funny thing I discovered was that in losing him, I found myself.

And in finding myself, I found that peace.  Soon, I realized I was breathing again.  It was as though I had been holding my breath, afraid of what was going to happen next, afraid of what else I might lose.  What did I have left, my mind, my health, my kids?  They were what was keeping me together, knowing that they needed me.  While it was being in my own apartment, away from The Bubble, my neighbors, and HIM that scared me so much, it was what truly started the healing process.

Know how I knew I was 100%?  I think it was over the weekend.  Friday night was my first night alone.  I hadn’t made any plans, no not-a-dates, no elimidates, no meeting friends, nothing.  And in the past, that would have frightened me…being alone with myself.  Last year, in the house, it was so painful.  Now, it was something I looked forward to, something I longed for…a little alone time with me.

But wait…there’s more.  I’m opening my heart again.  There is one man that I am dying to elimidate, the one man who hasn’t pushed for it.  In him, I see a kindred spirit.  He’s a single dad, recovering from being made suddenly single.  We have nice talks, when we can.  We share the mundane aspects of our daily lives.  And he listens to my stories, asking questions for more details.  MORE!  He’s a reader and a traveler.  He is, as far as I can tell, a good man.  (Hence the need for the elimidate.)  I’ll give it time.  I’ll give him time.  Things like this can’t be rushed or pushed or engineered.

All I know is I have found balance in my life, my feet planted evenly on the ground.  There is peace in the evenness of my breath.  There is joy in my soul.  My happiness knows no boundaries.  My life makes sense, and more it is ever improving.  And I’m ready to share it…

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Best blog find…

Monday, December 7th, 2009

Uh.  It’s like asking me to pick a favorite child.  But if Gwen Bell wants me to tell you about my best blog find, then I’ll tell you about my best blog find…just as soon as I figure it out.  And I have to admit, since I’ve started blogging I’ve become something of a think out loud kind of person.  So, here it goes.  These are the blogs that I would give a gold star and all my blog love to.

Among the blogs that I can’t imagine not reading, the ones that I naturally link to, a few are indispensable.  First, I have to tell you that I find in Mir of Woulda Coulda Shoulda to be a kindred spirit.  She writes with such wit and humor that I can’t help but check her blog daily.  And on Thursdays, she writes the most inspiring, heartfelt Love Thursday posts about her kids, her husband, their dog…  She keeps me happy.  Mir, don’t ever change.  Don’t ever stop writing, but if you do, could I have your talent?  Pretty please?

And the next blog that I’ve discovered that I couldn’t live without…Martini Mom.  See, she’s another single mom.  She’s raising her son on her own.  And we moved in with our boyfriends about the same time.  (Okay, I moved in with my boyfriend, she had hers move in with her.  Smart woman.)  And while my relationship went the way of the Titanic (I call the iceberg that sank us M…) her relationship has stayed afloat.  Yay!  She gives me hope.  (Which also floats…)  On top of that, reading her makes me feel smarter.  She always expands my horizons, introduces me to something I wouldn’t have otherwise known whether it be art-of-the-month clubs, or t-shirt clubs, or music.  Again I find myself ready to mention Pomplamoose.  (Yes, I’m sending you to YouTube.  I could’ve sent you to their website, but it’s not nearly as fun.  And I could’ve tried putting video on this site, but I’m not ready to try that this morning.  Still sleepy.  Forgive me?)  So, check out Martini Mom when you get a chance because  she rocks.

And finally, last but most definitely not least, is Dad’s House Blog.  See, I can’t take credit for discovering Dad’s House and its creator, David Mott.  David found me, plucked me from obscurity, and linked to me.  (Don’t get me wrong, I’m still obscure, just not AS obscure.  Big difference.)  I started reading him because he’s funny and witty and wise.  I love his writing style, and given his immense popularity and blogging success, so do MANY others.  (He’s not exactly the best kept secret on the web.)  I love reading him for his male perspective on being a single parent, and for simply writing about being single.  Because of David and his blog, I’ve met so many other bloggers, made more virtual friends, and even had a wonderful new opportunity present itself.  (You know me, I never hold out for long.  All will be revealed in time.  Maybe even next time?  Regardless, soon.)

