I have a philosophy in life.  I forget about it approximately 350 days per year, but occasionally, I remind myself to get back to loving simple things.  It's quite simple...if you get excited about the little stuff, you will get excited much more often.  And also, when the really big and really exciting things come along, well think how major that is! 

So here is the small thing that I'm HUGELY excited about today:

 

Yes.  It's true.  Your eyes do not deceive you.  It's FIRST SNOW DAY!  Hip Hip HOORAY!!!  I stole this photo from the newspaper, but it's legitimate photo of Winter Wonderland.  Let's not get tangled up with details, such as this photo comes from Alta Ski Resort, and in no way does my neighborhood even remotely resemble this picturesque scene.  But we had a skiff of snow this morning, and for that, I am just beside myself with happiness.

Now.  Let's get down to the heart of the matter.  I love snow.  Love, love, love it.  But there is a little bit more to this story.  The First Snow Day of the Year also indicates several other magnificent milestones, not THE LEAST of which is this:

As far as I'm concerned, I can't make this photo BIG ENOUGH! 

Every year, I have a contest with myself to see exactly how many days after Halloween it takes for my neighborhood Starbucks to bust out with the red cups.  The busier locations are usually doling out the Christmas Cheer by November 1st, but a few lag.  For shame.

Personally, I like to celebrate Election Day by stopping at every Starbucks in town until I find one who is using The Red Cup.  After I have voted, of course.  Election Day is certainly one of my favorite days of the year, I can never quite decide if I love it more because of the red cup, or because I adore politics and I love, love, love the feeling of being involved and caring and taking part in the process that makes our whole country go 'round.  

So, dear friends, here is to celebrating the small stuff...the coming of the holiday season, the fact that we can all finally bust out our sweaters, scarves and ear muffs, the fact that it's soup-eating season, and the fact that we can stop feeling guilty for staying inside all weekend instead of getting out to mow the lawn and pick up the presents that the dogs leave in the grass.  It's a glorious day indeed!

I am a HUGE DORK.

Knitting is the epitome of dorkdome, I have always thought.  I mean, how many genuinely cool things can you knit?  An afghan?  Fifty million scarves?  Fifty million and one cat scarves/cat beds/cat blankets/cat ear muffs?  Yes, I have been there.  Knitting is definitely a Grandma Habit.

BUT I LOVE IT.  I really do.  I love knitting.  And granted, I have knitted a lot of scarves.  And a ridiculous number of the aforementioned scarves/beds/blankets/ear muffs for Mother's Most Precious Barclay O'Neil.  But I still love it.  Somehow, relaxing at the end of the day, creating something simple and warm and brightly colored is very rewarding.  Some day, I'll get good enough that I'll be able to create cute things, such as these CUTE AS ALL GET OUT mittens...

Sampson O'Neil.

I ran across this photo and thought I'd post it, just for fun.  This is my puppy Sam.  We were out on the boat, I think you can probably tell from his expression that he wasn't really enjoying it much.  If he didn't have spotty fur, you might see that he was a little green around the gills.  I'm not sure that he's much of a boat rider. 

Sambo was a rescue puppy.  He came to live with us when he was about four months old.  He had been abused, one of his legs had been broken and never fixed.  At first, he was a little stand-offish and had some aggressive tendencies.  But it's true what they say about rescue pets.  I swear he remembers his old life and loves us even more because of it.  He grew into a dog who is totally devoted to us.  You will never find a dog who is more loving and snuggly.  He is obsessed with love, whether it's the middle of the night or not. 

Around our house, Sam is a busy guy.  In another life, he was a sheep herder so it's pretty hard for him to sit still.  He's busy all the time, chasing cats, playing with a soccer ball that never leaves his side, or barking at the neighbor three miles down the road who sneezed.  Those of our neighbors who have met him love him to pieces (except, of course, the child that he bit one day.  But I secretly gave him permission to do so because the kid is a brat.  I bear partial responsibility for that.) 

My Job. You Gotta Love It.

Once upon a time, there was me.  I was sitting in my chair, as I do every day, when my phone rang.

BETHANY:  This is Bethany.
EMPLOYEE:  Bethany.  This is XXXX.  I'm hurt.
BETHANY:  Uh-oh.  How bad is it?
EMPLOYEE:  Well.  It's pretty bad.  I mean, it's really hurting a lot. 
BETHANY:  Okey doke.  What happened?
EMPLOYEE:  Well, I was just sitting here at my desk and a rubber band snapped on my eyeball.
BETHANY:  A rubber band.  Snapped on your eye ball. 
EMPLOYEE:  Yup.  It was wrapped around a tight bunch of mail and the next thing you knew, bam.  It snapped in my eye.
BETHANY:  Oh.  Okay.  Well.  Do you need to see a doctor?
EMPLOYEE:  Well, it happened about five minutes ago.  It's gotten dramatically better in the last minute or two.  But I figure I might need to see a doctor, later on down the road.  Just in case.
BETHANY:  So you are saying I should file a workers' comp. claim for you?
EMPLOYEE:  Yeah.  If you wouldn't mind.  I just don't like to take chances with my eye.

Please note that this conversation, recorded verbatim for your pleasure, is one hundred percent accurate.  At no point did I say "Is this some type of joke?"  Nope.  That's why I'm so good at my job.  I never, ever laugh at people. 

The End.

Hello, Insomnia. My name is Bethany O'Neil.

4:31.  That's what the clock said this morning when I woke up.  The following is a list of the thoughts marching through my head:

• Oh my Todd.  I have 10 days (including weekends) to complete the Form 5500 for the 401(k) plan at work.  PANIC.  I don't even know what the eff is on a 5500.
• Maria Cabrera.  Ye Gods.  Maria Cabrera still doesn't have health insurance due to some clerical error that originated sometime around March (when I was not employed, mind you.)  Must fix that immediately.
• I have about 6 inches worth of filing that really, really needs to be done.
• Ack!  Did I remember to send those training records????? 

Etc. etc.  

Apparently, some part of my body found this panic soothing because...

6:19.  Oh hello again, little bright numbers.  This time, I just got up.  I might as well go to work and get paid for my craziness.

So I got to work early and proceded to get completely swallowed by tasks that will inevitably take up my whole day and I'll wake up tomorrow morning, having a panic attack about Maria Cabrera.   Again.  And if it's not about Maria, it will inevitably be about the Drug and Alcohol Testing program that I am supposed to be compiling.  Good Lord.  This job is not good for my mental health.  

And yet...here I am.  Blogging away.  I love irony.