And so, I’m back in front of Hemingway with a cup of coffee a safe distance away. We got to Glasgow after dark on Christmas Eve, met with hugs and pretzels. We then settled down to watch Bad Santa for the second time in 24 hours. Followed by Mr Popper’s Penguins, during which I fell asleep. Sarge still hasn’t forgiven me.
The air-mattress was the same height as the couch. I may have rolled from one to the other and continued to snore like a girl.
Me getting up from an air-mattress is like something out of an I Love Lucy episode. On Christmas day, Sarge was up first, and the see-saw action was just the momentum I needed.
I may have cried at the end of Miracle on 34th Street, somewhere between pancakes and presents, and before Poker. I may have cried at the end of the game, too. Not because I lost. Because I got a little over-whelmed. I do that. It makes me frustratingly loveable.
On Boxing Day, Sarge and I took a stroll to the coffee-shop where we ended our seven-hour first date. Then we went to the pub, because the Ferris wheel was closed.
We went home to left-overs and Home Alone. I may have cried at the end.
We left the next day, after planning our next trips.
And today, I’m sitting here lining up next year and going over this one.
Here are my highlights, thrills and one spill of 2011.
In April, a nurse named Karen super-glued my head, and I went to work with a black eye.
In May, I admitted that I grew up thinking Nina Simone was a man, amongst other things.
In June, Sarge met my New York family.
In October, I made a decision.
In November, I made a pact with my Dad. I’m still working on it.
And earlier this month, I said I don’t sleep with my colleagues, which might have confused cinema staff.
What about you? What are your highlights of 2011?
Sarge and I are on the road again tomorrow. Happy New Year when it comes!
(Inspired by life and Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop)
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