I am doomed for the New Year. I forgot to eat my blackeyed peas today. But I have to say, I don't think I've ever missed a year, and I've had some years that have just sucked to high heaven. Maybe it's time to tempt fate a little bit. Maybe I didn't eat them because I wasn't home, but I was just informed that they were at the party we went to this afternoon, so I have no excuse. As usual, my ADD self didn't notice half of what was served--I just took in the vague impression "lots of food."

I couldn't believe that Rutledge managed to stay up until midnight last night. That's not entirely correct, actually, He went to bed around 8, but then woke up again at 11:30 and came downstairs and watched the ball drop with us. Frances had all the best intentions of staying up, but she was down by 9. The rest of us worked on the four model rockets for the launch today, built half of an Erector "Battering Ram" carnival ride (with the nifty power-tool that came with our one set), played Blokus, and watched a marathon of shows on the History channel about Instruments of Torture. All in all, it was our traditional New Years Eve.

This morning we had to be up and functional too early to go to an annual model rocket launch. Last year our record for 2 for 2 in losing rockets. This year went much better. I think it portends well for our luck in the new year. The first rocket we launched was our "safe" rocket--the big shiny one that didn't claim high altitude. It had a lovely flight, then descended beautifully right into the top of a very, very tall tree, where it hung by its shock cord, taunting me for the rest of the morning. The second one was the pencil, and it also went up rather nicely. Then the nose cone completely separated from the body of the rocket, which came down without incident. The nose cone, however, carried aloft by a merciless wind, sailed off with its orange and yellow parachute over the trees, over the top of the Morningside Assisted Living facility, and into the great unknown. Three times...three times I picked through every piece of landscaping at Morningside, and I interviewed an elderly resident who was sitting outside and claimed to have seen no parachuting nose cones, but all to no avail. I must declare that rocket a loss. Our third rocket, which we dubbed "The Duct Tape Express" because it fell apart before it even started its flight, came down separated from its nose cone as well, but all was recovered. It went on to have two or three flights, but by the time all were done, its fragile build had suffered fatal wounds; it should not fly again. Our fourth, The Gnome, was extremely tiny and performed much better than expected. Alas, the greater Richmond area seems to be experiencing a model rocket engine shortage, especially of the smallest multi-stage A engines, so we only had an engine for one flight. It returned home ready to perform another day.

All in all, our record stands at 50% for today (25% if you count that the Hi Flier has made its final flight). Next year I predict a 75% success rate. I sense we're on a roll.

Lunch was spent with friends at their house. It was without incident. And I learned there what I will spend my B&N gift card on: the Twilight trilogy. I've never been a fan of vampire books, but non-vampire genre readers have insisted that it is a must-read they never would have suspected. And who would not be intrigued by LDS bloodsuckers? I can't wait to go out tomorrow morning to take care of this errand!

Immediately after, we headed to another New Year's party at another friend's house. This one was in Woodlake, and we met one of our newer neighbors and were able to swap stories about our favorite ill-spirited dog-walkers here. This couple is inexplicably hateful, and when they aren't actively pissing me off, I really do feel sorry for them because something awful must have happened in their life to make them so unpleasant and unable to just live and let live. They're the type of people who feel they must walk around with a notebook and take notes on all of the real and potential covenant violations at every house in the neighborhood, who scowl and refuse to say hello when you pass them, and who pointedly inform you as they go by that whatever you are doing is displeasing to them or not allowed. My children quake in their shoes when they see Mr. S. and his Westie. This party had more food than I think I've seen just about anywhere, and the kids had a great time running around outside in the freezing cold weather with their friends Jackson, Adam, Grant, and a collection of new faces. Frances had a whole girl posse to play with. And Rutledge was, as usual, loudly protesting the unfairness of being treated as if he was, well, three. The fellow gets absolutely no respect. He is a big boy (Sissy told him so!), and yet no one will let him have a fair turn with the Wii, no matter where he goes. We heard about that loud and clear, in a style that can only be described as Three-Year-Old-Up-Past-Midnight.

I am going to have to wait until tomorrow for any kind of cogent Year in Review kind of post or any serious resolution making. It has officially been 2009 for 24 hours now, and I am ready to spent the next ten hours or so sleeping!