It’s December 30th, and I’m sitting on the sofa writing this post that I’ll share tomorrow for New Year’s Eve. The tree is still lit, though looking a little bare without presents underneath. There’s a fire going because Georgia has finally given us some actual winter weather. Remy-dog is snoring at my side, Callie-cat is draped across my lap (making typing with one arm awkwardly stretched over a snoozing torbie quite the challenge), and Finn-cat is probably outside under the front rose bush in his favorite sunbeam.
Me? I’m reflecting on 2025, and it’s not too dramatic to say that my biggest emotion is “good riddance—and don’t come back.”
The Year That Tested Us
2025 has been a challenge. Aside from <gestures broadly at everything in the world right now>, here’s what happened in our corner of it:
My work implemented a full-time return-to-office mandate. After years of remote flexibility, the adjustment has been brutal. Trading my home office for a daily commute, open seating, constant noise, and fluorescent lights has been tough.
My partner switched jobs and took some much-needed time off in between. Even though it’s a wanted change, a new job is stressful, and we’re only just now settling into new routines.
I lost my beloved EOS convertible when it was totaled in a freak driveway accident. I mourned that car and the loss of top-down driving, not just in the mountains, but as part of my daily commute on clear, warm days. The joy of my little convertible was gone before I was ready.
Callie ruptured her CCL and had to have surgery. It’s an expensive procedure requiring six weeks of limited activity for an otherwise active and incredibly stubborn cat. If you’ve never tried to keep an active cat from jumping, running, or climbing for SIX. WHOLE. WEEKS., it’s an Olympic sport in patience and creativity. (Shout out to Veterinary Referral Surgical Practice in Roswell, GA—they were amazing.)
As if that’s not enough some pretty major HVAC and plumbing repairs popped up at year’s end. We love our old house on a creek, but character sometimes comes with expensive surprises.
And finally, between expenses and job changes, we decided to forgo a travel vacation this year. We cancelled plans we’d been excited about and just stayed home. It was the wise choice, but not the fun one.
The Bright Spots Worth Keeping
But even in a hard year, there were good moments and things I want to hold onto and carry forward.
On New Year’s Day 2025, we scored cheap tickets to the Peach Bowl and watched the Longhorns beat Arizona State. As a Texas girl, there’s nothing quite like watching live football, especially when it’s MY team winning.
We finished our third year as season ticket holders for the Gwinnett Stripers (AAA baseball team) and renewed for our fourth season with upgraded seats. Going to ball games has become a much-loved part of our routine, breaking up the weeks with something fun to anticipate.
Going back to the office was hard, but I gained an intern/mentee who brightened my days and has become a lifelong friend. I also deepened friendships with other coworkers, so I guess that’s the Universe balancing things out!
Losing the EOS was painful, but after much car shopping, the right car appeared at exactly the right moment: a 2025 Acura Integra. It was everything I wanted without upgraded packages full of things I didn’t need, right on budget, zippy and fun to drive. And if I can’t have a convertible, at least I can open the sunroof!
The biggest change? I started taking Mounjaro (tirzepatide) this year. It’s been several months now, and yes—I’ve lost weight. But more significantly, I’ve noticed a real reduction in inflammation. Less joint pain, clearer thinking, just generally feeling better in my body. It’s completely changed how I think about food and how I eat, and I know it’s going to impact how I write and cook in 2026.
Letting Go and Moving Forward
As I mentioned in my last Friday Roundup, I’m stealing my friend Amanda’s New Year’s Eve ritual. Tonight and tomorrow night (NYE) I’ll write things down on slips of paper. The loss of the EOS. The frustration of those first months back in the office. The anxiety about starting medication. The stress of job changes and financial surprises. Other things I want to let go of.
All of it, on little slips of paper.
At midnight, I’ll feed them into the fireplace along with dried herbs I harvested from the garden earlier this fall, and I’ll watch them burn. While they burn, I’ll be bidding those things farewell and setting intentions for a more positive, productive, and purposeful 2026.
Tomorrow: my intentions for the year ahead and how I’ll be cooking (and posting) with clarity and purpose in 2026.