I mentioned those weeks to you guys before, how I immersed myself in memories and essentially scrubbed my insides raw to condense our story into an 800 word piece. Many things had to be left out, obviously, but the story is still whole, still honest, true, and awful.

I don’t know what will come of this article. Maybe it will lead to something more, an opportunity to move from writing about grief to writing about the process of healing. All of that remains to be seen. My hope, though, is that my story, Kim’s story, our year together, will find its way to someone who is going through the same thing. Maybe there is a person sitting in a hospital room, next to the failing body of someone they love, playing DJ or trying to sleep on the most uncomfortable chair. Maybe this person will stumble upon this column and, just for a moment, he or she won’t feel so achingly alone. That is my request to the Universe, that this tragedy could soothe the soul of someone who is in the midst of their own cancerous hell.

Thank you for taking the time to read this labor of love, and for being with me every step of the way. You guys are amazing and I am so lucky to have each of you as a reader. And thank you, of course, to Regence, for giving me this opportunity.

Friendship, Caretaking, and Grieving: By Alida Moore

On Tuesday night, I had the beautiful and terrible honor of having dinner with two friends who were grieving the loss of people they love to cancer. It was the 6th anniversary of J’s sister’s death, whereas N’s friend had succumbed to his illness just two weeks before. We huddled together at a sturdy wooden table with peeling paint and spent two hours talking about death, cancer, anger, grief, and loss. We drank wine and remembered the people we love. We laughed at the ridiculousness of their lives ending so tragically early. We shared frustration over a world that has the audacity to keep spinning when your life has been so jarringly interrupted. Sometimes we cried, other times we laughed, but mostly we were just in disbelief that we could even be talking about this at all. Cancer is a motherfucker, we agreed.

At the end of dinner, I raised the last of my wine and looked into the sad eyes of two beautiful and kind women. “It’s a shitty club to be in, y’all, but I’m so thankful I’m not in it alone.” And it’s true. It helps, knowing there are people in the world who understand what it’s like trying to operate when your pain level is at 45, who understand that the pain never goes below a 3. I hate that they understand but I’m so glad to have them.

After dinner, I took my time walking home, wandering the streets of my neighborhood and feeling my feelings. I miss Kim, y’all. I’m doing all these new things in my life and I want nothing more than to run into her room, jump on her bed, and tell her everything that’s been happening. I want to talk to her about boys and writing and running. I want to tell her how weird it feels to realize I existed in a walking-sleep state for almost 6 months after she died. And now that I’m finally waking up, feeling more alive than I ever have before, I ache to show her that I’m not wasting my life, that I’m taking chances, running as fast as I can to find new experiences, meet new people, do things that scare the hell out of me, because the only other option is to go back to that awful sleep-state and waste the time I’ve been given.

Last night I had the best run of my life. 45 minutes on the streets of the neighborhood I love. And you know what else? I actually ran for 20 consecutive minutes at the end. I found a magical rhythm and pace and my breathing felt effortless and the songs shuffling on my iPhone were perfect and the ground felt soft under my feet. And at the end, when I was a few blocks away from my house, my favorite sprinting song began to play. So I sprinted. For almost the whole song, y’all. I sprinted past cars and trees and houses, past people walking to dinner and a dude on a bike, who cheered for me as I blew past him, shouting at me to, “Get it GIRL!” It felt like I was flying. My lungs were burning, my legs were shaking, there were bright spots dancing in front of my eyes, and I felt awake, alive, and strong, like there is this force of nature trying to break through the surface of all the lies I’ve layered inside myself for years. “I’m not good enough. I’m not pretty enough. I’m not smart enough. I’ll never be a writer. I’ll never find love.” Those lies are being driven away by this newfound determination, this Make it Happen attitude, my desire for More, Please, More.

I’m awake, y’all. Every day I notice something new, something wonderful. It’s like my lung capacity expanded and I’m breathing in more life and fewer lies. These are the things I’d tell Kim, if we were lying on her bed together. And I think she’d be as excited as I am because that’s the kind of friend she is, one who feels your triumphs as though they were her own. Live to the point of tears. It’s good advice because it keeps you awake, keeps you moving, feeling.

More, please.

