This post should've come a week ago, but after spending a relaxing evening on the couch blogging in front of the TV, i clicked "Add" and my post vanished into the ether. And another unfortunate mishap derails my attempt to get back on the posting wagon. Well, i'm here in my room in the Fairmont Hotel Vancouver, having just updated my site code to avoid a repeat of my last error, and am ready to put pen to paper. Or more accurately, fingers to keyboard.

First things first ... a trip back to last year for Dionne and Matthew's wedding (take 2). Aww.

My last post came right before the holidays, so let's rewind the brain to that point. The weekend before Christmas i spent in large part cleaning the house in anticipation of hosting a small de la Mora Christmas Eve gathering. The week prior we had finally painted the last of the bedroom trim, officially completing the room's renovation (save for Veronica's ongoing furniture rearrangement). I spent my time moving an assortment of Veronica's loose shoes out to the garage and generally converting the house from a "lots of crap everywhere, but tidy" stopgap to a "genuinely attractive enough to host guests" state of perfection. Saturday night we met up with my parents and sister and fiance for dinner and a gift exchange, a day before i dropped the folks off at SFO to head to Dallas for Christmas with my other sister, brother-in-law, and nephew. My parents gave us a new set of pillows, as well as what has become one of my favorite gifts in recent memory, a pair of flannel Guinness pajamas. While V headed to work on Christmas Eve, i finished my house cleaning by 2pm and turned my sights towards cooking. After six hours of buying and preparing food, we shared a nice meal of chicken vera cruz, pasta, green beans, and salad with Naomi, Phil, Millie (i know she goes by Amelia now, but "Millie" is just so darn cute), Vincent, George, Lynda, and little Jessi. The big hit was my impromptu addition of cilantro-lime butter for no purpose other than fancy-ing up the bread. The guest list had fluctuated between four and ten people over the course of the day, but we had just enough food for the eventual attendees. At midnight we opened presents as is the de la Mora tradition. V got the diamond earrings she'd been envying since our Thanksgiving trip to Iowa, and i got fifth and second row seats the the upcoming Kids in the Hall sketch performance and conversation, respectively, and a rain check for a new suitcase. Millie and Vincent graciously gave us a copy of Super Mario Galaxy, which i'd been eyeing since its release, while N+P gifted us a sure-to-inspire-heated-debate 80's "Name That Tune" game. Our guests bid us adieu around 1am, and i passed out from my domestic exhaustion as Santa skirted the local rooftops.

I'm sitting at my hotel desk now with Dirty Harry on in the background and the housekeeping woman making my bed. I believe that psycho Scorpio killer (played by the actor who went on to be Sly Stallone's straight-laced superior in the awesomely-ridiculous-as-only-an-early-80's-action-flick-can-be Cobra) is scaring the hell out of her. With good reason ... that guy is beyond creepy. Thankfully she finished up and left before the unsettling Kezar scene. What a great flick. Those wonderful late 60's/early 70's cop movies are definitely an extinct breed.

Christmas in RC was low-key, waking up late and futzing around before heading over to my Aunt Cathy's for dinner. We spent a lovely evening with my aunt, uncle, and cousin, fiddling around with Rock Band on the Xbox 360 that Jeff brought over. I'd more or less resolved to skip the multi-instrument alternative to Guitar Hero, but after that night i must say my curiosity has been reactivated. I got an email from my dad in Texas, with photos of the newest budding Chelsea striker. With injuries to Drogba, Sheva, Lamps, and JT, we need all the help we can get. January pickup Nicolas Anelka will hopefully bring his proven scoring record with him, but with our luck he'll break his pelvis in about two weeks. It's amazing what a roller coaster ride this season has been so far. Mourinho exits in typically dramatic fashion, our most reliable leaders are bruised, broken, and benched, our new manager appears to have arrived from a George Romero flick, and yet we're only four points from the top of the table. It's a mad mad mad mad mad sport.

My optimism is tempered by the fact that i watched last weekend's Manchester United/Newcastle match, and the mancs are playing on another planet/solar system/galaxy/universe, whichever astronomical analogy you prefer. As much as it pains me to say it, Cristiano Ronaldo is the best player in the world right now. His second goal, where Carlos Tevez fired a bullet pass to him in the box and he brought it down and slotted home in one motion was a one-of-a-kind piece of skill. With United's experience, cohesiveness, and raw talent, it's hard not to envision them winning their second consecutive title. And oddly, for the first time i can remember i'm not overwhelmed with bitterness while watching another team excel.

Perhaps it's because i'm enjoying the New England Patriots march into the history books. I developed an affection for the Pats during my time in Boston, seeing Tom Brady win an unlikely championship during my first winter there and bringing New England its first sports title since the Celtics in the 80's. I was disheartened by the early season developments this year, with the team being accused of cheating after the New York Jets caught a Pats employee taping Jets defensive signals during a game, a clear violation of league rules. The scandal prompted the media to go so far as to question whether all three of the Patriots' titles should be questioned or asterisk-ified, to use the Barry Bonds parlance. I found it fairly ridiculous, considering stealing signals is something every team does to an extent. The Pats were appropriately punished (a total of $750k in fines and loss of a first round draft pick) and life went on. And the surly Bill Belichick decided the best response was to grind the rest of his 2007 opponents into dust. To physically and mentally humiliate them. Up by 20 points with 30 seconds left? Have Brady throw for another TD to make it a 27 point lead. 4th and goal with 2 seconds left and a 40 point lead? Go for it. Win with extreme prejudice. The offensive explosion was an interesting response to their defeat to the Colts in last year's AFC championship game. In that game, Peyton Manning shook his history of "big stats, big game chokes" to defeat the unflashy-but-ever-clutch Brady and went on to win his first Super Bowl. This year? Belichick took the chains off Brady, producing a juggernaut offense and allowing his quarterback to break Manning's single season passing records as if to show the world "anything they can do, we can do better". And they did. Whereas the Colts fell short in their bid for a perfect season a few years back, Brady and co. completed the regular season feat. And now that Manning reverted to his usual playoff routine (get upset, make a few pouty faces, and disappear), New England has a clear shot at the first 19-0 season ever. Go Pats!

