…Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me… I’m 36 today. I’m a little taller now than I appear in this picture. That’s the last time I looked cute in bangs (and I’m relieved that Dad abandoned the mutton chops within a few years of this photograph). Panda is still with me, although he’s very shabby now, has undergone several surgeries, and no longer plays Frere Jacques. I found him in a box recently, poor thing, and liberated him to sit in the armchair with my collection of Etsy bunnies. The bonding has been a little rocky, with all parties feeling faintly threatened, but I have hopes that they’ll work it out.
It’s been a mostly good 36 years. I have wonderful family and friends who are very dear to me, time to practice a craft that I love, and feel lucky to have a good job in hard times. My old wandering gene is making me feel restless these days, though. I have an internal buzzer that goes off every few years and tells me to move on. It went off over a year ago, but I don’t feel like I can leave Chicago right now, and I’m not sure where the wandering gene is telling me to go. One of my goals for this year is to do some research into places that appeal to me and plan a trip next summer to see friends and do relocation recon.
I also have some smaller-scale goals for my next year, including:
1. Paint my apartment (Why, you ask, if you’re planning to move? Primarily because it will make me ludicrously happy in the short run, but also because the move probably won’t happen for a couple of years. Also, paint chips are delicious fun and I like an excuse to collect them.)
2. Get in better shape (I’m currently using an accursed elliptical machine and hobbling around like a wounded thing)
3. Get at least 7 hours of sleep every night during the school year
4. Blog about things that are not remotely business-related
5. Write more letters (or indeed, any at all)
6. Quit Diet Coke once and for all
7. See more movies
8. Take more pictures
Wish me luck. I’ll be starting my year of good intentions with cake.