Happy New Year. It was a holiday season of reflection this year.  We looked at our present, remembered our past, and tried to envision and plan for our future.  I saved my PTO and took the last 4 days of the year to play games, watch movies, and drink cocoa with my kids. We discovered some great new-to-us games — King Domino, Taco Takeover (stupid and hilarious), That’s It, and Carcassone, for example. I made my mom’s split pea soup recipe with the ham bone from Christmas dinner — delicious as usual.

Then we said good-bye to the most painful year we’ve ever experienced … and that’s about all I want to say on that since I’m in a public place right now. I don’t want ANOTHER “this lady’s crazy” sign posted by the cash register (see also, Eat ‘N Park).

I resolved to take better care of myself in 2018, and I mean that in a very not-New-Year-resolution way. Exercise — especially yoga — helps me address the stress of missing Ken and helps with the remarkably sedentary life I lead working from home. Walking to the bus, walking through the halls at work, walking the quarter mile to the bathroom in our enormous office building — all of that is missed these days in my little office at home.  It’s difficult to motivate myself but, as Ian counseled me, if I can’t encourage myself to exercise every day, then I should exercise as often as possible, which will gradually become every day. What a wise young man he is.

We had a family meeting last week. It was long and painful but we set ground rules and listened to each other and talked about where we are. And we’ve decided, after tightening our belts and pinching pennies until they cried, that it is time to sell the house.  The first task in that process is to finish making the repairs on the “honey-do” list Ken made for me. I’ve added to that list since he died of course but I’ve also managed to scratch a few things off (shout out to youtube DIY videos!).

In addition, we need to sort through all of Ken’s stuff. This morning, the boys and I got up early (ate pancakes) and started a “sort and purge” in the basement. We now have a big pile of stuff to recycle, a smaller pile for Construction Junction (Pittsburgh’s construction re-sale non-profit), and another pile of hard-to-recycle items that we’ll be taking to one of those pay-to-recycle events in March.  We’re working in 2-hour blocks because it’s very emotional and overwhelming but we’re going back down in the morning to start again.

I’m not ready to actually think about moving out and that’s another topic we’ll leave here. We can talk about that later…much later. I already had a long, wrenching, sobbing tantrum while sitting on the side of my bed. I don’t WANT TO leave — the lopsided peach tree  Ian and I planted 4 years ago that had its first crop last year (all eaten by squirrels while we watched the eclipse), —  the spring flower garden that Ian and I have worked on every Fall since he was old enough to put the bulbs in the ground, —  the deck that Ken and I used to sit on before he got too sick to sit outside. But I know that home is the memories we carry with us, not the building we live it.

AND now I’m crying…in Starbucks.

Peace.