Good riddance, I think a number of people would say to 2016. Too many neat people have died, too many not-great things have happened around the world, and at home. Too many masks have been ripped off, for good and for ill. Certain places have gotten more “interesting,” and not in the “Oh, that’s fantastic-ly neat!” sense.
On the other hand . . .
I wrote four and a third novels, plus enough words in the Alexi’s Tale universe to count as another novel.
The Dental Mess seems to be sorted out. To make a long and painful story short, My skeleton and my muscles and nerves don’t get along, either in my back (as I discovered almost six years ago) or in my face. The mis-match is probably why I’ve had to wear either braces or retainers since I was seven. The last two years culminated in, more or less, moving my teeth forward and right, in effect shifting my jaw to where it should be and taking pressure off my muscles and tempro-mandibular joints.
I’ve lost six pounds since September.
I had an academic paper proposal accepted.
The older students are telling the younger students that they really want to take Miss Red’s class – it’s hard but it’s really good and gets them ready for . . . Coach D. Coach D goes hard and fast and takes no prisoners. And after him comes Sister K. Sister K is a fantastic AP teacher who has been known to drop administrators with a single glare.
I made it to LibertyCon, got to see a lot of people I know in e-space in the flesh, learned a lot, and managed to not get tossed out of the SUV and left on the side of I-40 for egregious punning. (Which has nothing to do with my insisting on hiding in the back where the driver and co-pilot couldn’t reach me.)
The roses made it through a dry year, as did most of the other plants.
I survived two major concerts in six weeks.
A Carpathian Campaign had the best release to date, for which I thank you.
Edited Friday at 1104 to add: Oh, yeah, and the earthquake. Almost forgot the earthquake in Oklahoma that rattled me one otherwise quiet Saturday AM. Rattled as in shook the house, leading to comments like “Hey, that was an earthquake,” as opposed to mentally rattled. I’ve ridden through small quakes before, in California on my first visit.