F**k you, 2009. Hey, 2010, how you doin'?

* If there was an elderly person that would have been best served by a "death panel," it would have been Old Man 2009. I hated that old bastard. He always smelled like Old Spice and kept on grabbing my junk.

* Trying to break My Son Cool of the habit of saying "two thousand and ten." Cause you wouldn't say that I was born in "one thousand nine hundred and seventy-four." Ticky-tacky, I know, and really, we have bigger fish to fry as far as he is concerned. He wants to quit karate, which breaks my heart - not because he comes from a long line of accomplished martial artists (you should see my crouching snake), but because I still think that it can instill the proper discipline that's been so sorely lacking in him to date. (Read: it can instill the proper discipline in him where I have failed.)

And he's not going to be a quitter.

And besides, Wife and I went and watched him yesterday. The class has progressed into fighting. And he was DAMN impressive, moreso than I would have expected. He doesn't realize it, but all of the practicing before this point - think "wax on, wax off" from The Karate Kid - has set in, and even though he is bored by it, it served him well. You could have knocked me over with a feather. He even kicked another little kid in the chin. Solid, too! I turned to Wife and whispered a celebratory expletive.

* Nothing better than moving heavy stuff with a New Year's hangover. And so we inherited a new (to us) HE washer. Cleared out a spot in the garage for the old (LE) one, awaiting the new one, which is in transit as I write. It is red. This is the only thing I know about it.

If we build in five years as planned (it's been "five years" for about the last three), I'm not going to settle for secondhand stuff or hand-me-downs. That method of obtaining appliances has been ok for us to this point, but I'll admit that sometimes I feel like we deserve better.
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