I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. But I do believe in making each year better than the last. So that by the time I’m 40, being 26 will seem like a long-forgotten but embarrassingly awesome fashion faux pas kept hidden behind the gaggle of bridesmaids dresses in my front closet. Like overalls. Unitards. Doc Martens.

Reflection

As a broad, overarching goal, 2009 was supposed to be my year of health and fitness. After a strong gym-rat presence in 1Q, a knee surgery in the next, and a booze-fest, Kenny Chesney-style summer, I drove this ship right into the carb-infested beach called ”Doing Jack Shit” in 4Q. In summary: good times prevailed. Health and fitness left high and dry. Film at 11. Rock ‘n’ roll, you dumb ass.

Outlook

Glass half full: I have a lot to look forward to in 2010: more antics at an entertaining job in a town I love; friends will be getting married, having babies; there will be gatherings and celebrations and vacations, and awkward drunk photos we can’t explain in the daylight but keep just in case we need a good laugh later in the year. And we will.

Glass half empty: Then there’s everything else I can see coming this year, the long, slow black train chugging down the track: illness, loss, struggle. Some of it planned; rather, anticipated. Some of it, just… statistically likely… for my friends and family. But I promise to be there for you. To be available to you in 2010.

Time to refill the glass. With water. ((long sigh)) And I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that 1990 was 20 years ago… SHIT, we’re old. But so is MC Hammer.

Sincerely,

Sally B.