The day after Christmas, Veronica returned to travail but i decided to take an extra day of relaxation. I braved the crowds at Best Buy to pick up a copy of the much lauded Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare. After getting it home and into the Xbox 360 despite its increasingly rickety CD drive tray, i found myself in agreement with the critics. A fast paced modern first person shooter, the gameplay contrasts with that of the equally brilliant Ghost Recon: Advanced Warfighter in which you find yourself quietly stalking opponents and finding sniping spots. CoD instead throws you into a chaotic battle zone, with no time to ponder over your attack options. You'd better find some cover and come up with an intelligent way to outshoot your opponent, or you're going to get mowed down. As such, the game is pretty damn difficult. When it pushed me too far, i switched over to Super Mario Galaxy. A beautiful update of the seminal platformer Super Mario 64, i was quickly hooked. Only a few days ago did i finally collect the last of Mario's 120 power stars. V's now playing the game as Luigi in an attempt to fully complete the title. Roo and Doug bought us a copy of SMG as well (mainly because i've been lackadaisical in updating my Amazon wishlist) ... hey, it's a great gift!

We caught the wonderful Juno the evening after Christmas after a tapas dinner. I loved the arc of this film, showing youthful cynicism react to a glimpse of its thirtysomething future. It reminded me of Dr. Evil's classic line, "There's nothing more pathetic than an aging hipster." Juno's simultaneous sharp wit and understated vulnerability worked great. And of course, Michael Cera gave a familiar performance in his element as an awkward teenager. I watched a bunch of movies over the break, both in the cinema and at our home theater. I've been boning up on world affairs after i realized i knew nothing about Darfur other than the buzzword. The somber documentary Sand and Sorrow gave me the basics, as well as depressing the hell out of me. I'm curious to see the equally disturbing Hotel Rwanda. V and i finally watched a Netflix copy of Wes Anderson's The Life Aquatic a few weeks back. We're averaging about one movie every two months with Netflix ... not exactly a cost-effective expenditure. Despite the prevalent negative reviews, we both enjoyed Bill Murray's turn as a past-his-prime Jacques Cousteau figure. Especially Seu Jorge's supporting role as the adventurous crew's bard, playing acoustic arrangements of classic David Bowie songs. We've also got blu-rays for Ratatouille and the "final cut" of Blade Runner waiting to be viewed. On New Year's Eve i partook of a classic Planet of the Apes marathon, rewatching the brilliant original ("It's a madhouse! A MAAAAADHOOOOOOOUSE!") and catching the increasingy more bizarre and convoluted sequels. The second one is actually fairly good, with a postapocalyptic mutant human clan worshipping a nuclear missile and Charlton Heston popping up on occasion for some more overdelivered lines. From there things go downhill quickly as the scene shifts to a parallel modern age in which humans enslave apes. Capped off by the ultimate pile of dung, Tim Burton's pointless remake of the original, which AMC wisely chose to exclude from the marathon.

Although i only planned a short time off work in between holidays, by the morning of the 27th i had come down with a cold and was sidelined for the rest of the week, which naturally i spent playing video games. Our friends Kevin and Shyoko arrived for an extended New Year's weekend on Saturday evening, and we celebrated with a late dinner at new favorite Evvia. Kevin came bearing a shiny new copy of Ratchet & Clank Future: Tools of Destruction that i must give a whirl soon. They caught up with friends in the city on Sunday while we relaxed, having Naomi and Phil over in the evening for burgers at Jeffrey's and an 80's music trivia contest with their Christmas gift to us. As i predicted, Phil and my victory over the ladies caused some friction with the poor losers.

On New Year's Eve as the "no rest for the wicked" Veronica again returned to work, i watched the aforementioned Ape marathon with our guests. They absconded to the city to prepare for the night's festivities and i subsequently napped until V got home. She convinced me to put aside my lethargy and ill health to ring in the new year at New Wave City. We convened with K+S, Nathan, Summerlea, and Hakeem before i drove the lot (packing all seven of us into my Jetta, a new record) over to SoMa. I dropped them off at 11:15pm and went off to find parking. By 11:45pm Veronica advised me by cell phone that i should just park in her work's lot, six blocks from the club. I ran back to the club, arriving just in time to grab a glass of champagne and count down the last seconds of 2007. We spent the rest of the night dancing, ferrying our fellow revelers home at 2am after a brief trip through the Burger King drive-thru.

I'm boycotting Britney stories. The woman is messed up, no doubt, but this media frenzy has gotten flat-out silly. Leave the damn woman alone. She's f@$#ing mentally ill. Tom Cruise, on the other hand ... i'm all for splashing stories of his insanity on the front page.

And here we are in 2008. 2007 was certainly good to me ... not one but TWO grants at work, refinancing our home and securing some financial stability, and welcoming my aspiring Chelsea-phile nephew to the world. I always tend to focus on the nostalgia of things past rather than the anticipation of things future, so i'll sign off with one last sigh of moroseness as i bid farewell to the previous year.