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Happy New Year! I’ve got a good feeling about 2010. There’s just something so balanced and wholesome about the sound of it… so balanced and wholesome that I’ve decided to make a few tentative New Year’s resolutions for the first time in many moons. I realize “tentative resolution” may sound like an oxymoron, but I fear commitment and “resolution” has a finality that scares me. I say keep ‘em tentative; much better to write in pencil than in permanent marker.

I have only three rules for these quasi-reso-whatevers:

1. They must be fun.
2. They must be flexible.
3. They must not inspire guilt.

That is all. In other words, I will only aim for goals that make happy, I will change my fickle mind any time I like and I will not starve myself to lose 30 pounds by bikini season (HA, it’s always bikini season here so that’s just silly).

Resolution #1: Get Scuba Certified

I’ve talked about this one for a long time, and I’m both exhilarated and apprehensive about the idea of exploring the depths of the big bad ocean.

Pros: seeing incredible marine life, reefs and even shipwrecks. Cons: The movie “Open Water.” Since I refused to see “Open Water” under any circumstances, the pros win.

All reservations aside, there is absolutely no better time to take the plunge (tee hee). I live in Hawaii, which is surrounded by some of the most beautiful dive spots in the world, and the Marine Corps Base 15 minutes away is offering a winter special for $159 per person. It would be crazy not to do it. Brian and I paid our fees today, and we start classes Monday. You’re mine, ocean.

What are your fun goals for 2010? More of mine to come…

Many of you have asked me about these recently, so I feel that it’s my duty to share them with the world.

These are the basic rules to what can only be described as the greatest drinking game of all time. Now before you get all preachy on me about how drinking games are juvenile and contribute to unhealthy habits, hear me out. It’s called Dawson’s Drink, and it’s based around the best angsty teen television series EVER, “Dawson’s Creek.” (If you disagree with that last statement, we can clearly not continue our friendship. Move along now.) Yes, the dialogue is ridiculous, the clothes are atrocious (I was sooo much more stylish in 1997), the acting is shaky, and yet it creates the perfect storm of hilarity and drama and genuine entertainment. In other words, it is the ideal canvas on which to paint a masterpiece drinking game.

My brilliant friends and I came up with it one hot and humid night in New Orleans last year, and it has evolved beautifully as we add new players and progress through the series.

Don’t wait. Go play Dawson’s Drink right now.

The Number One Rule:

Every player must choose one of the four main characters (Dawson, Joey, Pacey and Jen)– it’s OK if more than one player is assigned to each character. Every time that character says something no teenager would ever say, drink. New players must be Dawson at least once during their first game. *As other pivotal characters are introduced to the cast (Andie, Jack, etc.), feel free to add them to the mix.

You must also drink when:

• Anyone wears mom jeans
• There is a Steven Spielberg reference
• There is an allusion to Dawson’s future career as a famous filmmaker
• Jen’s grandmother calls someone by their full Christian name (Jennifer, Josephine, etc.)
• Jen’s grandmother brings up God or Jesus
• There is a reference to Jen’s sordid past in New York
• Joey climbs in or out of Dawson’s bedroom window
• Dawson’s parents are getting it on
• Pacey awkwardly tries to hit on girls
• There is an episode clearly ripped off from a movie plot (for example: “The Breakfast Club” or “The Blair Witch Project” episodes)

Optional rules (warning: these happen really frequently). Drink when:

• Joey makes that terrible smirk/pout/grimace/constipation face
• Someone is in a boat
• Someone is gazing pensively out at the water

Bonus rules for the true Dawson’s aficionado (these are from Mr. Chuck Alexander, whose pop culture prowess is damn near unbeatable):

• There is a stipulation that a two-thirds majority can vote to make the Pacey Designate drink whenever he actually says something a teenager would say (a good time to put this rule into effect is mid-Season 1 post-Ms. Jacobs hookup, pre-Andy McPhee).
• For Season 2 (though only Season 2 as they manage to drop this aspect of his character after the evil English teacher makes him out himself to the whole school by reading his poem aloud), drink any time Jack does something clumsy or mentions how clumsy he is.
• Any episode featuring Cliff:  a mandatory group drink any time he does or says something creepy (this also applies later to Michael Pitt’s character Henry, who is so creepy that I genuinely believe he collects dead squirrels).

I hope this inspires you to bring the wonder of Dawson’s Drink to your next party. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own rules in the comments section below!

It’s official. Brian and I live in Hawaii, and so do all our worldly possessions. After being in limbo for so many months and shuttling from one end of the country every few weeks, it is such a relief to be here. And plan to stay here. Well, I will stay here; Brian ships off for Southeast Asia next week for the last half of his ship’s deployment.

It’s bittersweet, finally arriving in our much-anticipated new home and then having to be separated again, but we’re making the most of the two weeks we have together. And by “making the most” of it, I mean, spending far too much money on closet organizers and home electronics and trying not to be crushed in our sleep by the walls of boxes surrounding us.

Terrifying, isn’t it?

It’s a little overwhelming to unpack and organize tons (literally; the moving guys told me our stuff weighed 4,600 lbs.) of clothes and papers and kitchen gadgets, but I can’t complain. We live in Hawaii. I don’t know if I get to complain ever again (who am I kidding? I totally will, but I’ll have a better view while I’m whining).

Yesterday when I got off work, we drank a beer, walked to Kailua Beach (15 minutes from our apartment), swam laps in 80-degree water and ate risotto at the Italian restaurant around the corner. Somehow, I think we’ll be able to deal with a little manual labor.

I’ll give a more extensive update later, but here are our first few days via my Twitter soundbites:

We made it to Hawaii! Slept like bebes on the couch cushions that make up our bed till our furniture arrives. Errands and painting today.