They were joined by their friend Reflector, a masked disco villain/hero:

The Night Nurse showed up to give everyone a taste of bad medicine:

She-Ra took one for the team:

As the night continued, more Super Friends arrived, including Betty White, Old Clark Kent, and the most evil villain of all, The One Percent (who kept taking our drinks before we’d even had a sip):

Drinks were made in the lab, where schematics were taped to the wall and evil potions bubbled:

There was dancing and general merriment throughout the night:

As the night continued, Wonder Woman found herself drinking tequila through a straw in order to keep her red glitter lips beautiful. Wonder Woman also drank a LOT of tequila. In fact, the Super Friends kept bringing Wonder Woman more tequila.

Wonder Woman: I have had way much of all the tequila!

She-Ra: That is SO good! We should really go save lives!

Wonder Woman: What a brilliant idea! The good citizens of Capitol Hill require our assistance, I’m sure.

She-Ra: (to the rest of the party) We are off to save lives!

Wonder Woman: WAIT I NEED TO DRINK MORE TEQUILA OKAY LET’S GO NOW!

So Wonder Woman and She-Ra took to the streets of Capitol Hill and immediately found citizens in dire need of help.

Wonder Woman: GOOD CITIZEN, PLEASE WAIT TO CROSS THE STREET! THE LIGHT IS RED! IT IS NOT SAFE!

She-Ra: PLEASE DO NOT WORRY. WE WILL BE RIGHT THERE TO ASSIST YOU!

(The WALK sign begins to flash. She-Ra runs into the crosswalk, making sure all cars stopped at red lights continue to stay stop. Wonder Woman runs to the other side of the street, where many fine citizens have gathered.)

Wonder Woman: I AM HERE TO HELP YOU SAFELY ACROSS THE STREET. PLEASE DO NOT PANIC. IF EVERYONE WILL GRAB HOLD OF MY LASSO OF TRUTH, I SHALL GUIDE YOUR SAFE PASSAGE. COME WITH ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE!

She-Ra: Trust us, fine citizens! We are SUPERHEROES.

Man in Car Waiting to Turn Left: You are SUPERCUNTS!

Wonder Woman: SIR! THAT KIND OF LANGUAGE CAN ONLY MEAN ONE THING! YOU, SIR, MUST BE A SUPER VILLAIN! PLEASE TURN AWAY FROM YOUR LIFE OF CRIME!

She-Ra: Kind and generous citizens, please turn your ears away from the supervillain and focus only on the task ahead of you! Trust us! Let the truth be your guide!

Wonder Woman: I WILL ALSO BE YOUR GUIDE BECAUSE I HAVE A LASSO OF TRUTH! IF YOU HAVE SECRETS YOU DO NOT WISH TO DISCLOSE, I MUST CAUTION YOU AGAINST SPEAKING WHILE HOLDING THE LASSO OF TRUTH BECAUSE IT IS THE LASSO OF TRUTH. IF IT WERE THE LASSO OF SECRETS, YOU WOULD BE FINE. OR EVEN IF IT WERE JUST A SPARKLY GOLD ROPE. NAY, THIS IS THE LASSO OF TRUTH AND MUST BE RESPECTED. DO NOT TRIP ON THE CURB!

We helped many vulnerable citizens cross the street that night. The police who patrolled that part of the neighborhood were skeptical about our superhero abilities at first. But then, a man across the street began to jaywalk.

She-Ra and Wonder Woman in unison: SIR DO NOT STEP OFF THE CURB IT IS VERY DANGEROUS BECAUSE YOU HAVE A DON’T WALK SIGN! YOU COULD GET HIT BY A CAR! THIS IS A VERY UNSAFE DECISION! PLEASE, GOOD SIR, DO NOT BE RECKLESS WITH YOUR LIFE. WE WILL BE THERE TO ASSIST YOUR SAFE CROSSING AS SOON AS WE CAN! YOU MUST WAIT FOR US! YOU MUST NOT LOSE HOPE! WE ARE ON OUR WAY!

At this point, the police realized our commitment to the good of all mankind. They saluted and went on their way to patrol another block because CLEARLY we had Olive/Bellevue covered.

After assisting all the citizens on the Hill, we headed back up to the party for more tequila and dancing. It’s possible Wonder Woman lost her dignity at some point. She definitely lost her balance and had to crawl a few times. Still, she never lost hold of the Lasso of Truth. Because in a world of ordinary mortals, she is a Wonder Woman.

(Thank you to all who helped celebrate our birthdays! Not Pictured: Hit Girl, Kick Ass, Angel Dust, The Green Swan, The Doctor, Catwoman, Batman, The Bridesmaid, and various superheroes/villains who were forced to come as their alter-egos to maintain anonymity, thus are not pictured here.)

