Thursday, December 30, 2010

I Want... (and what I am ready to burn)

Dear Baby New Year (and for my dearest friend (you know who you are), I am referring to the real one, not the bad one).
Okay, let's begin again...

Dear Baby New Year,

I am in dire need of your grace. This past year has been shtty shtty bang bang for sure. I could write volumes on all the bad stuff that happened to me and my loved ones, but since privacy is important, I will only speak about my year.

Baby New Year, last year started off with nearly all of the people that I love getting the vomit virus, and though I didn't get it, it was six weeks of wondering who would get it next, how I could help care for them, and when it would all be over.

All was well for a while after that, a couple bumps in the road here and there, but nothing to worry my pretty little head about, until August came. And then there I was, the girl who never gets hurt or sick, in rolling months of agonizing ailments and injuries. First, as I was heading out to a long anticipated weekend at Daddy-O's in LBI, I scratched my eyeball (corneal abrasion). A handful of patches, a bottle of Advil, W tending to my every need, three weeks of antibiotics, and two weeks of steroid drops later, my vision was back to normal. My ear, however, became clogged.

Five weeks of a clogged ear, four rounds of Methylprednisolone six packs and a super specialist who put me on 60 mg of Prednisone ran my body down so much that I ended up getting an ER diagnosis of shingles on the Saturday that followed Thanksgiving.

And, Baby New Year, that's just the physical stuff. There was so much more. God, so much more. I won't bring you down with the rest of it. Thankfully, I have my boyfriend, who is my rock, and my happy-go-lucky son to keep me going. And the girls, who always cheer me up. And family, and my good friends.

If you would please help me to have a better 2011, I am leaving you an offering in return. A fat loaf of crusty Italian bread, some cold hard cash, and a bottle of booze. Wait, a good bottle of booze. For you (and for my sanity), I will be burning a small Mr. Old Year, to get rid of all the toxicity that existed in my life in 2010.

Suddenly, in the past week, life has taken a turn for the better, which has offered me some degree of hope. Baby New Year, please keep it going. For the past year's problems, please give us some sort of positive reinforcement.

If I could ask for anything, this is what I'd want: Privacy, and protection from all the unkind that exists. Bring lots of sunshine, green grass, and new growth on my trees. (No need to send grubs.) Continue to allow me the support of my good friends, and of course, my man. Health for my family, and everyone we love, would be key. And if you wouldn't mind, get me back into those size 4 jeans that are piled high in my closet.

Getting out my yellow underwear and riding a wing of hope. Help me out here, man.

Yours truly,
the Domestic Goddess


  1. Happy New Years to you Tiffany! I am going to cross my fingers for you that your letter gets to Mr. baby new year!

  2. I think it did. We are off to a smashing start.