Goodbye, 2006. Don’t let the door hit your butt on the way out.

We should have known the kind of year it would be when we rang it in by going to bed at 9:30. Ash was sick with the flu and had to work on New Year’s Day (a Sunday), so the partying was left to the youngsters. We never felt so uncool. (And whether we admit it or not, cool still has some currency around here, so it was kind of depressing.)

Two-Thousand and Six has been The Year of Growing Pains. Granted, there have been some bright spots. We wrote and published a book (out next month), which is pretty incredible, considering neither one of us have graduated from college and we’ve started talking in chatspeak. (At first it was just to be funny, and now we’re just lazy. STFU!) Our housechurch kicks ass…learning to be church rather than do church has been a difficult and rewarding journey. I got a new job in the company I’ve worked at for almost 3 years, and finally realize that people who say “I love my job!” aren’t just being polite. We got a dog. Stephen King came out with his best book since The Stand. The Democrats won back Congress (but we’ll see if they make any good use of it).

On the flip side, though…I started back to school in the summer to finish the degree I don’t have, and dropped out due to a pesky little emotional breakdown. Money’s been tight. Having a dog and no yard has been a bit trickier than we imagined. Ash’s work situation has had some pretty serious hills and valleys (and the valleys have been deeper than the hills have been high). The world got even funkier than it was in 2005. James Brown died. One of the top-charting songs of the year was a catchy, horrifying little ditty called “Smack That.” (Me: “Did he just say ’till you get sore’???” Ash: “Yep.”)

All in all, I’m not sorry to see 2006 head on out. Buh-bye. Here’s to 2007: The Year of Painless Maturity.

Happy New Year, my friends. May you be richly blessed.

One thought on “Goodbye, 2006. Don’t let the door hit your butt on the way out.

  1. Morphea

    Have a lovely New Year’s celebration, everyone. As with Christmas, also celebrated with my parents, this will be a dry night for me, my husband, brother, sister-in-law (who’s breastfeeding and we all, by unwritten rule, cheerfully go without until we get Oz eating not-made-by-Elizabeth food) and parents, who are natural teetotallers (the notable exception being when they used to visit whatever Episcopalian church R. and I attended, stared nervously at the common cup and invariably coughed and spluttered when they rediscovered the ‘Pisco’s scorn for grape juice).

    However, Mom and Dad ARE ensconced in a hotel nearly at the base of the Space Needle, which means we’re going to 1. celebrate the New Year in our beloved city, at least, and not Spokane, and 2. we’re going to see killer fireworks close up in comfort and relative safety. Not to mention getting high as kites on Martinelli’s. Oh yeah.

    Aly, you and Bryan have changed our lives in many ways, and have especially felt close this year. I feel sure that if you moved to Seattle all your troubles would melt away as ours did, and honestly, there’s more sun here than these web-feet let on.

    Love to you all. I love talking to you every day.


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