So, what do I have to show for the past year? In short: I quit my job, reconnected with old friends, honeymooned, knit a lot of hats (including a Yoda hat), dyed yarn with Kool-Aid, tried to swim from Alcatraz, held squirming grubs in order to feed squawking birds, visited Graceland, read nearly 30 books, and hosted Thanksgiving for the first time.

Oh, and I wrote a book!!  I’m not completely finished with the revisions of said book, but I am still going to celebrate it. In the not-quite-year since I quit my full-time job, I finished a full-length novel – one which had about ten pages for the preceding three years. I have always wanted to be a writer, always dreamed of writing a novel. Still in many ways, the dream seemed as possible as my walking on the moon or winning an Olympic medal.

I do not have an agent or a publisher or any of those necessary things. Soon I’ll be shipping my book off to be judged by the harsh, capricious literary world. I’ll also be redoubling my search for paid work – validation to offset the almost-guaranteed rejection.  Plus, I’ll be working on my next novel and my next short stories.   I may be halfway to dead, but my dream is no longer a trip to the moon; it’s a journey through my imagination by way of my keyboard.

The ugly — My wetsuit-hickeyed and bruised body.  No photos!

The bad — My attempted escape from Alcatraz on Saturday. Note the “attempted.” Everyone kept talking about how the water was “warm.” Everyone not swimming, that is. Let me assure you that 61 degrees is not warm! It was less cold than last time I swam, but the bay water still froze my brain, made my lungs contract, and set off every panic response in my body. I swam for a while but never got anywhere near relaxed. The water was extra choppy, and every time I managed to catch my breath, I got slapped in the face by another wave. I swallowed much water.

During my past open water swims, kayaks zoomed around me like vultures around a dying animal. I had to shoo them away. This time, I desperately wanted a kayak or a boat, and none were forthcoming. Finally, someone came and hauled me into his little zodiac. He transferred me to a bigger boat with a cabin. The second boat proceeded to idle about the bay for what felt like forever, until I began to feel seasick and actually asked the captain to let me jump back in the water. The captain told me he’d drop me at Fisherman’s Wharf after the swim was over, and I told him, “But my husband is waiting for me at Aquatic Park. And I have no shoes.” The deckhand came over a few minutes later to assure me the boat’s berth in Fisherman’s Wharf was not too far from Aquatic Park, and that there’s a sidewalk. I’m sure there are worse things, but the idea of walking around Fisherman’s Wharf barefoot, cold, and clad in a wetsuit was wretched to me. Finally, though, I just shrugged and said “Fine.”

Just a few minutes later, yet another zodiac driver came by to rescue me and one of the other two swimmers aboard. He made us swear we could swim the last bit, and we promised, so he said, “Hurry on up. I’ll get you to the breakwater, and from there you can enter Aquatic Park.” Somehow, it was a relief to get back in the water, to know I would soon be on shore where my husband was waiting for me with a towel and a swim parka.

The good — My sweet husband was patiently waiting for me on dry land. He took some photos to document the debacle. He even awoke at 5 am to drive me into San Francisco. He held a giant beach towel up as I did the surfer-girl change by the car in the Fort Mason parking lot. Then, we wandered back toward Aquatic Park and met our friend for brunch at McCormick & Kuleto’s. (There I had, if not the best at least the most hard-earned, spicy Bloody Mary ever!) Sweet husband, of course, laughed when I said, “Never again!!” and laughed even harder a few hours later, when I started a sentence with, “Should I ever try to do that again…”

***

The unrelated — Sunday it was my turn to be supportive spouse and #1 groupie. I went to the Concours d’Elegance at Stanford to listen to the San Jose Metropolitan Band play. In addition to listening to fun music in the warm sunshine, I was able to admire all kinds of fancy old cars — and some schmancy new ones, too. I fell in love with this beauty. I’m mildly obsessed! Hello, Tiger, where have you been all my life?!

Our family room looked like this at first…

and honestly, it’s not a lot better now. Unpacking comes in fits and starts. We’re overrun by cardboard that needs to be recycled or stored in the garage. But now, at least, we have clear pathways to all exits — which means the cardboard may burn up, but we won’t go with it!

Our merger of households did not include a sofa, but between us we had seven (7) cocktail shakers. Yes, I counted because it became funnier and funnier with each cocktail shaker unwrapped. What does that say about us?! I’m going with “We like to entertain,” because “We’re booze-hounds” is just unflattering. That said, in looking through the photos of the year, there quite a few photos of drinks.

While we still lack a sofa, none of our guests have complained, since we have a full dining room table and all the makings of some photo-worthy cocktails.

Instead of packing right now, as I should be (move is tomorrow), I’m writing this. All week, I’ve  been lovingly looking at design blogs, salivating at  images of beautiful, well-decorated homes. Then I realize that we’re going to be living for a while like students. We have no couch (ours were both old and not worth hauling), few chairs, and a crapton of books. Our living room is going to become a library, and our first guests will have to fight over our two comfy chairs. The rest will have to make do with folding chairs.

It’s thrilling to think about building a home together, and a little overwhelming at the same time. I get particularly procrastinator-paralyzed at the thought of the all boxes which must be packed TODAY. Guess I should stop this madness, and get back to it.

