Unknowingly under a ruse on a sunny January day, I accompanied Nick to Olbrich Gardens. He and I have never gone to Olbrich together, but he knew that the place held special memories for me.

Eventually finding a bench, he coaxed me to settle next to him. He asked how I felt, coming back to this mystical little garden in the heart of winter the first time without Mom. I told him that I was a little sad and a little happy because I felt her presence so strongly.

He seemed happy with that reply as he pulled a velvety box out of his coat pocket, telling me that he picked this place so that she could be there for this special moment. Flipping open the box, the ring glittered in the sunlight. At first I was speechless because it was all so unexpected, and I couldn't comprehend what was happening (but eventually I said yes!).

I feel very fortunate to have such a loving person in my life. I am thrilled to plan my future with Nick by my side, this person who seems to understand and anticipate my needs. I feel cherished!

I am not the type that sets goals as the new year begins. I remember when I started letting people know that I was first trying to lose weight, countless people wished me luck and named themselves faithful Monday dieters. I just think it's silly to put off your ambitions until a set date.

I signed up with a program through my HMO wherein I can get credit for working out at least 30 minutes a day. I did not realize that this program existed—I knew of programs where you get credit every time you sign in at your gym, but I was not aware of the options for people with home gyms. The program starts on the first day of the month after you sign up. Upon January first's arrival, I was poking around the Nike Plus site, looking for challenges to enter. I want to get my running feet back again.

I did what I consider a fantastic job with running in September and October last year. I will never be a fast runner, but I got to a point where any run less than six miles felt like I was slacking off. One Saturday at the beginning of October, I hopped on the treadmill and up and ran 10 miles. 10 miles, after just one month of training! With medical procedures in November and December, recovery time has stolen whatever stamina and strength I had built in those two months. I just keep telling myself that this is the love part of the love/hate relationship I have with my legs. In relatively little time, my strength will return.

I came across a challenge to run 1,000 miles in 2010. Now, I've always hated (as in, "with a passion") long-term assignments. However, the Nike Plus Challenges are a weird, binding contract with me. If I sign up, I have to perform. I knew that this would be a way for me to continue running throughout the year (instead of a random 5K here and there), as I will have to average just over 19 miles a week to meet my goal.

2009 was a year of fairly constant procedures. I was pretty open to whatever the doctors wanted to try, but this year I need to step back and just let my body fully heal. I don't know that many people can understand how liberating this decision feels. Last year, knowing all of the recovery that would be ahead of me, I could not have set such a lofty goal as to run 1,000 over the next 12 months.

Now, running inside for long distances is a drag—I should know, I ran 10 miles in a dingy basement! Plus, being that I was less than a month out from my last procedure and had been inactive for about six weeks, I told myself that the 19ish miles a week goal was an average. During September and October, I had weeks closer to 30 miles, so when the weather was nicer I could make up for these early weeks in a Wisconsin winter. Unfortunately, I am a bit driven when I have a number to fixate upon.

So much so, that I did something on Friday and Saturday that I thought I would never do, considering those who did insane enough to be locked up. I ran outside in 14°F weather, a day after it snowed. The sidewalks were a mess, and it was really a mix of running outside and running on a treadmill because every step I took would slip back as I tried to propel forward. Oh, and it was frickin' cold…but running outdoors again felt so good. During the first week of 2010, I made it 19.38 miles. Yay! Only 51 more to go.

So, I thought I would post my goal here for extra accountability. I can only imagine how thrilled I will feel this time next year when I accomplish this feat. 1,000 in 2010, baby!

We were on the road, coming home from a friend's house where we spent the night, when the sun rose this morning. The still morning was suddenly washed in amber streams, and I couldn't help but feel that 2010 was starting on a beautiful note.

My parents always made December 31st feel special. The traditions were simple when I think about them today, but me and my brother looked forward to that day every year. A bottle of sparkling grape juice, beef tenderloin, and poor man's lobster were always on the menu. We rented movies to play until midnight, and spread blankets on the floor in front of the television so that we could be on a picnic while enjoying our movie snacks.

I remember the close of 1999 so clearly with all the hype about the Y2K bug and imminent armageddon. I was a senior in high school, and I remember finding all of the talk absurd. I was not then, and really am not now, a Prince fan (or, the artist formerly known as Prince, as he was known in 1999), so you can imagine how irritating the constant reply of that one song was for me. What a ride the last ten years have been.