Special thank you to Sam O’Hara for the lovely, professional pictures, all clearly indicated with her website. The other pictures are heavily and ridiculously edited from my phone. 

Fresh starts, though. It would appear I *did* inherit Grandaddy’s “nevah quit” attitude. I mean, aside from quitting school. I totally quit that. But everything else? When one fresh start doesn’t work, I create another. And another. And another.

Fresh starts. I registered for my first 5k. Did I tell you that yet? It’s on. May 20th. Like, THIS May. Like, I will be running five k’s along Alki Beach. I’m so excited, y’all. And a little scared. Because this means I need to avoid all fresh starts between now and then. I can’t quit running and then start up again the week before. I have to move forward, running forward, every day until I’ve met this goal.

When I first set the 5k goal, I felt good about myself for exactly 11 seconds. Then I panicked. Hard. So I texted my friend Will and begged him to run this 5k with me. Because one of the weirdest things about me (and something I’m working on, honestly) is this: I can let myself down; I cannot let down a friend. Cannot do it. So I texted Will so I would have someone to hold me accountable.

And Will isn’t just any someone. Click his name, y’all. This dude is an ATHLETE. He’s training for an Ironman, which is all the running/swimming/biking in the WORLD. He’s hardcore. So he’s essentially slumming it with me, to help me meet my goal. But he gets it. He gets that the most important milestones start with one fresh start, the one that takes, the thing that pushes you to keep going until you get the job, cross the finish line, until you can jump up and down and dance your ass off in celebration. He gets it. So maybe he’s slumming it with me that day. Maybe he already has a 16-miler on his training schedule for May 20th. Maybe he also is supposed to swim 2.1 miles. This amazing man decided my goal matters enough to fit into his already crazy athletic and demanding day.

He’s a good friend. He bought me a birthday shot (liquid cocaine: Jager, 151, and Goldschalger) that knocked me on my ASS. Plus, he speaks my love language: high fives. Please to see how we sealed the deal on our 5k plan:

So this is happening. This is the time for doing, not the time for a new fresh start. One foot in front of the other. Step by step, mile by mile, one day of running bleeding into the next, and the next, and the next. This is happening. And there is nobody with whom I’d rather run my first race.

What fresh starts have you made lately? Any tips for a first-time-5k’er?

It’s ridiculous, y’all. I know exactly why this happens. See, I have this neurological issue.  Whenever the potential for making out exists, my brain breaks. Like, totally and completely shuts down. This is a big reason why I like living with a roommate. The right roommate will embrace my affliction. The right roommate will encourage me to put on a fashion show of every possible date outfit I own. The right roommate would never let me walk out of the house looking busted. Yale has been awesome in this respect. Kim was fantastic as well.

Last January, I had my second date with the Welder. Of course, sartorial panic ensued. Kim was resting in her bed, fresh off a ten-hour day at the bakery. All she wanted to do was watch cheesy movies in peace. But my beautiful, patient, loving roommate paused her movie about 67 times as I ran in and out of her room in various states of undress. She offered tips — “More cleavage. Less cleavage. Higher heels. Those jeans have a hole in the mysteries. I can see your underwear through that dress and not in a good way.” Together, we came up with what she called the Perfect Date Dress For A Second Date On Which We Think There Should Be Making Out. (Later, we just called it my kissing dress.)

A few weeks ago, I was in the shower, getting ready for a date. In a panic, I realized I had never chosen my outfit and I only had 10 minutes before I had to leave. I ran to the closet and started ripping through the hangers. And then I found it. The Kissing Dress. Until that moment, I’d forgotten all about that particular fashion show and how Kim had helped. How she loved the dress and helped me choose just the right earrings. How she threw Make Out JuJu my way before I gave her a kiss on the forehead and headed off into the night. Remembering that night made me feel warm, like she hadn’t died and was in the next room, waiting for a fashion show. And for the first time, I didn’t feel immediately crushed by sadness just thinking about her. I felt happy, lucky to have the memory. I put on the dress, twirled once, and headed out the door to do her proud.

Healing, y’all. It’s happening. This morning I turned in a column about my year with Kim. It was insanely difficult to write; how do you cut the story of our friendship to 800 words? Writing this article required me to feel things I’d been avoiding. I immersed myself in our text messages, emails, and Facebook posts. I listened to our favorite songs. I looked at pictures and even pulled out the Unicorn and Narwhal. It took me three separate days to even get words onto the page because I cried too much each time I tried. I stopped sleeping again because the memories brought back the bad dreams for a little while. Writing this piece shredded my heart.

