*Big hug from me to you if you get the title reference.
What can you even say about 2018 that hasn’t already been said?
First of all, I suppose I can address a personal failing: I did not meet my Goodreads Reading Challenge goal of 70 books. I managed 57, which is definitely lower than most recent years. But…I kind of had some other shit going on? I’d like to say my count was lower because I read a bunch of really long, Serious Books, but that wouldn’t be true. I was just busy.
Busy doing what, Molly? YOU HAVEN’T EVEN HAD A FULL TIME JOB FOR OVER A YEAR NOW.
Well, that is correct. But I have nonetheless had a fulfilling year…
I visited France in February, Door County in May, India in July, and Seattle a couple times in July and August before the move.
I helped out Sabrina Madison for awhile in the spring, pitching in to organize the Black Women’s Leadership Conference and other Progress Center for Black Women initiatives. She is a brilliant dynamo and exactly what the city of Madison needs.
I was given the opportunity to begin contributing to BRAVA Magazine and have had three pieces published so far, with one hopefully coming soon. I framed the first story and my first check from them and it’s on the wall in our living room right in front of the chair I sit in to write.
When a bunch of dumbass Baraboo boys made international news for being dumbass racists, I was fucking mad, and wrote about it for Refinery29. As shitty as that whole situation was and is, the article is probably my proudest accomplishment of the year.
I took a few writing classes at Seattle’s Hugo House that definitely improved my skills and introduced me to a vibrant community of talented local wordsmiths.
I maintained another year of vegetarianism and welcomed V to the meatless tribe, though the credit for that really goes to his mother and not me.
I bought a *lot* of books, despite there being no more bookshelf space in our apartment, and despite my flirtation with minimalism that occurred post-move.
Yeah, I moved. I moved to the West Coast, to a city I’d vacationed in twice but didn’t really know that well, because my husband got the kind of job opportunity that you don’t turn down. Even though we’d bought a house just two years ago, and probably 85% of all the people we loved in the world were in Wisconsin or the greater Midwest, and we loved Madison…we took the chance, and I’m glad we did. If we hadn’t, I know we’d be wondering What If and kicking ourselves for being too chickenshit to make a change. Seattle is sometimes amazing and sometimes bleak, but honestly, so is Madison – so is pretty much everywhere.
I haven’t actually discussed this on Facebook or anything yet, but a month or so ago I started walking dogs with Wag. It began to seem kind of like a no-brainer: I was always going for walks, and swooning over dogs wherever we went, and Seattle literally has more dogs than children, and I wanted to earn a little money again without going back to a 9-5. It’s been…interesting! Largely positive. I love that I get to do it whenever I want to, and never when I don’t want to. I’ve met a lot of adorable puppers and some real characters among them – an elderly blind and deaf terrier named Oliver who refused to let me put on his sweater when it was pouring rain; a sorta sharpei/pug mix named Wally who puked three times and had diarrhea once on our first walk; a nervous little Maltese boy named Henry who was deathly afraid of the black tiles in his building’s lobby and required being carried over them. And I’ve found a few favorites that I try to walk whenever they show up on the app.
As it’s been over a year now since losing my job, I have begun to get slightly more comfortable with the idea that I do not have to have a 9-5 full time job to be a Worthwhile and/or Normal Person. There are lots of ways to live life. I’m not saying I’ll never have one again – I really hope I do, if only for my retirement’s sake, Jesus – but I’m working through all my ~feelings~ surrounding being pretty much the only non-parent I know that doesn’t have full time employment.
Ah yes, the non-parent thing. Infertility has remained an unwelcome presence in our lives. My body thus far stubbornly refuses to get pregnant naturally or…technologically. I don’t remember how many cycles of IUI we did in 2018, but we are taking a different path in 2019. As much as I wanted to avoid it, our best option at this point appears to be in vitro fertilization, which we will probably begin in the spring. More on that to come later, surely.
Let’s talk about 2019. I have goals.
- Take a solo trip, or trips. I sort of have one planned – AWP in Portland in March – but V is joining me there after the conference is over so I’m not sure it totally counts. Regardless, I’m going to do that and I’d like to plan another.
- Begin and maintain a yoga practice. Maybe just once a week, but regularly.
- Buy less stuff.
- Eat less dairy and less sugar. Notice I said “eat less” not “eliminate”…I’m just not ready to do that and I don’t want to set myself up for failure. But I don’t think my body appreciates my very very frequent consumption of those two things, and it has been letting me know via new bouts of cystic acne and digestive pain! I don’t know how I’m going to measure this, exactly. I already track my meals and stuff with the Fitbit app, but it’s not really set up for anything but a basic food diary. Suggestions welcomed.
- Pitch at least one piece every month.
- Go somewhere warm and sunny in the spring when Seattle Bleakness reaches its grayest apex.
A lot of people are annoyingly too cool for the ritual of setting goals at the beginning of a calendar year – as if it is somehow news to those of us who participate that January 1st is entirely arbitrary and calendars are arbitrary and time is meaningless. It’s as good a time as any to set new goals. I enjoy it, and I like seeing other people do it too.
Sconnie Molly 