Ah, The New Year. To me it has always conjured up images of confetti, Times Square, kissing, and drunk happy people singing Auld Lang Syne. It also signals some melancholy. The holidays are so swollen with people, parties, gifts, food, happiness and excuses to leave some responsibilities until after January first. Post-December makes you feel like, “and…?” Plus it’s damned cold. 
Last year I was successful at keeping at least one resolution. It was to not take ANYTHING personal. Even if someone was literally telling me how horrible of a person I was to my face, I vowed to just shrug and say “man, they must be having a bad day.”
This year I have a few promises that I am making to myself but they seem so superficial compared to last year.  The usual: read more, eat better, do yoga weekly, quote scripture. I think a better way to start off the year is to just relax and accept my surroundings and circumstances. I too often find myself in that camp that compares my life (and its self described inadequacies) to others’ based on their dust jacket they publish to the world. Instead, this year, I am going to stop myself each time I am simmering with envy when I see a perfect picture on Instagram and smile and be truly glad that a person I know sees their life as perfect as their highlight reel. Truly glad. It’s also good to point out optimism. No matter how great life seems or how despairingly we trod through the hours, seeking out the highs is something we all should do. Life will be more meaningful by using creative thinking to transform the low points of our day to a revelation. 

The above picture is of our late German shepherd Gus. He was laid to rest December 23, 2015. It was tough accepting his departure. He lived a lot of life with us. Big life. For 13 years. Again with the optimism, this could be seen as such a sad event but we were able to turn it into a reflective moment. My husband and I were with him when he passed. Our daughter did not have to witness his demise and took the news very good. Christmas was a nice and surprising distraction, for lack of a better term. We were surrounded by friends and family who loved him and all had stories about him. It’s still difficult, especially when I come home expecting him to greet me at the door. It’s quiet without him. I don’t feel as protected. He was smart, strong, loyal, hilarious and fiercely protective of us all. Mostly our daughter though. What a dog. What a life. Miss you Bubby.