I’ve started thinking about why I’m not blogging as much as I used to. Could be that not a whole lot is going on…no, wait, that’s not true. All kinds of things are going on. And then it hits me: Twitter. AJB mentioned something about how his own blog has suffered at the hands of Twitter. I make mini-updates throughout the day, so why go back and write the long version? People get the point, right? Do I want my life memorialized in tiny, bite sized chunks or do I want to remember things the way they happened? Is there a difference?

Is “Watched TV for an hour” better than “Last night, the kids and I watched Star Trek together. It was their idea and I was happy to discover that Cat has a mean crush on Spock…which doesn’t mirror my own infatuation with Kirk, but hey…it’s Trek and we don’t have to like the same things. We’re still in the same category. It’s wonderful to see that AJB’s kids are latching onto things that I like and while we all like each other very much, it’s awesome to have pop-culture references to geek out over together. This always leads me back to the conclusion that I am the luckiest soon-to-be step-mom in history.”

I for one, like the elaboration. And by the way, that’s a true story. After watching the new JJ Abrams Star Trek, the kids have really gotten into the world of Star Trek. It piqued their interest and they now want to watch more of the original series – which makes my heart sing. Because, as you know, I’m a huge Trek fan. Not the kind that dresses up, but I do go to conventions and swoon in geekiness. Actually, I’d dress up if I could. I’ve always wanted one of those Operations Division uniforms for females. You know, the Uhura dress. I digress, where was I? Except, hold on, the Star Trek Grand Slam is taking place in November at the LAX Marriott. I think I’ll be on my honeymoon.

Onto other topics now.

On Tuesday, I saw a new doctor to help me with my skin condition – the elusive and determined eczema rashes on my hands and now, my face. Dude, I’m one of those gross weirdos with rashes on their faces. You know the kind of person you see on the bus, red patches all over their cheeks and mouth, you try not to stare, but you can’t help yourself? That’s me. AJB says it’s not that bad, but he doesn’t have to look at me in the mirror everyday. Ugly or not, it’s been rather uncomfortable as well. That said, I also can’t get married with rashes on my face. There is some reason why it’s not going away. Despite all my best efforts, it lessens, but never goes away. The good news is, it’s not nearly as bad as it was a year ago. I’m obviously exaggerating. It’s not that bad. It’s bad enough that I need to take drastic action.

This new doctor has put me on an allergy elimination diet – this means I cut out any potentially offending foods. After two weeks, I reintroduce foods one by one. The hardest thing to give up has been coffee. As a result, I had a killer migraine for 2 days. I spent those days in pain or sleeping. Today is the 3rd day and while I desperately want a cup of steaming, hot coffee, I don’t feel as terrible as I did on Day 1. AJB’s assistant reminds me that after two weeks, I probably won’t want coffee. The caffeine will be out of my system and my body will have figured out how to live without it. Going back on means I’m making a choice to continue an addiction to coffee. Well, I’ve been drinking coffee since I was 15. Is that an addiction?

I don’t really like to call my love affair with coffee an “addiction”. Many happy moments have been shared over a cup of coffee. Good conversations, beautiful cafes, good people. In fact, when AJB and I were in Italy, I made it a point to drink an espresso and have a smoke at an outdoor cafe. It was lovely. It was simply lovely.

A finished espresso and smoke at Cafe Gilli in Florence.

The question is, after two weeks will I choose to restart a 19 year addiction? Most likely. Like smoking, there are emotional connections to the act of drinking coffee, to making a great cup, sitting at a Denny’s with my sister playing cards into the wee hours of the night, my first date with AJB, my first job in Pasadena at a coffee house, talking about the moon with my brother Paul, sitting with my Dad and arguing politics, discussing the importance of The Sims with JCS, meeting countless friends for coffee, that first cup in the morning, and discovering that after 19 years, I really do know the difference between good and bad coffee. So you see, it’s not about the caffeine (although that helps), it’s a part of my life. I might go so far as to say that it’s a part of who I am. I’m a coffee drinker.

When I was 15, the reason I started drinking coffee was because I was reading a great deal of the Beat Poets (especially Kerouac) and the idea of old fashioned coffee houses intrigued me. The idea of reading, writing, and smoking in a coffee house…it was a romantic notion to me. It still is. I wrote a lot more when I was 15. After school, I’d go to this old people diner in Camarillo, drink coffee, and write…for hours on end.

