Ten years ago this month I started Pith and Vinegar.

It was 1999, obviously. Earlier that year Adrian had received a top of the line computer as a graduation present, and we decided to splurge on high speed internet. I had always been a bit of a computer nerd, but up until then my home Internet access was a Freenet connection, scooting around using Pine and Pico and Telnet and Usenet. And so it was with great fanfare that I sat down in front of the graphical, high speed Internet and started to discover its treasures.

I was awake for the next 48 hours.

When I was a child, my parents told me, I didn’t like to go to bed because I was always afraid of missing something interesting. Even as a baby I would lie in my crib with my eyes wide open, refusing to sleep, certain not to miss any action. Online, of course, there is always action, any time day or night. Someone is always talking about something. The Internet and I were instantly in love.

I would literally sleep in the uncomfortable office chair, reticent to leave the computer even for a moment. I filled my brain with everything I could (Internet … goes … in … here), and when I got tired of that I started reversing the flow and filling the Internet with my brain. I was sending out pirated movies in IRC, talking on forums, and playing with HTML on my own domain.

And then, in December 1999, there was a tiny blurb in Wired about this new weblog phenomenon that all the kids were doing. I read a few of the linked examples, and had my own up 3 days later. Y’know, yadda yadda yadda here we are.

Props to those guys who were doing it before me and from whom I totally stole much of the original design and concept. I see Medley, Pop Culture Junk Mail, Rebecca’s Pocket, and Brainlog are still going today. And even years later I still follow the online exploits of Neale at wrongwaygoback, Adam at trenchant.org, and of course The Matt of MetaFilter fame.

Having a website has been good to me. It’s helped with jobs and friends, kept me in touch with family, and given me a little corner of the Internet to call my own. P&V was nominated for Best Weblog at SXSW Interactive in 2001, and going to Austin changed my life in many ways.  Sometimes I regret walking away from it for a while at the height of its popularity, but the pressure of writing daily content for a demanding audience eventually wore me out.

So happy birthday, o website of mine. Some years I have ignored you, some I have filled you with delicious content, but nary a week goes by when I don’t see or experience or live through something and start to instantly phrase a potential post about it in my head. I’m happy to have this spot on the Internet all to myself, and I’m happy that someone is here to read it.

And I swear you don’t look a day over seven.

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Speaking of MetaFilter, I got my account there working again after years of lapsed browsing (much thanks to Matt and pb for fixing the problem) and was greeted by this when I logged in:

Only 1.2 million comments to catch up on. No problem.

I spent Thanksgiving with a family. It wasn’t my family (for many reasons, not the least of which is that being Canadian we celebrate Thanksgiving in October, as all good and just people do), but it was a family, and I could tell in minutes that they were every bit as close as we had ever been.

It was my first time being with a family on a holiday since Black Christmas. I think it actually went well, or at least as well as can be expected when you throw an anxious Canadian introvert into a house full of strange people that she wants to impress. I drank too much rum punch, pretended to be really absorbed in petting the cat when I felt flustered and out of place, snuck out back to smoke ciggies with other sattelite attendees, and generally had a grand time.

As we were leaving, my friend’s mom did what all good moms do, which is start to fuss and force little bits and bobbins on her chicks. “Take some more food. Do you need linens? Take some linens. Just take them. C’mon. Jessica, tell him to take some linens.” (Everyone who knows me would have been vastly amused that I was being called upon as some voice of housekeeping authority. Me. The “inventor” of the single pot stroganoff in college. The girl who has more of a clothing compost than a laundry pile. Needless to say, I just nodded sagely. Oh yeah, sure linens. They go on beds!) It was sweet, and it was exactly the kind of thing that Mom would have done after a family gathering.

All was well until we hopped in the car to head back home. I was spacing out, thinking about turkey no doubt, and then my friend’s dad said, “Wave to your mother.” I looked up, and she was standing there in the dim carport, robe bundled about her tightly, peering into the darkness, waving goodbye to her first born as he drove away.

My heart broke into a million pieces. It broke so fiercly that I was almost surprised no one in the car could hear it.

Anyway I survived my first family holiday in over two years, even if it wasn’t mine. And it was nice. It was nice to meet my friend’s family, it was nice to see them together, and I was very happy to be a part of their festivities. I feel more resolved than ever, though, that I will spend this Christmas as I did the last one: home alone, drinking wine straight from the bottle and merrily catcalling at my own personal Oz marathon. (Nothing says “Happy Holidays” like shiving.) Last year I went to 7-11 on Christmas morning and bought instant noodles and marveled at how quiet and peaceful the world was. It’s probably not how most people would choose to spend their holidays, and I can see a healthy dollop of sympathy in their eyes if they hear about it. It makes me happy, though, my quiet private Christmas, and that is what counts.

I don’t mean for this to turn into another sad Mom entry, because it really isn’t. My life has been so full of things lately, bright shiny things, worn things, warm things, strange things. It’s been pretty awesome, frankly. There’s so much stuff I wish I could tell you, dear reader, but I can’t, or at least not right now. Suffice to say that I was all moody through summer thinking that after a couple of years of action my life had settled down, and then it turned out it was only resting a bit and I haven’t really had much time to ponder or write since then.

I just find it kind of funny that of all the things that have happened lately I know the one that I will never, ever, ever forget is my friend’s mom standing in the carport, waving pensively as we drive away.

PS: I am going to be really really really old in 15 days and I am NOT OKAY WITH THIS. Shit.