2012: The Year Unreviewed

Every week, I meet a friend for coffee at a shop near my house. Every week, she says, “What have you been doing?”

Every week, I pause and say, “I can’t remember.”

Memories (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Then I ask her the same question and she can’t remember what she did either.

We’ve agreed not to worry about our mutual amnesia. It doesn’t prevent us from conversing for the next two or three hours. And, all things considered, it isn’t surprising that nothing outstanding springs to mind. We have rich internal lives, but otherwise, our days do tend to swamp together once they’re past.

Oops. I just stopped and re-read the previous paragraph and realized it could herald the start of a downhill slide straight into a maudlin mire. Sort of like an inverse fiscal cliff.

But no. Here’s what I’m getting at: I intended to look back on 2012, capture its high points, before moving on. But suddenly my mind is a blank.

I didn’t keep a journal. The closest thing I have to a record of the year is this blog, and the problem there is–well, you know how I exaggerate. And you might have noticed I was absent for long stretches; that leaves some big holes in the narrative. I could elaborate, but I’ll say simply that I was not lying on the beach at Cannes, no was I in a mountain cabin finishing the Great American Novel. More’s the pity.

I’ll also say a sincere Thank you to those who kept on visiting here when I was neither reading nor writing, and also when I was writing but not answering mail. As Polly Pepper would say, you are all bricks.

(Fifty years after meeting Polly Pepper [my mother read Phronsie Pepper to me when I had the chickenpox and the measles in rapid succession], I (tonight) looked up you’re a brick and discovered it started, possibly, with King Lycurgus of Sparta describing his soldiers. It’s amazing what one can find to distract one from one’s purpose.)

This post is beginning to sound like one of those afternoons at the coffee shop, so I will end it. The waiters tolerate meandering because the shop is nearly empty, and because upon leaving we tip well. I don’t expect readers, who receive no gratuity at all, to mosey along for what’s likely to be a dead end.

So. I wish you a happy, healthy 2013.

Talk to you next year.


P.S. Regarding the photo above. That is exactly what I look like when I’m trying to remember what I did last week. Right down to the big black eyes, long black lashes, and dimpled elbow.

15 thoughts on “2012: The Year Unreviewed

    1. If I forget to make notes, and can’t remember the year, I’ll make something up. Could be fun. Have a Happy 2013 with all those grandchildren (and children, too).


    1. That’s exactly what I need! This year, I’ll make notes as I go along. Thanks so much for visiting and commenting. I hope you have a most happy 2013!


  1. Have a great New Year with lots of coffee conversation….it is important to visit with friends and to share whatever or nothing….meandering around is an art.


    1. Happy New Year to you, too. I love coffee conversation, but online conversations and friendships are very special. I look forward to meandering through 2013 with you.


  2. I mark stuff on my wall calendar, and thus can reconstruct some things, like doctor appointments, days I meet you for coffee and writing stuff, when bills are due, etc. My handwriting (scribbling) is not the greatest. For instance, I had something in a calendar block that looked like “paid capon.” Paid a capon? I haven’t eaten capon in 40 years. Then, upon squinting and more deciphering, I saw it was “paid Capital One.” So, that kind of thing makes my life seem more interesting than it is:)


    1. So for an interesting life, I should get a calendar? I’ll buy one at the first opportunity. Actually it was a calendar that got me confused. Go figure.


  3. Happy New Year, Kathy: what would life be without a Texan perspective on things? Thanks for another great year. May we shadow many more together: and maybe, in the future, lies a book, by you, signed inside the flyleaf, for me. I hope so. One should be allowed to gush at New Year; and I do think your writing is absolutely wonderful.


    1. Kate, if there’s ever a book, your copy will be at the top of the stack. You’ve buoyed me up time after time, as well as entertained and informed me. And given me a view of your country and people that I treasure. Thank you for your kind words and for shadowing and reading. I’ll be waiting for your book as well–or for whatever grand literary surprise you have in store for us.


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