Giving up coffee is like turning your back on an old friend. Even though you know that friend might be bad for you, it still hurts. My symptoms have indeed subsided over the last few days, but I’m not ready to point the finger at coffee. I haven’t eaten much since Tuesday due to the incapacitating migraine that came with going cold turkey on just about everything I love to eat and drink. AJB continues to remind me that it’s only temporary. In 12 days I’ll have coffee again. It’s at the scary moment, I’ll determine if coffee has indeed been my friend or foe. I’m actually a little nervous to find out. Truth is, I’ve been putting off giving up coffee all this time. I suppose my kidneys deserve a rest and I have to stay positive. Whatever happens happens. Let the coffee grounds fall where they may.

2007 will always be the year my dad died. Even though other events skirted in and out of sunrises and sunsets, it’s hard to think about anything else. I lost so much this year. The family (en masse) I once knew seems to be a reasonable facsimile of the vivacious group of people I spent my holidays with. Are we closer? I don’t know. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Fantasies bring pictures of uniting through tragedy and while this is sometimes the case, it isn’t often. Alas, I am unsure of what it will take and often wonder that I might have to trudge on without them. Maybe it just takes time.

2007 was also the year I moved in with my boyfriend. We got into a grand house in a grand neighborhood. I see his children more often and I am now hostess to my family’s year Christmas Eve Spectacular. My life isn’t anything like it was a year ago. Every thing’s changed. It’s funny how you can actually track the changes, if you want to. The choices you make and the choices that are made for you. They shape you and mold you. If you’re not careful, you may end up becoming someone you hardly recognize. And that has been my battle, my haunted quest. Who I become in the wake of my father’s death is now up for discussion.

One year ago tonight I was trapped in Albuquerque, snowed-in during what eventually became the largest snow storm New Mexico had ever seen. I often wonder about these things. You see, I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to spend as much time with my dad as possible. The snow storm made it possible. Thanks to nature and it’s unpredictability, I was granted a few more precious days. We didn’t do anything. We watched TV, talked a little, he slept, we slept. It was nice and I treasure those days. When I drove away, I cried. I guess I must have known that he wouldn’t make it. Even though my brain lied to me and told me he’d be fine, my soul knew different.

In 2007 I received money my dad left me and bought a professional camera, a highly expensive lens, and a new iMac. I don’t think I could have ever afforded any of that if it hadn’t been for my dad.

During the trials and tribulations of 2007, I suffered and continue to suffer from stress related eczema. I haven’t liked talking about it because it’s highly personal, unflattering, and annoying. I’m resolve in my belief that I won’t have it much longer and that because of it, I have altered my eating habits and am honestly trying to live a more healthy and productive life. I’m still a work in progress, but the way I figure…I’m working on it. That’s a good thing. The holidays set me back a bit, but I guess the point is to keep trying.

2007 was the hardest year of my life. Even though every day it gets a little better, I remain slightly broken. Adding salt to my wounds, my grandfather was recently admitted to the hospital. I’m not really sure what’s going on, but apparently he’s getting sent home and might still be in bad shape. How well do 90 year olds recover from this sort of thing? I imagine not well and while he might go home, he won’t be healthy, he’ll be a lot more frail and his days will be numbered. I guess at 90, they already are. There are also various custody battles going on over my grandfather and his future is highly uncertain.

2007 was a bad year mixed with small tinges of good. I also went to New York, a town I love more than a whole lot of other towns. I had dinner with Ray Bradbury at Disneyland’s Club 33, I got a new iPhone, my baby brother got engaged to a girl no one likes, my siblings divvied up my dad’s remaining possessions, my boyfriend and I discovered that we still like each other enough to live together after miscellaneous growing pains, and I accomplished several amazing photo shoots. I’m in a whole new place. My mind, my soul, everything. It’s all new and scary and difficult.

What lies ahead for 2008? Do I dare make resolutions? I figure, why bother? I won’t follow them anyhow and like 2007, I’ll simply hope for the best. I know things will get better because I want them to. I’ll continue to make strides and will strive to create a life my dad would be proud of. As each day passes, the reality of his demise will set in a little more and I’ll stop wishing it weren’t true and simply accept it as fact. In 2008 my brother will most likely get married and I’ll see Omaha for the first time. I’ll probably hate it. In the coming year, I might find financial independence or I might chicken out and stick to the status quo. I might find some semblance of bravery and go after the things I want with gusto. Time will tell, the days will pass, and they fly by faster every year. 2008 will pass faster than 2007 and I’ll be one year older. Things will continue to change and so will I.

See what happened in 2006.