2019 Year In Review: The Good & The Bad
January
January starts out well enough, even though it’s usually the month that my holiday enthusiasm starts waning and the winter doldrums really gets it teeth in. You can imagine my euphoria when my boy Novak wins the sunny Australian Open. Two weeks in January of watching beautiful people play tennis in 100’F weather is my reason for living. I resolve to see Federer and Djokovic play in person before the year is out. #bucketlist
My sister Heather and I celebrate my birthday a few weeks early at the House of Blues Gospel Brunch, the likes of which I’ve never seen before or since. Somehow, the people attending think she and I are life partners. Maybe we are, in a way.
February
I have my one and only horrible cold of the season and entertain myself by singing Lou Rawls songs to the dogs. I don’t sound half bad. (I don’t sound half good either.)
My little girl Daisy turns a legendary 17 years old on February 4. I buy her a cheeseburger in the drive-through of the slowest McDonald’s in existence, which, given how old she is, is a near thing. “Let’s go, here, eh?!! We don’t have much time!!”
I turn 45. My parents now have a grey-haired 45yo daughter.
Winter slogs on. I begin working from home, which gives me two additional hours a day to find things to do in the dark hours of winter. I keep myself on a strict daily exercising, showering and lipstick-wearing schedule, despite the temptation to skip a day here and there.
March
March is largely uneventful, except for one thing: DAYLIGHT SAVING TIME. I rejoice.
I celebrate an annual event with my friend Jeff, who baptized me on March 4, 1993. So as of 2019, that’s 26 years of following Jesus. No regerts so far, although it’s not always easy. Although knowing me, I make it harder than it has to be.
Struggling through the last throes of winter. Working from home is a challenge and somewhat isolating.
April
My friend Lady Di and I drive down to Canyon Lake, Texas to visit our friend Rachel and spend the weekend feeding deer, sitting in a hot tub, visiting the famous Gruene and catching up. I have a hard decision looming the entire weekend, but it helps my heart to spend time with dear friends.
Daisy dies on April 18. I sing “You Can Close Your Eyes” by James Taylor to her as she goes. She’s deaf, but it helps me.
The grey skies and showers of April suit my mood. I am bereft.
May
While mourning Daisy, I do something foolish and sign up to foster Westies, and boom! Westie Rescue of North Texas takes me up on it. Within a few days, I welcome Winfield and Tadette, and their sponsor starts the hard sell on me to take them forever. I cave, to no one’s surprise but mine, and immediately rename them Winston and Trixie.
My flowers look amazing, and my little house in spring lifts my spirits – not to mention the new Westies doing their best at being cute to ensure I don’t regret taking them in. They are so much fun!
I begin refinishing a chest of drawers from my aunt Leatrice.
June
For the first time in a year, I drive out to Big Sandy to visit my friends Bonne and Thomas, and it’s a revelation. I need to make these opportunities a priority, so I can sit outside in their “gazoobola” and listen to Thomas play guitar more often. The next morning, they take me through their garden and give me seeds to plant in mine. The circle of life continues.
Djokovic wins Wimbledon, in an epic match against Federer that has people texting and messaging me from all over the world, all “Can you believe this?!?” and I’m like, “Yeah! This is why I love tennis!!” For a moment, tennis makes global headlines, and it’s great. People get it.
July
July was uneventful, full of work and more work, except one weekend Bonne visits. We spend a few hours in downtown McKinney shopping but otherwise just talk and spend time together, which is, in my estimation, a perfect visit.
Alfie significantly declines, peeing all over the house. I follow him around with an old towel and buy him wiener band pants. My heart sinks. Neither of us has been the same since Daisy died.
August
In early August, I drive myself and the Westies up to MO to visit Mom and Dad. I would say it is only a half-successful visit home, because Winston and Trixie apparently forget that they are house-trained. I spend much of the visit following them around with an old towel, not unlike my efforts at home with Alfie. (Alfie stays home with Uncle Josh, who house sits.)
In mid-August, I drive from MO to OH to visit dear friends and attend the Western & Southern Open, seeing Federer and Djokovic play in real time, thereby fulfilling my January promise to myself. #bucketlistfulfilled
On August 22, Alfie dies. I have no song to sing this time. My heart hurts too much.
