I can't believe that its 2016. I don't know why, but something about just looking at the number 2016 sends me into a spiral of panic. Its 2016. It has been 10 years since high school. Its 2016. We're now closer to 2020 than we are to 2010. 2-0-1-6. If I could type those numbers as capitals, I would. Its 2016.
If I think about it too much, I start hyperventilating a little bit, which either has to do with the new year, or the fact that I have neglected to dust since early December. Probably both.
That's ten years since I graduated high school. And moved to Oklahoma. Little did I know that I wouldn't ever manage to quite escape Oklahoma.
Nine years since I first dated the smartest.
Eight years since I changed my major from English Ed to Graphic Design, despite numerous people informing me that I didn't have the appropriate artistic talent to do so.
Seven years since realizing that I couldn't hack it in the corporate design world. I wasn't good at marketing products. I was good at making people happy.
Six years since I graduated college. And entered the work force while living in a dingy apartment under a guy who had one man raves every night for six months.
Five years since I made the first design that I would sell in the shop. In the midst of planning our wedding, I designed our vows. They would be the bedrock for the shop when it opened.
Four years and four months(ish) since the smartest and I said "I do".
Four years and three months since I opened the shop, at the urging of the people who know me best.
Four years since I quit my job to design full time. How lucky am I? Infinitely lucky.
Three years (well, a little over three years) since the puppy came home with us.
Two years since I listed my first product that would top Google Image search and Pinterest search results.
One year since I decided to give writing a rest
And 6 months since I decided that writing had been rested enough, and I decided to conquer one of the pieces of my bucket list.
And I've gotta tell you guys... I might be a little panicked when I see those numbers on the calendar that hangs by my desk. But this year feels like it's going to be a good one. Provided that I remember to dust this week, and stop hyperventilating.