Oh, 2018. Honestly. I’m not sure anyone would call it the best year ever, but I know quite a few who would say it was the worst. For me, 2018 was pretty hollow. No defining moment that will add to my list of befores and afters. A year is just a tiny bit more than 2% of my life. Two percent.
Let’s see. In 2018 I got my cosmic poetry tattoo. It’s pretty bossy and I love it.
I went to quite a few meetings in 2018, and despite the time or place or subject matter, most of these people were there with me.
In 2018 I was delighted to see a grasshopper crystallizing her dream of being an earring.
In 2018 I bottled something like 72 jars of local honey, and I’m now selling it. And by “selling it” I mean it’s all sitting in a temperature-controlled room waiting for me to gain the courage and motivation to actually try selling it.
I wore shoes every day in 2018. These are my current favorites, because they are a throwback to my reminiscence bump.
In 2018 I did NOT buy this coat. (The price didn’t match the quality.)
In 2018 I saw Hamilton and The Wiz and Twenty One Pilots. I devoted a weekend to John Pavlovitz events at my church. I gained 20 pounds, and because I’m currently knitting two sweaters that will not fit my current shape, I will lose those 20 pounds. (It’s so easy to make it sound so easy.) I went to several marching band practices and competitions and DCI events. I drank moonshine for the first time. I went to my high school reunion to celebrate 30 years of NOT being in high school.
In 2018 I finished my ears.
Best of all, I kicked 2018 off with the Sparklepants that were sent to me in error, but ended up being exactly what I needed.
2019. Here we go.