Here’s what I didn’t realize though. Immersing myself in everything Kim unlocked memories long forgotten. How I’m supposed to try the cottage cheese (ew) pancakes at a local restaurant because they were Kim’s favorite and we kept meaning to get them before chemo but never did. The games we used to play during her infusions to keep her appetite strong. Hundreds of hugs, kisses, high fives, laughing until we cried conversations that nobody would think was funny but us. Avoiding the memories just prolongs the pain of losing her. Allowing myself to remember confirms that our friendship was real, important, and irreplaceable in my life.

Healing. It is happening every minute.

I’m honestly a little hesitant to list the lessons I’ve learned in my life, mostly because one of the biggest things I’ve learned is how my understanding of the world around me changes with each new experience. Still, there are a few things life (and Grandaddy) has taught me that feel real, true, and important. For Part 2 of the 31 for 31 series, I’m going to share with y’all a list I affectionately call:

What I Know: 31 Things Life has Taught Me (So Far):

1. Be kind.
2. If there’s a doubt, there’s no doubt at all.*
3. Things are rarely black and white.
4. When something is shared in confidence, keep it in confidence.
5. Three strikes and you’re NOT out.*
6. The best cure for a hangover is French Onion Dip, Ruffles, and a Coca-Cola.
7. Dancing makes you brave.
8. Sometimes it’s okay to hide away from the world. Just tell someone where you’re going, even if you plan to stay in bed watching Netflix and secret-eating.
9. Real friends root for your success.
10. Let the other guy say no.*
11. When you are ready for your guests to leave, put the food away. If you want them to stay longer, bring out more wine.
12. Don’t assume you know what other people are thinking.
13. If you are going on a date with a boy with whom you’d like to make out, don’t wear sensible shoes.
14. The shower is the best place for an ugly cry.
15. Fruits/Veggies taste the best when they are local and in season.
16. One of the best ways to show someone you love them is by listening to them.
17. When you don’t know what a word means, ask. Or look it up. Then use it.
18. Tequila shots with a pineapple juice chaser.
19. Moving across the country by yourself makes you a freaking badass.
20. Say thank you. A lot. All the time.
21. Smile at strangers.
22. Try not to spit your coffee at strangers when you smile at them.
23. If you are a swarthy Italian, it is very okay (and very necessary) to put a spot in your budget for eyebrow waxes.
24. You rarely regret doing something that scares you.
25. Saying, “Let’s Just See,” is a great way to make something happen.
26. Roller skating at 2am while drunk at Burning Man is not an awesome idea.
27. Making out with a stranger while on bikes is an awesome idea. Totally worth the bruised legs.
28. It’s difficult to be honest with other people sometimes. It’s more difficult to be honest with yourself. Do it anyway.
29. Sprinting barefoot down a hotel hallway is the MOST fun.
30. There’s always one more thing you can do to influence any situation in your favor.*
31. And after that, one more. And after that, one more. Etc, forever.*

(*Lessons from Grandaddy)

What are some things life has taught you? I’d love to hear your own lessons. If you decide to make your own list, be sure to link here so I can read it!

My birthday present to myself

To celebrate 31 (which is already promising to be one of my favorite years ever), I’ve put together a two-part series I’m calling 31 for 31. In Part 1 I’m going to list 31 things I’d like to do this year (an idea shamelessly stolen from Sizzle). In Part 2 I will list 31 things I’ve learned in 31 years. Thank you, Sizzle, for the great idea!

31 To-Do List:

1. Dress like Wonder Woman and celebrate my birthday.
2. Join a running club for accountability and form coaching.
3. See live jazz.
4. Send 1 hand-written letter a month.
5. Buy coffee for a stranger at least once a month.
6. Try Bikram.
7. Show my face in NIA/Zumba after the Great Freakout of 2011. (In which I got frustrated, muttered, “Fuck this shit,” and stalked out in the middle of class.)
8. Talk to more strangers.
9. Say yes to something that scares me. (Or many somethings.)
10. Keep my word.
11. Get regular manicures.
12. Eat here and also here (during fried chicken season).
13. Take 2 writing workshops with 826 Seattle.
14. Write (for myself) once a week.
15. Run a 5K.
16. And then a 10K.
17. Go back to the playa.
18. When on the playa, go out exploring at night by myself, at least once.
19. Create a piece of art as a tribute to Kim to burn in the temple.
20. Finally find and buy myself a vintage typewriter.
21. Nightwalking. A lot more nightwalking.
22. Write one fiction short story, just to see if I can.
23. Continue my professional writing career by finding a full-time writing gig. (Copywriting? Grantwriting? Who even knows?)
24. Volunteer with Marriage Equality in Washington.
25. Participate in Seattle Works Day.
26. Be with Grandaddy for his 90th birthday celebration.
27. Pitch 1 new freelance story a month.
28. See Jeff Mangum in April. (Also known as the concert of a LIFETIME for this girl.)
29. Learn to cook without a recipe.
30. Read one new book a month.
31. Dance as often as possible.