As 2002 approached, I made the decision to change my lifestyle. A serious chest pain scared my then 20-year-old self into reevaluating the eating and exercise habits that had learned throughout childhood. My mother had begun successfully losing weight the year before, and I suppose she gave me the "this is possible" drive to succeed.

At the end of 2004, I was visiting my parents from North Carolina. My brother had other plans that year, but for nostalgia's sake, Mom, Dad, and I dined on sparkling grape juice, beef tenderloin, and poor man's lobster. We watched sappy romance movies all night. I didn't know it then, but it would be the last New Year's Eve that I would spend with my mother.

The next year brought a lot of crappy surprises, and I move that it just be stricken from the record. I was getting a cold and my mother had a compromised immune system at the end of December, 2005. My aunts were celebrating the night elsewhere. Mom did not feel like going out, and Dad was at a neighbor's party. She and I spoke over the phone, each in our own empty homes. We were both ready to close the awful year, but it was such a lonely night. She said to me, and I'll never forget, "2006 will be much better for both of us."

In a way she was right. In January, she stopped suffering from that awful disease, and Heaven is her reward. I met Nick and started going about the business of living again, even though me and my aunts were plagued with weird illnesses all that year (and the time since). I guess it was a better year than the last, but Debbie still announced that she planned on drinking an entire bottle of Asti on New Year's Eve to send 2006 packing with a resounding "Goodbye and good riddance!"

The past few years have been busy with school and doctors, and 2009 slipped through my fingers. I couldn't help but make the comparison between last night and that night ten years ago. Sipping champagne with Nick and friends, confident in my power to take control of my life…the 18 year old had her parents and her traditions, but she really hadn't figured out herself yet. (It's just too bad that you can't have it all.)

I think 2010 holds a lot of promises. With the end of school less than a year away, I feel such excitement that at this time next year, I might have free time! I am grateful to still have a job and a roof over my head (which is no small feat in today's world), and I am thankful for the relationships I have with my family. I don't know if I have ever told them, but I couldn't have made it this far without my aunts in my corner. I had to work to build a better relationship with my father at first, but I now cherish our closeness.

And there's Nick. Our first date was New Year's Day, 2006. Four years later, I still wonder how I was able to find (and keep!) such a kind and loving person. He possesses a rare decency, and I am lucky to have him.

2010 can't help but go right.

As a kid, I remember the stack of plastic shapes that looked like bloated cassettes. Dad called them "8-tracks". They all had a picture of the same four boys with funny hair cuts. The favorite movie rentals from the local video store were their documentaries. Dad remembered seeing that famous Ed Sullivan show the day after his ninth birthday. I don't know if I have a strong memory from the ninth year of my life, but I am sure that I had had the chance to experience the Beatles that year, I would have remembered it too. I suppose that my interest was sparked merely because it was music that my father loved, and I loved my father—idolized him. I wanted to be just like Dad.

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Regardless of how it began, my interest in the band of all bands has only grown throughout the years. Back before there was a computer with an internet connection in every home, I connected with other Beatles fans my age through email, and we would write line after line of Beatlemania-ish dribble about their humor, their temperament, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, Yoko Ono, and the end. Unlike many other Beatles fans the world over, I've never wasted time hoping for a reunion. There were never four of them alive during my lifetime.

Yesterday marked the 29th anniversary of the day that John Lennon was murdered. Listening to the lyrics of his songs, one cannot help but wonder what other truths he would have uncovered through his music. I was living the dorms when George Harrison lost his battle with cancer back in 2001. The news hit me a lot harder than I expected. I am not the type to lose control of my emotions when famous people die. True, I've never been an MJ fan (my 1980s music experience was more "London Bridges" and the "ABC" song than they were modern pop). I have spent my life under the influence of the Beatles...losing George was like losing a friend. I think I listened to "My Sweet Lord", "Something", "While My Guitar Gently Weeps", and "Here Comes the Sun" about 50 times combined that weekend.

