Hahn at Home in Review 2007

Jan
2008

Hot:

Pondering a year is tougher than it looks, but at least I have the blog to help me remember, because in my middle-age muddle, I often can’t remember where I left my keys or my own birthday these days. Hopefully, you all had a good 2007 and have great things coming in 2008!

In January, I reminisced about getting myself into trouble in my younger days when I couldn’t seem to date one person at a time. And, I was still replacing things from the break-in in November.
In February I lamented the fact I might end up like Murphy Brown having lost the first assistant I hired after six days. And, I shared my dream lover with you. I also prepared to go to court against my ex-partner.
In March, I visited memories of my grandmothers, one of whom had a past more than a little murky. I related a story about the greatest gift I ever received, the worst blind date I ever had, and why I hate my shower. My court case against my ex-partner was finally completed and I moved to stay incognito.
In April, I broke up with my girlfriend of several months, figured out being middle-aged means I don’t have to stay out past 10 pm, and shared a story about what I learned about marriage and both giving and receiving. I also got up on my high horse about Micron Technologies lack of LGBT protections and benefits for its employees – I wasn’t the only one – before the week was out, they changed their stance and followed their shareholders’ mandate.
By May, I had said a big, “Hello, girls, I’m available,” and set about online dating. My Jerry Falwell post made The Sacramento Bee, and I tried to put furniture together. I also laid out who I thought would be the best guests at a Dinner for Six.
Come June, my sister moved out of state and I wasn’t quite sure what I’d do. I pondered the length of my great grandmother’s earlobes. Not able to keep my trap shut in my younger days, I told you about why I remember Ronald Reagan and how my big mouth made my landlady feel really, really bad. I answered my first meme, “Eight Things About Me.”
In July, I found a religion at last. I got ticked off by people’s use of the term “that’s so gay,” to indicate something bad. And, I shared how I met my best friend. My buddy Kim came out from Tennessee for the grand California tour and then I decided to answer yet another “Eight Things About Me” meme and still wonder why.
August brought the back-to-school days and I ranted about why bookbags are the bane of my existence, but being gay got me to the front of the line during school enrollment. I let readers pick the topic for a week and related the story about losing my boy on girl virginity, and what would happen if I was on an elevator with a famous person. It’s a good thing I had memories to fall back on because dating wasn’t going so well.
Losing a wallet is never good, but when you’re a lesbian, it’s worse. That was how September started. I also learned breakup songs work through the stages of grief quite well. My review of Hitachi Magic Wand was successful, as some bloggers ran right out and purchased one. And, I finally had my first date with the woman I’m dating now, Magical Samantha.
In October, I found myself comparing my family with The Waltons, talking about Magical Samantha a lot, and launching the “Ask the Middle-Aged Lesbian” advice column. Columbus Day pissed me off and come to think of it, so did clothing manufacturers. Oh, and I got sum poosie.
November brought trips down memory lane including the story of how an old neighbor helped a young girl (me) and her mom (Mom) feel a little bit better. I won a bunch of stuff for charity (and several of my readers also made very generous contributions to the Sacramento Children’s Receiving Home). I absolutely raged against Teleflora.com, the rip-off artists. My oldest son was arrested for indulging in reefer madness and I began to get why people call the teenage years the roughest.
A long, long year finally came to a close. Magical Samantha has me becoming Berkeleyean, I ran into a homeless woman and felt totally helpless, found out one of my dear friends died by getting her Christmas card back in the mail stamped, “Deceased, Return to Sender,” got a neat-o purse for Christmas, and learned people aren’t so different after all.