What about you guys? What’s on your to-do list this year? Anything you’d vote to add to mine?

Image by Sam Brown at Exploding Dog

Last year, on my 30th birthday, I wrote these words:

My thirties are going to test me and teach me more than I can possibly imagine right now. And they are going to be magical.

I hope y’all can forgive my douchiness in quoting myself. See, today I turned 31 and now I’m feeling all kinds of everything. I read my words from last year and I think two things. First, I had no idea what the hell I was talking about. Second, I was spookily prophetic. Thirty wasn’t easy. It was beautiful, it taught me more than any other year of my life, and I wouldn’t do a single thing differently, but it wasn’t easy.

I woke up this morning intending to go for a run. My Seattle sidewalks are still icy so I walked instead. I breathed in the cold, early morning air and watched the sun lighten the sky, turning black to red, then pink, then the grayish overcast gorgeousness I’ve grown to love in my Seattle skyline. I walked and felt all my feelings, all of them at once. I walked and remembered every mistake of the last year, every misstep, every single thing I could have (and should have) done better. I walked and realized what each mistake had taught me, and felt grateful to the grace of a Universe that allows me to make mistakes and still move forward. I walked and felt love for every person in my life, my friends who have done more for me than any person could ever deserve or repay, my bosses who treat me so well and have made me part of their families, and my own family who have been patient with me as I clumsily (and often crankily) deal with my grief. I walked and I missed Kim. She and I celebrated only one birthday each with each other. She was there on my 30th (chemo-exhausted but still costumed up and ready to party) and I was there on her 31st, armed with a narwhal and a lot of love. One birthday was all we were given. And to be honest, I’m struggling with turning 31. It feels awful to know my life (most likely) will continue moving forward while she was forever frozen at 31. It is incredibly sad.

So I walked and felt those things. I walked until I felt more peace than sadness. And then I walked and looked forward to the year ahead.

I have so many hopes for 31, y’all. Odd numbered years have always been my best years. I hope I learn to be as generous and kind as the people in my life. I hope I continue writing, pushing myself to be better and grow. I hope for more laughter, even if that laughter comes through tears. I hope I learn to offer gratitude before selfishness, understanding before judgment, and love before anger.

Tonight I’ll have dinner with a few of the people I love the most. And this weekend, Betty Nebraska, Bowie, and I are joining forces again for our birthday party. There will be superheroes, supervillains, and tequila. I will wear a Wonder Woman crown and dance and celebrate and wonder what superhero Kim would have been. It was be wonderful and sad and perfect, as every day of the last year has been.

Thank you for being here throughout the first year of my thirties. I cannot even describe how grateful I am for every comment, every email, every kind thought sent my way. I said last year 30 would be magical. I was right. You guys made it magical. So, with all the love I can offer, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I’ve told y’all about my 2012 Words: Make it Happen. I know we’re only 19 days into the new year but I cannot even begin to describe how perfect these words have been. I had no idea how many times a day I have wishful thoughts. Instead of living my life with deliberate intention, I’ve been passively waiting for a magical wish fairy to give life to these wishful thoughts. Imagine my surprise in realizing this magical wish fairy? She totally doesn’t exist. Or, if she does, she’s extremely and incredibly late.

I have two very dear friends, RaeC and Lusty. I met them both at my birthday party last year (which means we are coming up on our Frienniversary, y’all). They are wonderful. I can’t think of two people who love life with as much ferocity and boundless joy as they. They’ve given me so much over the past year — laughter, unconditional support, thousands of kisses, and a new nickname. They call me “Alida MoorePlease.” And every time I’m at a party, Burningman event, or just walking down the street, if I hear the words, “MoorePlease,” I immediately grin and feel loveful. (See photo below. That’s me and Lusty. RaeC’s hand is on my shoulder. See how loveful I am? And grinny?)

