2025 Year End Review

JANUARY
I kick off January by joining the annual pilgrimage of New Year’s Resolutioners to the gym. The head fitness trainer puts me through a “quick assessment,” which turns out to be one of the most ignominious moments of my adult life. I quit immediately, before they can upsell me on protein powder or a commemorative T-shirt.

North Texas gets snow, which is apparently the highlight of the year for my dogs. Both boys fling themselves outside like caffeinated toddlers. It might be Wolfie’s first snow ever, and he takes it very personally—in a good way.

Meanwhile, the Australian Open is happening at unholy hours, so I’m up in the middle of the night cheering Novak into the semifinals, which is honestly amazing for a guy who’s basically the tennis version of a Highlander.

I sign up to host another exchange student, and Brittani the coordinator begins sending me profiles like I’m adopting a small human from a catalog.

FEBRUARY
The Kansas City Chiefs faceplant in the Super Bowl in one of the ugliest defeats I’ve ever witnessed. I’m still recovering emotionally.

I finally get a new dog door installed after months of dealing with one that looked—and functioned—like a saloon door in an old Western. This new one is sleek, beautiful and probably smarter than I am. I admire it twice daily. The dogs approve.

Rescue life turns feral when we take in FIVE Westies from a breeder who decided to “liquidate inventory,” like they’re clearance items at T.J. Maxx. It’s chaos, but they’re young and relatively healthy, so we get them all adopted before collapsing into small rescue-shaped puddles.

Other than turning 51 (which I celebrated by…existing), February is basically a long nap with bad weather.

MARCH
March arrives and announces absolutely nothing. I’m over winter and ready to fight the next cold front with my bare hands.

But then—big news! Mia, a 15-year-old from Berlin who likes dogs, tennis, and America (in that order—good girl) will be my next exchange student. She arrives in August, and I start practicing my Cool Host Mom energy immediately.

In tennis news, Novak reaches the Miami Open final only to lose to some guy named Jakub—pronounced YAH-koob—which does not make me feel better about any of it.

Wolfie has his first annual vet exam at our new clinic and is deeply offended by the entire experience. Tail down. Ears back. Pure betrayal.

APRIL
April kicked off with me jetting to the DC area for an admin conference, where I promptly peaked professionally by winning a Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament against almost a hundred other adults. Yes, a hundred grown people slapped their hands together in unison to determine corporate supremacy, and I somehow emerged victorious. I’d love to say I used strategy, psychology or even mild intelligence, but the truth is I just cycled through the three like a malfunctioning robot. Still won a $25 Starbucks gift card, though—so clearly I’m unstoppable.

I then joined another gym. This one was a personal training studio run by a guy named Trey. I’m convinced all personal trainers are required by law to be named Trey or Jax or something that sounds like it belongs on an energy drink can. Anyway, Trey is great, the space is small enough that I can’t freak out at the other worker-outers, and I actually love it.

I have my first video call with Mia, my future exchange student, and she’s exactly as adorable and nervous as any 15-year-old preparing to move across the world should be. I do my best reassuring, like, “It’ll be great! Totally fine! Everything’s blue skies!”—completely sidestepping the part where I haven’t even figured out what color her bathroom is supposed to be at this point.

My childhood friend Nikki rolls into town with her boyfriend, her dog, and her travel trailer—basically her entire personality packed into one vehicle. We spend a relaxing afternoon at Lake Tawakoni catching up.

The month ends with me being summoned for jury duty, which I was weirdly excited about. I arrived on a stormy day, ready to dispense justice like an off-brand Judge Judy, but alas, they did not choose me. Their loss.

MAY
I keep working out at the gym—this one is called Alloy, presumably because "Sweat & Regret" was taken—and I actually start seeing real improvements. Turns out doing the workouts instead of just paying for them helps.

My niece Isabelle graduates from Colorado Christian University. I don’t make it up to Denver (tragic), but I do take a trip to Missouri the following weekend to watch my niece Kinzie graduate high school. Both nieces hit major milestones, and I’m sitting there like a proud Tante who is totally not crying—just leaking aggressively from the face. Isabelle is engaged to Garret now, so that’s another milestone I’m emotional about.

