Remember the 13 in ’13? Good, neither did I. In fact, I wouldn’t even earn a gentlewoman’s C if I were to grade myself. By my generous calculations, I fulfilled 3 out of 13 goals, which for you math geeks is 23%.
But rather than focus on what I didn’t do, I’d like to focus on what I did achieve.
I may not have published the sequel to My Night with George Clooney, but I did start my first novel – and am more than halfway done writing it.
I didn’t get spin certified (thank to the concussion I sustained one day before training was to begin) but I rediscovered yoga, which has been a savior.
I hosted nothing even coming close to a full-fledged dinner party, though I did have people over for a plethora of meals, including Thanksgiving. And I brought food to other people’s houses for their events. In fact, when I look back on the year, I cooked quite a lot. Sometimes just for me.
I didn’t make it to Italy or back to Hawaii, but I did manage New York City, Lake Michigan, Maine, New Hampshire, Philadelphia, Chicago and San Francisco/Napa. I made lots of treks across the river (and through to woods) to Nancy’s house.
I barely know more about Italian wine than I did a year ago, but I’m no longer reluctant to order it in restaurants. I mean, how am I really going to figure out that region if I don’t experiment and figure out what I like and don’t like.
I didn’t make an iconic fashion purpose, fall in love or refinance my house. But I went on some great dates, started my own company, found good life-work balance with the boys and had some great belly laughs. I tried to be a better friend, listen more, put my devices down when the kids are talking to me, and generally be more attentive.
I haven’t started to think about what challenges to set for myself next year. But in closing out 2013, I don’t look back with regrets, only awe at the way life evolves and my ability to adapt, at times with tears but mostly with grace.