Photo credit: Greg Holloway (http://www.greghollowayphotography.com/index.htm)

One of the biggest surprises of 2012 (so far) has been how easy it’s been to actually make things happen. My wishful thoughts are quickly becoming my reality. And, because I have to be completely present to my thoughts at all time, I feel engaged in my life. I’m taking more chances. I’m meeting people I might not have ordinarily approached, going to parties by myself, asking boys out on dates. I am listening to the needs of my body and memorizing muscle movement as I run the streets of my neighborhood, up hills and through hipsters clustered on the sidewalk, breathing in the smell of coffee, and cigarette smoke, and Seattle.

I’m also planning. At the end of last year, I bought a whiteboard for my bedroom. I would love to give it an insanely cheesy name, like Alida’s Make It Happen Board or Maniboard Destiny, but I don’t think I can pull those off. Instead, I just call it my board. On it, I am keeping track of the freelance work that seems to be picking up. I keep track of ideas I have, stories/articles to pitch, things I want to learn more about. It’s great because now I have a visual reminder of my big goals, the things I am going to make happen for myself. And it’s been filling up lately. It would seem creativity explodes when you refuse to tell yourself no. (Who even knew? The magical wish fairy does exist. She was in me ALL ALONG!)

Make it happen. It’s so simple yet has changed so much for me already. And here’s the best part, the piece of the puzzle I never even realized was missing. Every time I whisper the words, “make it happen,” something does happen. And then, without fail, every single time? My next words are, “Thank you. More, please.” Because that’s what life is right now. Gratitude, determination, and a desire for more. More laughter. More happiness. More wonderful people who inspire me to be a more generous person. More honesty. Even more sadness and melancholy because those things bring life into sharper focus and help trim off what is unimportant, leaving only what matters, what lasts, and what is eternal. Love. Laughter. Mistakes. Dancing. Dreaming. Doing.

More, please. Thank you. More, please. Thank you.

More, please.

Luck never tasted so gross.

I’ve written before about my New Year’s tradition — I buy a can of black-eyed peas, spend the entire day gathering the strength to open the can, until I finally stand at the sink, gagging and choking while I force down as many spoonfuls of the evil pea as possible.

Bleh.

Grandmama always said it doesn’t matter how many peas you eat; your luck for the new year is guaranteed if you even eat just one. I never trusted her, though, and would force myself to eat as many as possible. I’m nearly 31 and nothing has changed. And honestly, with the year I just had? I very much almost ate the entire can, just to be on the safe side. Because between you and me, I could use some luck.

When Paul and I were roommates, he shared his own New Year’s tradition with me. Instead of making one or two specific resolutions, he decides on a word or phrase to dictate his actions in the coming year. I think he had chosen that year to be the Year of Yes. I loved this idea and totally copycat-ed him immediately. Since November, I’ve been thinking about the word/phrase I would like to see dictate my actions in 2012. I wanted it to encompass all of my dreams and goals, while leaving me space to work on healing the scars of the last year. Finally, while driving home from work one rainy December evening, it hit me. So I immediately sent Paul a text:

Me: The Year of Making It Happen.

Paul: Love it.

So, dear readers, welcome. This year, my mantra is, “Make it happen.” It’s a simple formula. Anytime I have a thought that falls in the category of, “Wouldn’t it be nice if ________” or, “I wish I ________,” I must immediately do one thing to move closer to making ________ happen. And if I’m in a place where I absolutely cannot do one thing to make *whatever* happen, I write a note on my hand reminding myself to do that thing as soon as I’m able. I’ll get more into the things I’ll be making happen this year in another post. But for now, here are the unexpected little things that have come up so far:

“I wish I had better posture.” (sit up straight immediately)

“I wish my jeans fit better.” (download nutrition app)

“I wish I were better at staying in touch with faraway friends.” (handwrite a card and send it)

Of course, black-eyed peas aren’t magical. I always forget that part. It’s quite possible I ate my black-eyed peas and went to bed, fully expecting to wake up the next morning with a newfound sense of joy and no memory of the bruises of the last year. (I’m ridiculous.) It didn’t happen, of course. I’ve been struggling lately and the midnight countdown, champagne toast, and evil-tradition-peas didn’t erase that. One of the best parts about being 30 is I understand better how life ebbs and flows, between easy and difficult, happy and sad. So though things are rough right now, I know how to look for little pieces of joy in my life, daily.

Like my little tiny capsules of Vitamin D sunshine:

And also, this face:

And, of course, all of you. You all bring me so much joy. So happy new year, y’all. I’m so glad to have you guys in my life. I look forward to another year of your comments, advice, wisdom, and humor.

And making it happen.