I love the New Year. It’s a doubly good fresh start for me. A new year in the world and a new year in my life (this year, my 35th). But the pressure. Oh, the pressure. I feel the need scrape my life free of any evidence of faults and come forward with amazing plans about who I am going to be. But this year, that just feels too big.
35 seems like a good year to end that tradition and embrace where I am right now. A wife. A mama. A runner. An educator. Passionate about good coffee, travel, the beach, and iPhotography. There are definite hopes and dreams I have for the year-I’d like to beat Paul at Scrabble, travel to the Redwoods in a camper van, run the Eugene marathon, fit into the designer jeans I bought after I had Stella, read good books, and capture a ton of small moments with my family (preferably with sun flare and a good retro filter) . And I’d like to write. This writing thing has become such a part of who I am and yet I seem to forget to make time for it. So, adding “a writer” to my list of how I define myself would make it a good year. And if I could finally complete a 52 Project-a portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2014-that would be the icing on the cake.