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I go in streaks with the level of my obsession. An eighth grade music appreciation course covered the Beatles in a unit that lasted an entire quarter. An extra credit question at the end of the test gave a point for every three Beatles songs we could name. I remember asking for a second sheet of paper to keep writing. I had at that time, spent my life studying for that test! It was around that time that I ensnared my cousin, Michelle, into the strange retro-world of the Beatles. I suppose I jabbered on so much about them that she was forced to read up on them just to figure out what the heck I was saying.

We would argue endlessly which half of their career was better (She preferred the former, I preferred the latter). Neither of her parents cared for the Beatles the way that my father did, so she had never been decently exposed to possibly the best music ever. It really didn't take much before she was scouring stores for posters to hang on her bedroom walls. She proclaimed one day that George was her favorite. At the time, I remember teasing her because the other three had much more obvious personality (Sorry George). As I have gotten older, I realize that while it isn't as flashy, there is something spectacular about the quiet, gentle type.

Her name is Michelle, and while she knew that her name was based on a combination of her parents' names (Michael and Ellen), she got it in her head that she was really named after the Beatles' song "Michelle". I told her that maybe her personality was chosen after the song "Fool on the Hill".

It was great having someone so close to my age interested in the Beatles. Dad and I watched and recorded on VHS The Beatles Anthology when it aired on television in 1995. I was excited to share the series with her, and she helped feed my natural obsession.

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I won the anthology book, and was gifted the DVD series later. When "Free as a Bird" came on the radio a few weeks ago, I sighed with a happy smile, "I remember when this was released!" Nick looked at me, confused. "YOU WEREN'T ALIVE WHEN THE BEATLES MADE MUSIC." Oh, but I was. Apparently everyone does not know that "Free as a Bird" was a demo recorded by Lennon in the 70's that Paul, George, and Ringo added their voices to and released in 1995.

Nick likes to irritate me. He tolerates the Beatles, but is not a fan. I know, that should be a deal-breaker right there, but I still have hopes that I can break him. It's harder when you don't get them young enough to mold. On road trips, I have my iPod playing. I probably have a couple hundred Beatles songs loaded (plus the hundreds of McCartney, Lennon, and Harrison solo songs that he groups into the same category), so they pop up often in the rotation which makes him fussy. He likes to say asinine things such as, "Who is John Lennon?" at which point I tell him that he is dead to me and find a song where John sings the lead to blast through the speakers.


When we were in the Keys a few years ago, there was a really great guitarist at Mallory Square. His voice was really folksy like Harry Chapin, and beside doing an awesome version of "Cat's in the Cradle", he played "Norwegian Wood". I typically don't like Beatles covers, but that guy did it justice. I looked over at Nick who said it sounded like Scandinavian pornography. Again, should be a deal-breaker. He up and dissed both the Beatles and Norwegians.

I feel the need to remind him of my merciless viking ancestry.

Naturally, the availability of remastered albums has caused my frenzy to return. I know it's silly to want to buy them since I have just all about all of the CDs, but I love this band. It's like having new music again.

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I was out walking at lunch time the other day at work, and my friend Sue asked what I listened to while I walk. I told her that lately I've been listening to the fab four. Sue is…well, she's older than my father, we'll put it that way. She said she never really liked the Beatles, but heard they are getting back together again. I told her that it really didn't seem likely since half of them are dead, but she made a point to search online for reunion information. She didn't find much because SHE SPELLED BEATLES WITH TWO E'S! I told her that I wouldn't be able to look at her for the rest of the day.

I guess I've been watching Beatles documentaries and anthologies for almost three decades, and have memorized the voice of John Lennon telling reporters, "I had a vision that a man came unto us on a flaming pie, and he said, 'You are Beatles with an A.' And so we were." That John, funny guy. Spell the band with an "A", please, or you will offend me.

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As for my father, he likes the early stuff, just like Michelle. They're all short, catchy, and have to do with love and happiness. I like the drawn out, moodier, introspective ones. I wonder if our tastes in music represent our personalities? Let's not think of that, shall we? I talk to him now and then about the Beatles, and I don't think that he has a clue how much his childhood favorite influenced my own music tastes. He worked a 4:00 AM to 12:00 PM shift when we were young, so me and my brother would only have to spend mornings with a babysitter, and I don't think he realizes that my love of music from the 60's and 70's is directly tied to those days in the cab of his pickup truck, listening to the Oldies while running errands and just hanging out with my Dad.