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You know how sometimes you forget you love a song for years and years and then you hear it somewhere random and all of a sudden you are like HEY THIS IS MY FAVORITE SONG, and you want to tell everyone you know about it, except all the people you really want to tell it to are far away?

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xdt58T366xw]

Anyway. I love this effing song, and they played it at the bar on Saturday night when I went to visit Tom at work on my way home from Davis Square (partly because I think he’s nifty and partly because the lock on our front door has been freezing, and I didn’t want to be stuck outside the apartment by myself at 1:30 in the morning. One thing about Tom is he can always negotiate tricky locks).

Obsessions for the month of January: Idol auditions. Carla Bruni. That raspberry-flavored fiber stuff you put in your water bottle. My smart new kelly green planner. Coffee from the corner store. Northampton with the toy store girls. Short, naked fingernails. Canada. Dinner dates. Facebook. Watching the days get ever-so-incrementally longer.

What up, Monday.

Lose five. Finish the Pulitzers. Write it all, all the time. Drink more water. Get two published. Figure out the church thing. Recommit to this space. Mexico in the spring, New Orleans in the summer, London in the fall. S t r e t c h. Get this business off the ground (and stop being so damn cryptic about it here). Work on the family stuff. Save some dollars. Wear some heels. Eat some vegetables. Learn everything. Say yes.

Now you go.

Before we went home for Christmas, Tom and I were grabbing some dinner down the street when I asked him: “Do you think this was a good year?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he said, nodding–then stopped and looked at me with that expression he gets when he suspects I’m setting a trap. “Don’t you?”

No trap here. I actually rather loved oh-nine, speed bumps and all (especially compared to 2008, which sort of pooped on my carpet, Todd Packer-style): I saw girlfriends in New York and Philadelphia and Ohio. We went to Mystic and Rockport and Lake George. I spent time on the deck and in front of the fire, on mountains and on beaches and riding shotgun in cars. I wandered around farmers markets, tried a CSA for the first time, and  made a lot of tasty dinners. I spoke up at work, and finagled myself a schedule that leaves me time to do the stuff I actually want to do. I wrote 50,000 words. I got a few of ’em published. I planned big plans.  2009 was a rebuilding year, for sure–and I am facing 2010 feeling, well…built.

Bring it on, universe.

I am so ready.

When I think back on Christmas and New Years 2009, I have the feeling I’m going to remember myself in the kitchen–where I spent hours at a stretch, happily mixing and chopping and rolling while friends and family wandered in and out, settling in at the table with red wine or iced coffee, helping with frosting and stealing batter out of bowls. There were cookie bags and boxes, a back to basics Alice Waters apple tart and a (cheater) Betty Crocker Christmas cake.

Particular winners this go-round included Deb’s fig and walnut biscotti (I swapped out golden raisins and they were delicious) and pumpkin muffins (used butternut squash–shocker–and made them in GIANT, delightful muffin tins) , Orangette’s chocolate chip ginger molasses cookies, and these parmesan shortbreads (which taste like cheddar goldfish but are oh-so-swank). We tried Martha’s pan roasted chicken (meh, the cook times were off) and her basic chicken soup (OH YUM). A family recipe for walnut crescents. Scrambled eggs. Snickerdoodles. Cheddar-topped cornbread. Mint brownie ice cream sandwiches. So. Much. Food.

We’re going to have to be taking it a little easier in January: we’re headed to Mexico in March, and shaving a little off the middle is tops on my list of Things to Do in 2010. Still, I had a ball making all this stuff, sharing it all with the people I love. It felt good. It always does.

Tell me what you made for the holidays.

And good morning to you, brand new decade.

It is so nice to see you both.

The holidays were lovely, full of good eats and old friends and singing in the car with my sister (my number one favorite New York activity. One of these days we are going to take our act on the road). We saw White Christmas in town with my dad. I ate the most delicious walnut and sun-dried tomato pesto courtesy of my uncle. And my mom remains the world’s best sous-chef, always one step ahead of me, always right there to help out. Thanks for a very merry, family. All things considered, you’re pretty okay.

As if that wasn’t aces enough, as soon as I got back to Boston two of my most beloved girlfriends dropped in right out of the sky, ready to drink wine and make chicken soup and shop the Semi-Annual Sale. We cuddled and baked and told secrets and watched movies and figured out how to use my new food processor (holy moly, you guys, it has a juicer) and generally spent a lot of time loving on each other. How did I get so lucky, to have so many amazing women in my life? I must have been very good somewhere along the line.

And now, ten spankin’ new years to write on. How sweet is that? There are resolutions (of COURSE there are), and delicious new recipes to tell you about, and a quick recap, before we get too far ahead, of everything that was incredible about 2009.  There are books to read and letters to write and boyfriends to kiss. There are songs to sing in the car at the top of my lungs with my sister on snowy roads.

I’m a grownup in this decade. I am facing it in my best, most hopeful, most powerful pair of grownup shoes.

Actually, right now I’m facing it barefoot in my pajamas. But you know what I mean.

Happy January, loves.

Six different kinds of cookies (details to come, but suffice it to say that 2009’s is a Very Smitten Christmas) into the office and into the mail. Bathroom is clean. Suitcase is packed (almost). Shopping is done (kind of). Books are picked out (The Mambo Kings Sing Songs of Love, The Lacuna, Shopgirl). Camera is dead (must buy batteries). One more veg pickup this afternoon, plus two packages waiting at the post office (my contacts I hope I hope). Amy at work made me the most hilarious calendar I have ever seen.  Ten thousand errands left to run. A couple of Pandora hours left to use up. Got my boots on. Need a latte.

Back next week with a 2009 roundup. In the meantime: merry, merry, merry. I’m going home.

Dear Mad Men:

I don’t care that everyone likes you, I think you’re boring and offensive. And if that’s what the sixties were actually like, I suspect I would have found them boring and offensive, too.

No love,

Katie

PS: I guess the clothes are pretty nice.

001. We are snowed in. Like, for real. We live in a city, and we’re not even plowed. 

001a. This wouldn’t be a problem except that we are OUT OF COFFEE. I’m trying to decide if it’s worth risking death by snowdrift to go remedy that. Seriously, it’s like Sophie’s Choice over here. 

002. Is Giada pregnant again? She looks like she might be. Although right now she’s making a fruit salad dressed in butter, so maybe she’s just been wandering down the hall to hang out with Paula Deen. 

003. Doughs in the fridge waiting to be turned into workplace goodies: three. Doughs still left to put together: three. Number of doughs containing butternut squash: one. But that’s only cause I made more scones yesterday. 

004. I finished Beloved last night. I cried when I got to the line about Paul D wanting to put his story next to Sethe’s. Other than that, I feel like maybe somebody needs to talk me through what happened in this book. I’m the most fraudulent Lit major EVER. 

005. Dinner with old roommates. Brunch with old friends. Crazy-lady writing jags. Presents wrapped in the funny pages. Fireplace. Naps. Peace. Quiet.

How was everybody’s weekend?

Christmas postcards, 2009. Done and done.