Roland Garros begins, and Novak actually shows up to play tennis, which automatically makes my life 40% better. Two weeks of Grand Slam bliss commence.

I paint my guest bathroom for Mia, with Heather’s help AGAIN—because painting that bathroom has apparently become a family tradition at this point. When we're done, the color looks suspiciously like “fleshy peach,” which did not match the visionary masterpiece in my imagination, but it’s a bathroom, so I’ve decided emotional detachment is best.

JUNE
Novak loses in the Roland Garros semifinals to Jannik Sinner, who is slicing through the draw like a ninja in a tennis skirt, so honestly, no shame there. Novak reaching a Grand Slam semi at 38 is equivalent to most people completing a 5K without needing medical attention.

June is otherwise quiet. I get hit with surprise expenses, so I have to quit the gym. As much as I adored it, I adore money slightly more.

I have my annual well-woman exam and get some spectacular news: my reproductive organs have officially entered retirement. No more monthly nonsense. I am FREE, like a liberated, feral woodland creature.

JULY
July is Wimbledon month, which means it’s time for my annual ritual of yelling at the TV like Novak can actually hear me. He makes it to the semis before getting yeeted out by Jannik Sinner. Apparently, Sinner is now the Official New Tennis Villain™—at least according to me. “I love Sinner!!” Mia texts. Oh boy. I’m already bracing myself for months of spirited tennis debates where she says “Sinner is the future” and I say “shhhh.”

Mid-July—also known as Satan’s sauna—finds me in NYC visiting my beloved Melina and her family. We stomp up and down Manhattan like we’re training for the Olympics in power-walking. We see everything, talk nonstop, eat delicious food, and sweat through every piece of clothing we brought. I adored it, but it was still New York in July, so returning to Texas, the dogs, and Mia-prep felt blessedly like stepping back into my natural habitat (with slightly less humidity).

AUGUST
August, and MIA HAS LANDED. She bursts out of international arrivals with two huge suitcases, a huge smile, and the kind of hug that immediately erases all my pre-arrival anxiety. A core memory has been created. We spend the next few days getting her settled at home, introducing her to friends, and giving her a grand tour of my life, which is mostly dogs, Target, and my office.

Then she starts school, and in her very first actual tennis match ever, she WINS. Like, legitimately wins. We both lose our minds on the court like she just clinched Wimbledon. We celebrate properly: Taco Bell, a minor league baseball game, and her first high school football game—the holy trinity of Americana.

Isabelle has her bridal shower! It’s officially Getting Real™. She receives gorgeous lingerie, of course. Meanwhile, Tante—ever the prude—provides a wholesome pajama set suitable for someone entering a monastery.

SEPTEMBER
I get a head cold that refuses to leave, lingering like an apartment squatter. I eventually drag myself to the Minute Clinic for pharmaceuticals because I’ve lost the will to tough it out and am starting to sound like Lou Rawls.

Pastor Jeff comes into town for a church visit, and Heather, Mia, and I go hear him preach. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in years, and thankfully he still knows how to deliver a sermon without making me want to sneak out for a tan (yes, I actually went to the tanning bed once during – not one of his – a sermon in college. Made it back before the sermon was over). He comes over for dinner afterward, and it’s wonderful—old friends, good conversation and only one coughing fit from me.

Novak loses again, this time in the US Open semis to Alcaraz, a rising star I also love to hate. But honestly, Novak’s still going deep into Slams, so I’ll take it. My hope lives on. My blood pressure…less so.

In utterly devastating news, on the last day of September, I’m told by Nole’s vet that he has heartworms. Treatment starts in a month.

OCTOBER
October sweeps Mia and me off to Big Sandy for a wholesome weekend with the Reeds. We carve pumpkins, play cards, and generally behave like we’re auditioning for a fall-themed Hallmark movie. Mia seems to enjoy being out of Dallas and meeting new humans—always a plus.

Meanwhile, I am a walking stress-ball with legs because of Nole’s heartworms. Truly, if stress were a sport, I’d be on a Wheaties cereal box. My tension with work as well doesn’t help, and Mia and I quickly realize we are two very different creatures with wildly different life expectations. She begins spending a lot of time at a friend’s house, and honestly? Great. Fabulous. Please go. Live your best teenage life. Because she is clearly not living it sitting quietly on the couch next to me while I spiral about veterinary medicine.

