I have kept an electronic copy of every Current article I’ve ever written. After almost 12 years, once a week, I’m fast approaching 600. Six-hundred! And occasionally, when I can’t think of anything about which to muse, I read a few as a reminder of what I was doing in winters past.
I spent each of the last five Januarys, for example, recounting the first delicious dance-mom adventure of the season, sordid tales of dressing-room drama and tarted-up toddlers. Februarys generally cough up a lot of bitterness phlegm, particularly those between 2011 and 2015 when Doo would abandon me with four not-yet-driving tweens and teens during potential Snowpocalypse season and head to the ski slopes with his buddies. And columns from the first half of 2010 and 2016 revolved around house issues, detailing first a drawn-out move that included, but was not limited to, a three-month stint with the in-laws and a busted water heater a day after closing. I wrote extensively about my inability to cope with the stress, including an impressive breakdown at Meijer and accidently voting Republican. Always entertaining.
But, alas, times have changed. My tiny dancer has hung up her competition shoes, I actually look forward to Doo’s boy-cations (a girl needs a break!), and today I’m happy to report that home ownership and I are in a good place.
I do feel a pang of sadness at missing Dancemakers this weekend (remember when I got stuck in the parking garage? Hilarious), but it’s fun to think of 2019 as a new chapter. Who knows what the next 600 columns will bring?