Stay tuned for pics of the new place. Once again, I’m resolving to post more.

Probably most of the readers are my friends I’ve pointed in that direction, but it’s still  exciting to me.  Now, I just need to keep writing!  And keep reading, because if the truth be told, I have my own list titled “Books I skipped in school” —  the point of departure for the story.  My list differs slightly from Ariana’s.

Here’s mine:

1. The Pearl
2. Tortilla Flat
3. Grapes of Wrath (well, read it, but skipped whole chapters)
4. The Scarlet Letter
5. All Quiet on the Western Front
6. Vanity Fair

I never skipped Moby Dick, but probably would have had it been assigned to me.  I got into Dickens when I was reading him in college, though my class never got to A Tale of Two Cities. I should give that a try.

If I start a personal classics revival, I’ll post my progress here.  If I do, I’d start with Steinbeck or Dickens.

So far, unremarkable political protest or anarchistic statement.  What was noteworthy?  She was wearing a skirt, with polka dot tights, big boots…and a big woolly wolf mask.  She was dancing on the corner, and in front of any car that stopped for the light at the corner of Duboce & Mission.  It inspired my passenger to say “She dances to her own drummer,” but really she had headphones on.

The lesson learned?  Always carry a camera! I was so bummed that I had just taken mine out of my purse. I wouldn’t even have to write anything, simply post the photo with the caption “San Francisco.”

No bailouts or magic formulas here.  I had racked up debt due to some overspending,  a brief period of unemployment, and then a longer stint of not making enough money.  Once I got a regular job again, I decided I was tired of paying interest, tired of being just like all those other over-strapped Americans.  I had gotten into the mess myself, and was determined to get out of it by myself.

I listened to Dave Ramsey who advocates paying cash for everything, and watched my financially savvy bofyriend as he did that every day.  I started a (mostly) cash-only diet, which has been much more successful than that other diet.

I geeked out with spreadsheets and budgets, read articles and blogs about frugal living, personal finance, and investing. I started putting as much as I possibly could toward my credit card every month.  I enjoyed watching my balance go down, and the monthly interest rate decline with it.  My goal was to pay off my credit card before the end of the year, and I accomplished that a whole month early.  It feels really good.  It’s been a looong journey.

Then, as if checking off my financial resolution for the year weren’t enough…on the very day I paid off my credit card, I walked into the Gap and bought a pair of jeans off the rack.   In a regular store!  Yay.

(OK, I have to admit that the dear boyfriend did more than act as a cash-only role model.  He’s been a ridiculously generous gentleman who takes me out more often than I deserve.  Thanks, D, if it weren’t for you, I’d have been eating beans and rice the whole time!)

I know, some are more ghostly than others, but all were fun to make.   I’m no Heidi Swanson, but I do occasionally have fun in the kitchen.   Trying to take decent pictures of the phantasms gave me renewed respect for photographers in general, but food photographers in particular.  Those mouthwatering photos are way beyond the simple point-and-click.  Not to mention that you have to have a clean kitchen with lots of space to get the best angle, especially if you want an action shot of your partner in crime.  Maybe next time!

I’m already thinking of how to tweak the design of the meringues to make them into Christmas trees.  It’s the gift that just keeps giving.

I wanted to simply enjoy the moment, revel in the fact that I’d just jumped off a ferry near The Rock and swam all the way to shore. Why were people asking, “What’s the next challenge?”

Before the swim, I told myself that if I jumped off the ferry and managed to swim a few strokes, that would equal success. Yes, in this instance, I set a pretty low bar. Of all the challenges I’ve taken on – a marathon, a triathlon, other races – this felt the scariest. I didn’t want to muck my head up any more with pesky expectations of finishing.

A few strokes in, I flung my hands in the air and cheered, “Success!” Then I kept moving…and in my head, I kept singing “Just keep swimming.” Yes, music from “Finding Nemo” (and a song from the musical “Barnum”) kept me moving. When I wasn’t singing, I was thinking, “I’m actually doing this…I’m doing something I’ve always dreamed of doing…Ugh, it’s choppy…I’m not moving…Just keep swimming…Wow! How many people get to see the skyline from this perspective?” It felt for a while as if I weren’t moving, then before I knew it I was halfway there. Somewhere along the way, I lost my friend Cheryl, but I knew the kayakers would keep her safe, so I just kept swimming. The kayakers, by the way, were overwhelmingly nice, wonderful, supportive people. They cheered, they said kind things, they put me back on course when I’d veered left, they offered to let me rest, they helped me to feel safe in what is a generally thought to be an insane endeavor.

Anyway, I blather. I finished. I was happy. I am happy. I drank beer and ate hot dogs with my cheering family and friends. They made the day exceptional; having them there made the celebration that much more special.

I don’t know what’s next. When I asked my friend Patty, “Sheesh! Why do people keep asking me that?” She said simply, “Because that’s who you are. You’ve always got something you’re working on.” When you put it like that, it’s not so pressure-filled.

Hmm…I’ve still got weight to lose. And I’ve always wanted to write a book.