All is (still) quiet on New Year’s Day

At the start of the last decade I turned 24 and was about to embark on a trip that I thought was going to be more life-changing than it was. I can’t recall what New Year’s Eve was about – although I suspect I drank way too much – but 2000 saw me leaving Montreal and living in Scotland for six months with my parents. At the time I thought I wanted to be an actress. I spent six months preparing for a series of six (maybe it was five) intense auditions for theatre schools in the UK. I’m pretty sure I humiliated myself in each and every one. I made no friends. I came home even more unsure of myself than when I left and to a boyfriend who had been sleeping with someone else while I was away. I was 24 and lonely and depressed.

Life got worse.

Then it got better.

Then I got reacquainted with The Mister. We got married. I went back to school. We had a baby.

Life went blissfully on.

Today I turned 34. New Year’s Eve saw the Mister and I having our 7th Annual New Year’s Eve Open House/Birthday Party. The party was quiet, cystitis mostly some close friends who braved the very cold weather and bad streets to stop in and say hello. Today I have my tradition New Year’s hangover that has nothing to do with alcohol because I haven’t drank in years (but has everything to do with staying up too late and talking too much). This morning we braved the -22oC weather because Moira decided she wanted to go play on the swings – she even walked all the way to the park (she’s had a cold and has been cooped up inside). I ate croissants and evil squares. We had a dance parties in the living room listening to Wilco and Fred Penner. I had a wonderful nap and some time to myself.

Life goes blissfully on.

I’m very much looking forward to this next year and this next decade. My early 30s have been much kinder to me than my early 20s and I have a feeling things are only going to get better.

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