Twelve months ago, I declared that 2011 was going to be the best year ever. I love being able to say that I was right about that. At the end of 2010, my dad asked us how we wanted to be different a year from now, and I said I wanted to be "at a job I enjoy and in a dwelling with painted walls."
Here I am at the end of 2011 with apartment walls that are painted a lovely shade of light grey, and while I'm not yet at a job I enjoy, I might be soon. And I'm not at a job I don't enjoy any more, so that counts for something for sure.
My monthly resolutions fell off a bit at the end of the year, but they were so useful and motivating for me all year. I am really glad I did that.
2011 was the year we moved and I fell in love with our new home.
2011 was the year I fell in love with quilting.
2011 was the year we spent three lousy months apart but six magic and oh-so-fun months in Virginia.
2011 was the year we celebrated one year together.
2011 was the year I realized that spending your life counting down till the grass is supposed to get greener in two months, or a year, or a week is a good way to make yourself unhappy and miss out on a lot of good stuff happening right now.
2011 was a very good year.