My mom bought me a necklace for Christmas, a gift I selected on my own. One portion has Chinese characters. The other has the English translation: Happiness.

I chose that necklace because I thought it might remind me of what’s important. My own happiness. I lose that sometimes. I lose it in the small things, like worrying. Usually about things I can’t even control.

Like the guy who tailed me down Boston today. Or the woman who stood behind me in line for coffee yesterday, hovering mere milimeters from my back with her purse jabbing me in the hip. Or the guy at work who has his cell phone set to some ridiculous tune, which wouldn’t be a big deal if it didn’t go off every 15 minutes.

I waste a lot of energy on sweating the proverbial small stuff. I also send my blood pressure sky-rocketing in those instances. Or at least I imagine I do.

I’d like to find a little peace with myself. To become comfortable with me. To get to the point where losing the manual for my camera doesn’t freak me out and have me ripping apart every drawer in my office. That would be happiness, I tell ya.

Where, oh where, does that calming, relaxing center of my being reside? It’s in there somewhere. Finding it isn’t my new year’s resolution. It’s my life’s ambition. But if I find it in 2006, it’ll be my best year yet!

The anal part of me is really perturbed that the rug pad is peeking out from under there

I really hope that y’all had a wonderful Christmas and a happy start to Hannukah! (And any other holidays out there since the all-inclusive “happy holidays!” is such a sore point this year.)

Four days off to spend with my family was the best gift really.

My kid seemed quite pleased with the festivities and my husband made a really great pizza. So all is good.

But barely!

My child’s fierce and ferocious entry into full-fledged toddlerhood would just happen to coincide with the timeframe when I was tending to him solo, wouldn’t it?

To be honest, he was a very good boy. His temper tantrums are living large, though, and I was stressed out by a number of other factors: DIRTY house, DEMANDING client, LATE-RETURNING husband, and the fact that I was unable to get started on my holiday decorating. Oh, there’s more I’m sure. Once one little thing sets me off, you’d think my whole life was falling apart. I’m a drama queen, after all.

Although my house is still a pigsty and my decorations are still firmly packed in their boxes, my husband did eventually make it in the front door and I hunkered down (resentfully) and finished the copy for the d*mn brochure. Grumble, grumble, grumble.

So semi-peaceful conditions now reign in the household, to be broken only by the sound of the vacuum when I return home this evening. And any ranting and raving that may erupt if I get another email about the d*mn brochure. (Word to the wise: DON’T chose a career as a copywriter!)

This is what happens when you let some guy you work with take your camera and snap some pics. What was I thinking? There were beer glasses galore — and plenty of people drinking from them. And I hand over my baby? Not smart on my part. Still, I like this shot. Since I’m not keen on photos of myself, this one’s ideal. Blurred and mysterious. The image I love to portray.

Hitchin’ a ride on the Avis shuttle

Back from another business trip. Long Island again. No, I’m not jaded, but it’s not like I got to hang out and enjoy the quaint towns of the island. I was workin’, man. And it was really tiring this time around. Plus, I kept moping about being away from my kid. It just wasn’t all that much fun. Especially when I had to drag my butt out of bed at 4:55 this morning so we could get to LaGuardia in time for our flight. Yawn.

Along Ionia Street

Labor Day is supposed to be about NOT working, but, as a freelancer, I sometimes have to make sacrifices. That’s how I found my way to downtown GR yesterday afternoon for a meeting with Gwen and Dottie. I purposefully arrived early so I could snap some shots of the area while I walked around. I used to work in the city for a couple of years, but I’ve been absent for the most part since then. It’s not that downtown is hoppin’, but there’s certainly a spark. And there are scads of renovated, classical buildings with plenty of lovely ornamentation.

Yesterday the tyke was puking his little guts out. The result was a trip to the ER to get some assistance and rehydration — in the form of a yummy slushie. Today he’s clearly back to himself. And he discovered that slushies don’t just come from hospitals. They also come from gas stations near Breton Village where they sell yummy ice cream sundaes and blue-raspberry slushies.

Hitting the playground after Mommy got her ice-cream fix

The whole clan (well, minus the cats) walked over together

Lincoln Logs at the Grand Rapids Children’s Museum

I “heart” my new lens

Snapped at the Lena Meijer Children’s Garden

I come from a family of farmers. Well, my grandpa farmed. And his brothers. And his nephews. And now my uncle is his sole child who’s pursued the work of the earth. (Luckily his youngest son is also following that path.) It’s an honorable way to make a living, but a very difficult one. I suppose that’s why so many farm families give it up and sell their land.

That’s what happened all around my uncle’s property. There are new homes popping up everywhere. He used to view unending fields of corn and other crops from his backyard. Now he can’t even bear to spend time on the patio where we always gathered for family picnics. The newly contructed homes he sees from that spot remind him every day about the way the world is changing.

So this time around the lawn chairs were set up near the garage, under a mulberry tree, where we faced his still-active fields of corn. The grills, manned by my cousin Tracy, produced burgers, ribs and hotdogs. The aunts and uncles produced creamy macaroni, simmered baked beans and potato salad (and, thanks to Aunt Nancy, s’mores!).

Horseshoes, baseball, sidewalk chalk and four-wheeling were the activities of choice. It was a perfect summer day on a lovely four-day weekend. Wish we could have stayed for the bonfire, but my little guy tuckered himself out exploring the place.