I have never been more excited to go hardware and houseware shopping. If we can find chalkboard paint today, I’ll be a happy girl.

We just bought basil, rosemary & tomato plants, green bean and chili pepper seeds & a compost bin. I am determined to grow a green thumb.

Mmm… in desperate need of beer and burgers. Goin’ over to meet some folks at Matt and Heather’s place.

Walking to Kailua Beach to test out the waters. Loving this weekend.

Screw the gym. I am going to swim in the ocean every day for as long as we live here. I’m not even fazed by the jellyfish sting on my arm.

Crashing after a long day of spending too much money and drinking too much wine.

Really, previous renter? Lime green contact paper? For shame.

Tired and content after a long day of unpacking and an incredible dinner at the Japanese place around the corner.

There is something seriously wrong when the Internet I’m stealing from my neighbors works and the one I’m paying for doesn’t.

So I guess Kailua is on a New Orleans schedule for afternoon rain every day at 3:00. No thunder so far, though.

Rocking out to some Amos Lee and getting super excited for the concert in Honolulu tomorrow! And drinking a lot of coffee.

The screaming baby upstairs is serving as extra birth control in case I needed it.

It’s only 10 a.m. and I already want a beer. It’s after noon almost everywhere else.

Pandora isn’t loading well today, so I’m streaming Bay Area radio. KFOG and Alice @ 97.3. Sounds like home.

Afternoon rain, I love you. Thank you for saving the lives of my plants. They really appreciate it.

Because of that title, Brian is probably going to read this post right away (if so, “Hi, honey”). I would. Curiosity always gets the best of me. And luckily, I’m not one of those people who thinks the groom should have absolutely no idea what the bride’s wedding dress looks like. Having some mystery and excitement around the dress if fun, but seeing a piece of fabric on a mannequin and seeing it on me on the wedding day are two very different things. At least I hope so because otherwise, I would be missing some critical body parts that would make walking down the aisle very tricky.

Anyway, here are recent pictures of Kaila’s masterpiece (thanks for taking them, Kathleen!):

Action shot. Doesn’t it look like Kai is practicing how she’s going to booty dance with me at the reception? I am a LADY, Kaila!

Hey, eyes up here, everyone. Jeez. 

It’s getting pretty real. T- 11 days…

I’ve got plenty to write about at the moment, but with the holidays and only 15 days until our wedding (the ewedding.com site tells me tauntingly every time I sign in), blogging just sounds like another item on my frightening to-do list. I’m so Jessie Spano on caffeine pills: There’s no time! There’s never any time!

I’m not the crazy Bridezilla sobbing in the corner because she can’t get the caterers to fold the napkins into tiny origami swans. I’m the burnt-out girl who is tired of spreadsheets and has decided maybe she’s done enough planning. We will have a ceremony in a real church with a real priest, we have guaranteed there will be food, booze and music for the entire reception and we’re 98.5 percent sure all family members/wedding party attendants will show up clean, sober and on their best behavior. Everything else is just gravy.

Bri and I started a new spreadsheet in our Google doc of terror called “Current To-Do List,” which now houses all the random tasks we still need to handle. The most satisfying part of my day is using the strikethrough  to cross of completed items. Best. Thing. Ever.

I have learned some interesting tidbits while working through the to-do list:

• You know when the newly married couple jumps into a Rolls Royce or a horse and carriage (maybe more in New Orleans than in other places) and rides away from the church? That shit is expensive! I called Royal Carriages, what Google tells me is the only game in town, and the guy told me for 30 minutes it would be $325! Oh, but it includes a driver in a tux and a white carriage, so it’s cool. And it’s not even a horse pulling the carriage; it’s a mule. The classic car would be $485 for a two-hour minimum, so if we wanted to skip dinner and drive around town, it would be perfect.

• I can’t find anywhere in New Orleans that recycles wine bottles. The city has never been very green, but since the storm, it’s been really difficult to find recycling. The city doesn’t offer it yet, but Chuck and I have been using Phoenix Recycling at our place since I moved back. It’s been great, but recently it announced it can no longer accept glass because the Recycling Foundation of Baton Rouge can’t find markets for all the glass it takes in. I’ve been researching other recycling programs in NOLA but can’t find any that take green or brown glass (the Tulane glass studio will accept clear glass). I’m pretty sure we will be consuming a fair amount of wine at the reception, and I hate to throw bottles away. Does anyone know of an alternative option in the city?

• Good babysitters are hard to find when hardly any of your friends have children. We’ve sent out a few emails to the few friends who do have kids, asking for recommendations, but we haven’t had any luck so far. We need a couple of sitters who can handle 10+ chillen during the reception and help out with the nieces and nephews during the rehearsal dinner. If you know anyone who would be good,  I will buy you a bottle of wine or a jug of sangria, whichever you prefer.

• Enlisting help from family and friends is an awesome idea. Brian’s parents are organizing the rehearsal dinner at Mandina’s, my mom was a huge help in selecting the music and readings for the ceremony, my dad has been trying to dig us up a classic car through his automotive connections, Melia is pitching in on a bunch of mundane tasks I don’t feel like doing, Chuck is updating the RSVP list while I’m out of town (into categories of “people who love Gill” and “people who don’t love Gill”), Kaila is slaving away finishing my dress, the bridesmaids bought their bridesmaidy things months ago and are now focusing on keeping me relatively sane… And even more of our peeps will be bending over backwards to help us in the next few weeks. Much appreciated. Y’all are fabulous.

• Our pre-cana instructors are certifiable. Seriously. We’ve decided the lessons and their responses are less Catholic and more born-again Christian. Under no circumstances should any of you take pre-cana through Catholic Marriage Preparation, Inc. (and yes, that is the real name). Stay tuned for a post on our lessons covering contraception and why the Church trumps conscience and common sense.