just getting started

In 2016 I stopped doing things. I didn’t know blogging would be one of those things, but the year was full of surprises. If 2016 had just one word: unexpected.

Before the unexpected barged in, though, there was the Monthly Stop program. It was inspired in part by my sabbatical quarter. In January I stopped going to work (more precisely I stopped going to class; you have to do something that resembles work during sabbatical in order to keep getting paid). Another inspiration was Drynuary, the awkwardly-named abstinence movement which hip people join each New Year’s morning to pardon all their holiday splurging. But I was going on two fun trips in January, so I decided Sobruary -- a sonic improvement and a shorter month, even in leap year -- would be better. In February I stopped drinking for 29 days.

Not going to class and not drinking was so illuminating that I decided to stop doing something different each month all year. This is the kind of program you get to pass the time with if you are healthy and privileged enough and have no children to distract you. In March I stopped eating meat. Just meat that was not fish, really, because I was going to Hawaii for half of March and I have no idea how to not eat fish there. Halfway through the flight, I thoughtlessly ate two of the pork rinds my husband offered me from his snack bag. Once you’ve blown it with pork rinds there’s no reason to go on; I had stopped eating meat that was not fish for ten days.

Only slightly discouraged, I made April anti-caffeine month. This might sound harder than it was, because I’m not a regular coffee drinker; but still, no caffeinated tea and no chocolate was no small feat. In fact, I only managed it for a week. For sure, the program’s trajectory seemed dismal, but I dug in and stopped smoking for May. It was a remarkably easy three weeks until I had a big fight with someone about something else and said fuck it. In June I slunk back to the meat idea, revised to account for the inevitable fried pork, and I stopped eating red meat for the whole month. In July I kept not eating red meat, and also stopped eating chicken, for the whole month. Winning.

On August 1^st it was my birthday, and at 12am I stopped looking at Facebook. My husband relayed to me the wishes filling up my wall while I enjoyed a few texts and phone calls. That was the end of me and FB. In September I happily put my account to sleep. I also stopped going shopping for anything but groceries. No clothes, shoes, books, toys, did I say clothes? No nothing but genuine sustenance. Phil bought me thermal underwear while we were camping in the Oregon high desert, and I may have cheated once at the pet store late in the month, but any control I ever had over the program was bulldozed by then anyway.

At the end of September, we got a puppy.

We went to a Ginger’s Pet Rescue event at a Renton strip mall, randomly, to see what Formosan Mountain dogs were like. They were sweet looking -- medium sized short hairs, mostly black with big stand-up ears and long noses – and they were barking up a clamor as they pushed against their crate doors. But in the middle of the row of them was a blonde mutt, of similar size and short hair, with big stand-up ears, and striking hazel eyes. He was sitting up calmly in his crate, silent.

Well, we’re here, let’s get a little closer. We knelt in front of the crate, the shelter rep opened the crate door, and our dog bounded into Phil’s chest and put his arms around his neck. I did not expect to drive home with a 50-pound animal in the car. I wasn’t ready, the house wasn’t ready, the two cats living there were not ready. I was a little bit angry and very in love.

In October I stopped waiting to do things until I thought I was ready.

In November I stopped thinking America might be okay, and I stopped paying attention. But that only lasted two months because in 2017 I had to start doing my whole job again, helping students navigate and re-chart these choppy waters. In 2017 I also had to stop living in the city. I needed quiet, room to breathe, sea air, ample parking, empty tree-lined roads. Our dog needed a yard. And regardless of how ready we were or weren’t for such a big move, living by the cove in a peninsula town population 2000 with a good dog has opened the world up. There’s room for more.