I'm drinking wine and writing poetry for the first time in years. Maybe I can compile it, finally. Maybe I will write my book.

I hate that the infinite sadness starts in January. When I should be happily planning Sophia's party (she wants a pink party and she is getting a pink party. I cannot believe she is going to be 3. She is picking out her own parties and decorations and telling me what she wants at her party. She is singing Happy Birthday to herself while pounding the keys of her piano. I am so blessed.) I guess this is the new normal. Like "they" said 4 years ago. A new normal.