the ocean

Well, despite my best efforts, I am still aging. I turned 48 this week. It was a very low-key event, as events that fall on Wednesdays generally must me. I worked from home, I lit a roaring fire in the fireplace and read while listening to records, we ordered from my favorite Italian place for dinner, I opened a few (unnecessary, but appreciated) presents from Ian. We watched Waiting for Guffman, which it turns out Ian has never seen, which is of course a betrayal of the highest order. I enjoy exposing betrayals, though, so that was in and of itself kind of a present for me.

It was, I think, overall a good year to be me. I saw friends, went places, did things. (And yet still somehow failed to get airline status? Do better, United.) I had a big transition at work that turned out to be a pretty good one, and a big transition at home with the acquisition of a demon dog who did not sleep for the first six months or so of her tenure but turned out to be pretty cute, anyway. I read a lot, if not as much as probably everyone should. I watched too much television, but that's America's fault. 

This next year will probably be pretty similar. And if that's the case, good. I have very little to complain about, although of course I do. Again, America.