Forgive me, Gwen Bell.  I couldn’t pick just one.  All of these and many others have impacted my life this past year.  It was hard enough limiting myself to three.  So, hopefully you can give me a little credit for that at least.  Right?

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A night to remember…

Saturday, December 5th, 2009

It was January 24th, 2009.  I won’t soon forget that night.  It was the last night that I went out with a group of friends and partied in uptown Charlotte.  That’s right…Epicentre.  The heart of it all.

Epicentre is composed of a group of bars and restaurants, a theatre, hotels, everything one might want and/or need for a good night on the town.  The offering is as diverse as the people who patronize the place.  And I hadn’t been.  As you may have gathered…single mom here.  I don’t get out and party much.  I mean, partially because it’s not really my scene, and because in order for it to be my scene I have to spend money.  So, I have discovered I can find my scene elsewhere.

Well, the thoroughbreds (Donna and Tina) decided that we should go out.  (This is about the time that Michael started calling them the thoroughbreds and announced that I was built for comfort…)  So, we gathered a group of friends together, all people who worked in that area, rented a van, pronounced one man the DD and met up at a South Charlotte restaurant to put some food on our bellies before any drinking began.

Yes, I ordered food and Donna ordered us a round of shots.  And it had to be Goldschlager.  Freakin’ ’schlager.  Deceptively innocent tasting fiend.  So, I ate, and drank, and we loaded the van.  I was already feeling warm, which was good since it was COLD outside.  (North Carolina cold is like an Adirondack fall day, mostly.)

There were seven of us, to start with.  We picked up more friends at Whiskey River, our first stop.  Well, the minute we entered the bar, Donna and Tina were off to the dance floor and they treated SP, who was quite smitten with them, like a coat rack. Donna talked to him for a few minutes, only to skillfully deposit her coat and purse in his arms and leave him gawking after her as she sashayed away.  And I laughed.

Well, the music was great.  There was dancing and more shots.  I even danced with a strange man who gave me a hug at the end of it.  It was, I’ll admit, something like the kind of hug you’d give to a cute kid sister, but I took it.  (He was hot!)  And there were more shots.

Soon, we went to the next bar: Mez.  And for me it was something akin to that skit on Saturday Night Live that they turned into a movie with Will Ferrell…A Night at the Roxbury.  We were all walking toward the bar because apparently we hadn’t consumed enough alcohol for one evening.  I’m…short…and doing my best to keep up with all the tall people I’m with.  All of a sudden, a group of really gorgeous, tall, buff guys surrounds me.  And it wasn’t cool.  They might have just been playing, and in some situations, a different venue, I might have played along, but not there, not that night.

Rather than panic, I raised one arm into the air as high as I could while staring at the guy directly in front of me.  From outside the circle, Rory reached in and grabbed my hand, pulled me out to him, and helped me over to the bar.  After that, I decided I needed a drink, forget about a shot.  I needed something that I could sip…while settling my nerves.  I think it was an amaretto sour.  Ah.  And I ate the cherry first.

We didn’t stay there long.  Donna hated the music.  I wasn’t fond of the crowd.  And so it was back into the cold to find our next stop.  The night was young!  (And so were…well, I’m kinda young…)

We stopped at The Forum, after picking Tina up off the ground.  No, she wasn’t drunk.  She was clumsy.  Her heel managed to get caught in her jeans and she went down.  One minute she was there, next, gone!  Rory to the rescue…again.  (He was really there for us that night.)  And I have to tell you, I rather enjoyed The Forum.  Okay, having a strange man buy me drinks didn’t hurt.  It had never really happened to me before, so it was all new and exciting.  And I was feeling sexy and dangerous.  (It was the black lace push up bra.  Yeah, and those of you who know me are thinking I need a push up bra like I need a hole in the head… Well, it was the only bra that didn’t show under the cute shirt I was wearing.  So there.)