September
September is a hard month. Alfie’s death hurts more than Daisy’s. Maybe it’s a cumulative sort of pain.
Over Labor Day weekend, I drive out to Big Sandy to visit my friends Bonne and Thomas again. It’s a full house of Reeds and Barfields and their extended families, and I’m proud to be counted one of them. After three days of delicious Bonne-cooking and love, my hurting heart is full. Winston and Trixie are an instant hit with everybody, who threaten to keep them when I leave.
I finally finish the chest of drawers I’ve been working on all summer and stow it in my bedroom, where it looks fantastic. I’m ridiculously proud of it and myself. I lug my next project out to the garage and start sanding.
October
I spend a rollicking Friday night at Wylie High School watching my nieces Isabelle and Lauren play volleyball. I can barely fathom that they are both young ladies and not the toddlers I could have sworn they just were.
I take the AWS Cloud Practitioner exam and fail it, so my mood is in the ditch for a few days.
My mood dips even more with the unseasonably cold and rainy weather.
I apply for a really interesting job, only to find out that, before I can interview with them, I have to pass a test called the “Culture Index,” even though I’m assured that it’s not a test one can fail. “There are no right answers,” my recruiter assures me. But I fail it nonetheless and mope for a few days.
I wind up my next garage refinishing project in record time but enjoy it only half as much. To me, this feels like another failure. In fact, October seems like a string of failures.
Non sequitor: I don’t like working from home all that much.
November
I perk up a bit in November. The 9th Annual Westie Walk for the rescue that I support has a lot of Westies there! I help with set-up/take-down and scritching the dogs, and everyone agrees that I am very good at the latter.
Heather and I go see Tyrone Wells at a small dive down in Deep Ellum. On the way, we’re both dismayed to find out that our favorite Dallas restaurant has closed, and we must resort to The Cheesecake Factory. Consequently, we are both very, very bloated when we arrive at the venue. But it’s a good concert, full of laughter and music, and well worth the drive.
In late November, the Jones and I commence our annual Thanksgiving drive to MO – Clampett-style – in a loaded-down minivan complete with two teenagers and two dogs. At the Kalin homestead, our family tradition ensues, with lots of food, fellowship and football. The Cowboys lose, OF COURSE. #firejasongarrett
December
I participate in a neighborhood women’s Bible study for Advent, in lieu of attending an actual church. I resolve to put some effort into finding a church in 2020.
Heather and the nieces and I get together for our annual Holiday Cookie-Baking Palooza. My house is decorated to the rafters with candles aglow, the dogs are sporting Christmas jammies and an electronic yule log beams from the TV. In my new apron, I bake chocolate chip and cherry cookies, and then get really crazy and whip up some gingerbread cookies for good measure. Even while down in the dumps, I am so seasonal!!
Mid-month, I head out to visit Thomas and Bonne in East Texas again. We spend a lot of time playing “Shanghai” and hanging out in front of a fire. I need these people.
Christmas is another rollicking good time over at the Jones’. Winston takes plummet down a flight of stairs at 5 am, waking the household; we have a near-miss with Brisket Disaster as the meat smoker starts smoking in an unexpected and unwelcome way; and, there is a succession of drone mishaps that starts with a “series of bad decisions.” There’s really no way to explain all that without taking up a lot of time, and we are at the end of the year.
Summary
I feel like Ouiser in Steel Magnolias: “I'm not crazy, M'Lynn. I've just been in a very bad mood for 40 years!” I’ve been in a bad mood since April.
Great things happened in 2019. Adopting Winston and Trixie and seeing Federer and Djokovic play, along with getting to visit beloved friends throughout the year, were definite highlights. But that all happened under extremely hard conditions: Daisy’s and Alfie’s deaths, my job changes, working from home.
I know that there are folks who’ve lost a lot more than a couple of dogs this year. I wish you peace and comfort and a blessed New Year.
I planted a maple tree from Missouri a few days ago, so we’ll see how that grows. I resolve to quit farming my own bullshit, be a little grateful and at least do a couple of push-ups every once in a while. Like I do every year, but this next year will be different, of course. Onward!
