Post-Christmas Smoked Turkey Enchildadas

Tonight, we are making smoked turkey enchiladas, and I can only say that I feel nothing but relief that Christmas is over. That's me, saying that. Me, the one who loves Christmas and the holidays so much that we got married at that time. Me. This year, Christmas was a bummer. I'm so glad it's over.

I feel as though I am already making New Years resolutions, like Christmas has ended and a new thing is beginning. I barely remember New Years Eve last year, except that we went to a party at the Gulu and I didn't want to be there, so we left before midnight and celebrated New Years in the car, driving home. I think, somehow, I was already leaving that place. I knew I didn't belong, no matter how much I wanted to. And this year too, I am struggling, so uncomfortable in my own skin. I don't belong here. I can't think of celebrating, or of anything but the house. Of moving. Of having my own space and sitting in a bathtub that is my own, a living room that I've created. Of putting dishes away wherever I decide they go. Of being alone with the one person that I love more than anyone of earth. Of only us.

As is often the case, after a few days of not going to an office and sitting at a desk, I feel like I'm brimming over with creativity. I want to write and paint and dance and sing and go out into the night and cast spells. I want to mow the lawn again, sit on the porch, plant flowers.I want to make things. I want to eat potato salad and cook outside and read in a hammock. I want to go on vacation. I want my life six months from now.

Tomorrow we begin a week of earnest, hard work on the house. And each day will bring frustration, progress, and (I hope) bring us one step closer to being in. And hopefully, there will be time for a little painting and reading and writing snuck in as well. I'm starting 2010 early this year, calling 2009 over and done with as of now. This is our year, internet.

This is our year.