And by now, I’d had just enough alcohol to loosen up and have fun.  Too soon, I was dancing with questionable men…who bought me drinks…until Donna put the kibosh on that.  Spoil sport!  At least I still had Mehul to have fun with.  And he’s safe…a married man who really truly only wants to be my friend.  Perfect.

We gathered everyone up and headed to the van just before two.  And SP went off with another one of the guys.  They had decided to have breakfast at Uptown Cabaret.  (Because…according to them…nothing goes better with eggs than boobs.)  And the rest of us headed back to get our vehicles.  They drove me home because…I was smart enough not to drive.

Ed brought me to my car later that day, after I had showered and changed.  He asked about my night.  And it was a fun night.  I don’t usually go out, so it was a nice change for me.  It’s not something I’d like to do every weekend or even every month.  Instead…I’d make it an annual event, not unlike the running of the bulls.  So often, it has freakishly similar outcomes.

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The Best of 2009 Blog Challenge…

Friday, December 4th, 2009

Well, I’ve never heard of Gwen Bell.  And yes, I guess I do live under a very nice rock, thanks.  I say this because given the sheer number of individuals who have already signed up for the challenge, she must be well-known and popular.  So, thanks Martini Mom for the heads up.  (I read her and learn so much!  Remind me to share the Pomplamoose find soon…)

Anyway…Gwen Bell has a blog challenge which consists of a series of daily writing prompts which are designed to make the blogger reflect on his/her year.  And we know what a challenge it is for me to be introspective…right.  Regardless, it does follow with the entire premise of my blog, wherein I work on self-discovery and self-improvement.  So, I decided I would announce the challenge and periodically post on a given prompt.

Personally, I’m glad I didn’t discover the challenge right away.  Day one I would have had to revisit my best trip of the year.  Let’s see.  Hmm.  Would it be the cruise I took with Sam in February that spawned a whole lot of posts?  Would it be the trip we took to Myrtle Beach with his sister and her family in April, just after we decided to move in together?  Would it be the trip to Great Wolf Lodge that he insisted we take with the kids at the end of August just before they started school, less than six weeks before he did the cha cha on my heart?  Which bittersweet memory should I have selected?  Yeah, so I avoided day one.

Then day two was about a restaurant experience.  Oh, great.  So, do I write about one of our restaurant experiences on one of our trips or dining out with the kids or a night out alone in town together…  And that’s why I didn’t want to write about day two.  (But really, if I was going for funniest/most trying dining experience…the one where I threatened to tranq Rachel…hands down.)

Day three I was supposed to be writing about an article I read that really blew me away.  Well, I don’t see me parlaying an article I read about sex in Cosmo into a post.  My mother and daughter read this, damn it.  (So, I guess I need to read something else while I wait to get my hair cut next time?)

So, finally, on day four, I can write…albeit briefly… on a book I read that moved me, changed me, had me recommending it to others.  That book, ladies and gentlemen, (drum roll, please) would be The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.  How can anyone not love this book?  Rachel had to read it for her summer reading, so I looked at it as an excuse to read a novel I had heard so much about.  I was so intrigued, I barely let it out of my sight long enough for Rachel to read it.  I, in turn, recommended it to a patient, who also enjoyed it and has since started reading the blog.  (Hello, Mr. Taylor!)

There are more topics for me to write on.  I checked.  And some of them I’m really looking forward to.  For example, if you come back tomorrow, you can read about a night I went out that had absolutely NOTHING to do with Sam.  Yay!  It’s so reassuring to know that I did SOMETHING this past year that didn’t involve him in any way, shape, or form.  I’m so looking forward to 2010.  I’m ready for a fresh start and so much promise.  And this month, I like the idea of reminiscing about 2009 on the blog.

Enjoy!

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