Last day of the year . . .

So it's New Year's Eve and I'm quite happy to be hanging out at home. I'm still on the tail end of this cold, Eric & Garielle are cuddling upstairs & watching TV (I'll be joining them as soon as I hit "post"), and I'm eating a yummy stir fry.

Every new year since . . . oh, about 1990, I think, each year sounds so bizarrely futuristic that it's hard to believe we've arrived. I remember when 1999 hit, Prince's "1999" was played all the time, and here we were, at the very precipice of the millenium.

2000 came, and the world's computer systems did not all crash.

Here we are and 2007 is upon us. It's just a mid-decade year.

As I type, I'm listening to a bunch of songs I downloaded, songs I figured I'd never hear again. They evoke memories of years past, other lives I've lived, people I've loved, people I didn't like so much, places I lived.

Sometimes I feel like I've lived several lifetimes.

In some ways, I feel like my husband and I are a young couple, just starting out. This is because we married just seven and a half years ago, and we have a five-year-old. But Eric will be 50 next month, and I'm 43. We're no spring chickens.

So let's see - how many lifetimes have I lived?

There was my childhood. That was a great lifetime. I suppose my university days can be lumped in with childhood.

There were probably too many lovers. I probably gave my heart and my body too willingly. Oops, is this a public blog? Oh well, it happened, and I had a splendid time. I emerged with no diseases and with my heart intact. I think, if I had it to do over again, I'd have been nicer to some of the men, though. I think I was a bit mean sometimes. And frankly, stupid.

My first marriage was like a lifetime unto itself. It sure seemed long enough. I probably should have left far earlier. Well, I shouldn't have married in the first place. I suppose I could devote a whole blog entry on that one. Suffice it to say that we made a mistake, and we got out of it while we were both young enough to get over it.

Then I had a wonderful and brief interlude of "single life." I liked that.

I can't say I was ready to marry again when I met Eric. He was ready, though. He had sown his oats, also having emerged with no diseases, and miraculously, no previous marriages.

So I moved to Canada and married him. Became a mother. Moved clear across the country. Converted to Judaism. And here I am. (Did I mention I was a Catholic during my first marriage?)

I can honestly say that life seems to get better the older I get. When I was stuck in my first marriage, projecting in my mind my life over the next several years and several decades, I shuddered. Little did I know that I would find the courage to leave a "perfectly decent man" and go on to find the love of my life and eventually become a mother of a beautiful, smart, and captivating little girl. I suppose my ex husband, who was obsessed with the idea that I had to work any old shit job as long as the money came in, would be amazed that I went on to launch a career and at times made more money than my husband. (He's starting a new job in the new year and will make significantly more than me, so I'd better get my nose to the grindstone and get a promotion! Ha ha!)

Well, I suppose I should end this blathering and go upstairs to cuddle with my wonderful family. I'm sorry if I seemed to get gushy in this entry. It probably won't be the last time, either.