This is where I set the tone for the season.

In searching the archives of the old site, 2002 was the first time I attempted holidailies.  After failing miserably with NaNoWriMo, I tried to make myself feel better by ponying up to a smaller challenge:  daily entries for a month.  And then I’m pretty sure I failed that too.

In 2004 I tried again.  I had just broken up with Shawn.  I was on my own for the first time ever, living near Seattle, and even though that only lasted until April, when I moved to Canada, I was attempting to deal with my shit.

I’ve tried several times since then, I think I only completed all 20 goal entries once, maybe twice.

Now it’s 2009.  I am alone again, this time older and more aware of myself and my surroundings.  I have a son.  So the goal here is to post daily.  Every day.  From today until January 6.  (Incidentally, January 6 is my birthday.)  And technically the rules say I have to write 20 entries, so they do allow for some slacking off.  I don’t have high expectations for this Christmas.  I don’t have a lot of money, and I spend plenty of time trying to appreciate the silence of the phone not ringing and men not asking me out.  Honestly I spend a lot of time throwing myself a pity party in my head.  It’s the first holiday season.  I don’t think it’s going to be easy, or romantic, or even fun.

But it’s a big step, this first one.  It will show me that I can do it; that I will be alright.  While I know in my heart that everything will be okay, it’s nice to have some affirmation from the universe.

Tonight I couldn’t find the plug for the block heater in my car.  My husband always took care of that.  We had a garage, so I didn’t plug the car in.  And when the car had to be parked in front of the house?  He handled it.  He went outside in the wee hours of the morning and started the car.  Turned on the heater.  He scraped the windows.  He changed my oil.  He made sure I had tires that weren’t bald.

My father was a mechanic.  I say was not because he’s dead, but because he hasn’t worked as a mechanic in at least twenty years.  When he taught me to drive he made sure I knew how to change a tire.  I knew how to check all the fluids under the hood.  I changed my own oil.  He wanted to know that I would never depend on a man for these things.  I worked at a service station.  The old fashioned kind, where the attendants pumped your gas and plugged your tires.  Despite all this, I depended on a man.

I live in an apartment building.  I do not have covered parking.  I live on the third floor, which makes warming up the car with a three year old a challenge.  Do I take him down with me, turn the car on, and then convince him to go back upstairs while the car warms up?  What if it doesn’t start?  I got home tonight and had to plug it in.  The temp here is currently -24C, which is within the “plug your car in!” parameters.  I had no idea where to find the plug.  I popped the hood.  Fished around in the dark, searching frantically for the plug.

Meanwhile my son ran around the parking lot, just like those unsupervised kids that you look at as they run around in the parking lot, and you wonder, “what kind of neglectful parent just lets their kids run around in the parking lot like that?”  That was me tonight.  Because sometimes you just have to find the goddamn plug.  I didn’t find it.  I gave up and went upstairs, asking my friends for help.  My friends are lovely and wonderful, and one of them handed me the answer I needed.  I don’t like to depend on others.

I’m conflicted.

It’s time for an oil change.