This has been a very strange year, and I won't lie, I am glad that it's coming to a close. We moved from Hermosa Beach to Seattle in January — the third move in less than two years. Kin got a job, left a job, got a new job. I wrote a draft of my book and revised the draft of my book. It felt like we spent the year running in circles. Nothing feels certain; nothing feels complete.

I don't feel like writing a list of what I read or what I wrote or where I went or what I ate. I'm tired.

Good things happened in 2019, of course. These days, we walk more. We eat better. We saw some live music. We traveled (although not often enough together).

And we celebrated ten years together (and one year married). It has, all-in-all, been a wild and wonderful decade — professionally and personally.

It's hard, however, to imagine that the next decade will contain much joy. The world is literally burning. Yes, one can find joy. One can make joy. So we turn the calendar page. We continue. We hope. We must.