On Love and 2*16

I recently obtained some incredibly insightful advice from one of those Facebook reposts that has been copied and edited so many times it’s a little blurry and sort of looks like it came from the mid-90’s.  This is, of course, where I get all my good advice, and is maybe why my life closely resembles a victim of a robbery.  Anyway, this unidentified guru of the data tubes told me to stop apologizing for things, and start being thankful instead.  For example, when I’m 68 minutes late for dinner (and yes I counted) with two of the greatest people on earth and their charming and hilarious 16 year old, instead of saying “I’m soooooo sorry I’m late” 13-74 times during the course of the evening, I should say “Thank you for waiting for me”, “Thank you for understanding”.  Or if I make a really terribly inappropriate joke in front of one of my friend’s toddler-sized children, instead of saying “I’m sorry I’m such a twat” I should say “Thank you for loving me, even though I’m such a twat.”  Of course there is definitely a time and a place for apologizing, but in general, I definitely think I want to try this new positive way of being.  So here I go, trying my hand at showering TIME Magazine’s Worst Calendar Year in History, with a little bit of thanks.

Dear 2016,

Thank you for a perfect year with my boyfriend (man friend?  life partner?  significantly consistent human?) that literally loves every single bit of me, even when I think we had our first fight in the history of ever and then it turns out he just raised his voice a little while disagreeing and then I hid in a chair until he came and got me with a hot toddy and laughed that I was so silly.  I really am thankful that he thinks I’m hilarious instead of annoying, mostly because even though I am ridiculous, it truly is kinda hilarious sometimes and I’m glad that isn’t lost on him.  He even loves the part of me that leaves cups and wine glasses all over my bedroom.  And the part that doesn’t like being hugged in the kitchen.  And really, let’s be honest, the part that has very specific rules about hugging in general.  He’s basically just a saint, liken to Dorothy Mantooth, and thank you 2016 for making sure he still thinks I’m the bees knees.

Thank you for the marriages.  All of the marriages.  All of the glorious, wonderful, amazing marriages that I got to witness and/or be a part of this year.  And honestly, congratulations peeps.  I’m so happy for all of you in a way that wedding cards and and bird feeders, and fire extinguishers can never really show.  Also, props to life partners.  I love them so much they have surpassed the definition of people who “married in”.

Thank you for Chicago.  When I wanted to be safe, warm, entertained, and perfectly distracted from you, 2016, Chicago was there for me with it’s endless supply of things that people used to own and now want me to own, and its own little vacation spot on the corner of “used to be a really cool thrift store but then it burned down” and “we’re kinda, almost, just a little further, to Val’s house”.  Also the toast.  Thank you for the toast.

Thank you for Chris Carper.  I missed his little squishy face with the fire of a thousand suns, and if 2016 decided it can handle us together again, I accept, with the warning that this could quite actually end up being one giant hilarious, emotional, Pinterest-fail disaster after another, but I accept.

Thank you for the safe, quick, birth for my girl Lindsay and her little man, Joey [aka Lil Wheezey].  2017 didn’t want him, so you graciously decided he could come early and safely.  He’s perfect, and tiny, and poops a ton.  He just absolutely stole my heart at first wheeze.

Thank you for my new sense of feminism.  Prior to the barrage of p*ssy grabbing, and heinous prohibitive laws, and women running for president, I really was just a human with a vagina.  But I get how awesome that is now, and I have my sites set on the ceiling.  We might have some trouble breaking through in the next couple years, but damned if we don’t pick at it until it looks like god damn Waterford Crystal.

Thank you for the puzzles.  Thank you for the drinks.

Thank you for the dancing, and the forties, and so much pizza.  Thank you for the weekend trips, and 1,034 pictures of my nieces and nephews.  Thank you for all the times my friend’s have cooked me dinner, and all the times they acted surprised when I cooked them zucchini-something-or-other in return.

In the end, 2016, I think we can sum this diatribe up by simply saying thank you for all the love, all the fun, and all the food.

I’ve had a really bitchin year.  Thank you.

Murs

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