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This is the year my youngest son grew taller than me. The year I joined a fitness cult, worked out every day for 4 months, and gained 8 pounds anyway because my doctor had to put me on medication to stop my uterus from exploding. At least I have muscles to punch him with now. It has been a year of medical stress and financial strain, with Zenny in the hospital for kidney surgery, then bringing home Covid, then thinking I was going to die on the floor of an ER in Chattanooga (and being really irritated about how stupid that would be), and now an invigorating round of "is it cancer?"

But it was also the year I sold some paintings and bought an oven. The year I climbed around underground in a crystal cave like a goblin, drank whiskey that was so foul an entire line of librarians spit it out, got a very tight hug from a very old friend, rescued a whole bag of kittens, and helped two homeless library patrons achieve food and housing. Zenny's kidneys are now working like they're supposed to, the type of cancer we're looking at is highly survivable, weight is losable, and everything is okay.

xoxo,

h

(I'll add more pictures later.)