Mia turns 16 in October. I wake her up by blasting “Good Morning Starshine,” which earns us a rare, magical kitchen dance. For about 90 seconds, we are perfectly in sync—two stars aligned in the universe before drifting back into our separate orbits.

Homecoming arrives. Mia takes a platonic date and appears to have the time of her life, proven by the fact that she completely misses curfew. I am unamused. Having hard conversations is my personal kryptonite, so I spend the entire talk sounding like I’m auditioning for “Calm Yet Disappointed Parent” in a low-budget after-school special. Being a mom is hard. Being a conflict-avoidant mom is harder.

For Halloween, Mia transforms into a butterfly and flutters off with friends. I, however, spend the evening barricaded in the back of the house with the blinds closed like a Halloween Doomsday Prepper. Nole has just had his first heartworm treatment and must remain on strict crate rest, and Wolfie responds to doorbells as if he’s been personally challenged to a duel.

NOVEMBER
By November, Mia is spending so much time at her friend’s house that I start wondering if I should start forwarding her mail there. I reach out to our exchange student coordinator (probably too late) for wisdom, guidance and possibly a magic spell, and she gives me some genuinely helpful ideas to help us reconnect.

Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, it becomes clear that Mia and I are operating on entirely different wavelengths—like she’s on FM radio and I’m broadcasting from a weather station in AM (an old person metaphor, for sure). Eventually, it’s obvious she’d be much happier in a different home. I’m deeply disappointed, of course, but I want what’s best for her. And if that means supporting her move, then that’s what I’ll do—even if it feels a bit like failing. So she moves out.

Meanwhile, Isabelle is still marching confidently toward marrying Garret, and I’m absolutely here for every minute of it. On a perfect November day, the two of them tie the knot. Their wedding is beautiful – quite possibly the most beautiful and meaningful one I’ve ever attended. I’m a bit of an emotional puddle, though—because somehow my baby went and became a married lady, and nobody checked with me first.

Thanksgiving finds me hosting Justin, Heather and Lauren. I’m grateful for a full house and dining room table, and even if the Chiefs lost their game against the Cowboys, I’m blessed.

DECEMBER

December is almost quiet, which is exactly my speed. The office parties are happening (I do not attend), everyone is full of holiday cheer (no complaints there), and I am over here enjoying my very calm, very introverted winter season.

On the rescue front, Janie and I attend a dog agility event where WRNT receives a perpetual gift in memory of our friend and former board member Jo. It is touching, meaningful, and the kind of moment where you can tell how deeply someone was loved. Also, the dogs jump over tiny hurdles, which is always a good time.

Heather, Justin, Lauren, Turci, and I go see The Gift of Christmas again. Tom is dazzled, which is exactly what I was going for. If there is a way to convert someone to Christmas pageantry, this show is it.

Lauren and Heather stop by to make Christmas cookies. It is one of my favorite traditions with my nieces, even though we are missing Isabelle this year. She is flying in from Phoenix on Christmas Day with her new husband Garret, possibly to judge our frosting technique.

The holiday itself finds me at Heather and Justin’s, celebrating with my nieces, Justin’s dad, and Garret, our newest family member and instant cookie-eating recruit.

I close out the year with a final check-up for Nole, who has been going through heartworm treatment for the past couple of months. He passes with flying colors and gets a clean bill of health. I do not actually exhale; I just deflate like a balloon someone let go of in slow motion.

WRAP-UP

2025 was a good year. No complaints. Well, normal human complaints, but nothing that requires a Greek chorus. It was the best of times and the worst of times, rotating in shifts.

One thing I have noticed. Everyone approaches a new year like a cosmic reset button. “This is the year I become my ultimate form,” or “In 2026 I will transform my life, my habits, and possibly my bone structure.” Hope springs eternal, and I respect that, but I no longer believe the calendar rolling over at midnight performs magic. Life just keeps going, same plotline, new episode. We can get better or worse at any point, which honestly removes a lot of pressure from January’s shoulders.

Happy New Year!