So. As I said, I'm not giving up on doing things that require me to be independently mobile in 2009, so you don't need to reassure me on that front. (And, in fact, reassurances are likely to get a skeptical eyebrow rather than warm thanks, because you don't, in fact, know when these things will be possible for me, and I'd rather not hear a hearty, "Surely you'll be back to your old normal by such-and-such!" when in fact it's entirely possible that I won't.) This is just the stuff we know I can do in theory. Stuff the vertigo can't rule out completely, even if it sticks around at current levels. Stuff. Yah.
1. Finish revisions to What We Did to Save the Kingdom.
2. Finish draft of The True Tale of Carter Hall.
3. Start another book: Deportees? The Water Castle? The Winter Wars? Eleven Names for Home? Something else completely?
4. loyalorvokki project, dammit.
5. Finish "Pillars of Salt and String" and "The Radioactive Etiquette Book" and "The Curvature of Every Disorder." (By this point in my career, "submit stuff" is on the list with "brush teeth" and "clean fingernails": stuff you just do.)
6. Finish "The Witch's Second Daughter" and "Twelve Things You Don't Know About Dryads" for the people they belong to.
7. Write a completely new short story from scratch.
8. Record podcast of "Singing Them Back" as promised to great-aunt, albeit now late. See whether that drives me nuts. See whether anybody listens.
9. Learn three of the Scarlatti sonatas and one of the Bach French Suites. (Piano music for Christmas FTW.)
10. Get larger loaf pans and figure out a sandwich and French toast bread recipe that suits all inhabitants of this house. If necessary, figure out these recipes as separate entities. Somebody else will have to handle the oven stuff, probably. That's okay.
11. Learn how to make lamb shahi korma that tastes like we want it to. There are a million lamb shahi korma recipes out there, which makes it harder in some ways and easier in others.
12. Perfect buttermilk biscuits. Deal with horrible fate of having to eat imperfect biscuits along the way. Wailie woe.
13. Try substituting mango into Yucatan chicken recipe. Cogitate on results.
14. Paella! It is time.
15. Figure out chocolate-strawberry cookie idea.
16. Take markgritter to Lucia's.
17. Take timprov to Rainbow.
18. Continue to do our best to keep Rice Paper and Pumphouse Creamery in business singlehandedly.
[not-19. We are going to Restaurant Alma to celebrate when I am done with PT. It had better still be in business then.]
19. Try at least four new-to-us restaurants. (This number is probably low, but so is the short story from scratch number, so.)
20. Try all types of hot chocolate and tisane in the pantry at least once each. Find suitable homes for less Mrissish types of hot chocolate and tisane.
21. Put Project Food Safari outings on the calendar promptly after each one. The good food is only half the point here; meshing busy schedules takes work, and it's been work well invested so far.
22. Take Robin to live children's theater. He really liked the last one, and it was frankly not much good. Think how much he'd love a really good one.
23. Take markgritter to live grown-up theater. NB: not the same as "adult theater," so no gnr-gnr-gnr-ing, this is not that kind of list.
24. Take timprov to rock shows and/or folk concerts.
25. Take parental types to rock shows and/or folk concerts. Possibly with timprov.
26. Have lunch at the zoo with V again. Possibly add small people or parental types.
27. Look into Landscape Arboretum possibilities with vertigo.
28. Read Simon Schama's big fat history of Britain series.
29. Read the Tony Hillerman series. Find and devour another long good mystery series. (You know how some people complain that SF is too long compared to mystery? I think one of the things they're not looking at is that mystery makes us look like pikers for long good series. We've got, what, Steve and Lois? For the long series that are really good, I mean. And they've got everybody they've got, nearly. What I'm saying is, I don't think we can argue that mystery writers aren't telling long stories, because they are, they're just breaking them up differently.)
30. Catch up on Numb3rs.
31. Find another series to love while biking indoors hanging on for dear life.
33. Fourth Street.
NOTE: These two are the only conventions I can guarantee I will attend this year. If you want to see me at a convention, this is what I've got. If there's a Minn-StF fallcon, I'll almost certainly go to that. Anything else is subject to health considerations, and to family travel considerations if the vertigo takes a hike like it's supposed to.
34. Begin basement finishing.
35. Have kitchen painted Roasted Pepper.
36. Have bedroom painted Polar Bear. (!!!!! Can you believe the color I want is called Polar Bear? This is going to be the best thing ever. Of course the people who made it have never looked at an actual polar bear up close, even for zoo values of up close, but never mind that; the blackened streaks that show up when I roast peppers are unlikely to be featured prominently in our kitchen walls, either.)
37. Look into color for hall/stairs. By which I mean, select specific pale blue.
38. Frame more artwork and hang, particularly two large photos by timprov.
39. Use more of markgritter's spice garden when summer comes.
40. Have at least one tree planted on our property.
41. Make charitable donations earlier this year. Last year was rough for a lot of people. Even if they recover this year, it won't be instantaneous.
42. Keep eye on Good Neighbors with Sick Kiddo. Commit soup or lasagna when prudent.
43. Ask for help when it would be a good thing to do so.