After spending NYE turning up to the Puffin Rock countdown and sipping Welch’s sparkling cider til we puked (or thought about all the times we had puked in years past, thanked God we had the good sense (and the million children) to save us from making heinous decisions, and then cried into our Cheerios this morning at 6:45 a.m.)–here we are, in the made-up year of 2018! Can we start saying years without the “2000” prefix now? I mean we’re pretty much two decades into this century, I feel like it’s safe. Whatever, I’m doing it.
This year promises to be even more action-packed than good ole ’17, but with more active action and not so much barfing and bed-resting. I’m looking forward to it actually. We here at the house of Toni are gonna play so hard/pray so hard/grow so hard/learn so hard/read so hard/school so hard/sport so hard/be bomb so hard, and the best part is, I’m removing all the pressure by making no resolutions–NO NOT EVEN ONE. No reading lists or weight loss goals for me; just gonna pick up awesome-looking books and read them if I feel like it when I feel like it. Gonna eat good food and run for the fun of it, because my heart’s in great shape and because I can. Why not? Maybe I’ll walk a little, who knows? But first things first: survive the cold temps (60 degrees or below). The word of the year is WING, people, and that’s what I’ll be doing, WINGING IT, although making chicken wings works too so if that’s where your mind went then I’m glad to know you, friend.
I have some rough goals that won’t truly be achieved unless they happen naturally, like, idk, love my husband and children more awesomely–I have no set plans to ensure the success of this vague idea but I am ready for God to grow me in the coming 12 months so that when ’18 draws to a close, I’ll have ended it a better person than the one who started it.
And I already can’t wait.