It isn’t really the holiday season until the Sweeney family piles into the car with a bunch of suitcases, a few canvases, and some gigantic frames for a minimum of six hours. My little sister is about to be seventeen, and we are not exactly a tiny family, so we get some real quality bonding time in during these trips. By which I mean, we mastered the art of the I’M NOT TOUCHING YOU game.
As the four of us kids have been crammed in the back for the last few years, my parents sit in front and inform us that we can totally fit a few more suitcases, boxes, or thirty pound frames. In the back. Where my parents won’t have to deal with it from the comfort of their front seat thrones.
My poor little sister has the stigma of “baby” status to haunt her forever, so everyone insists that she won’t mind having the paintings piled on top of her head because she’s little. We just need to carve out a little cubby hole for her in the back and she’ll be fiiiine.
This year was a bad year for Sweeney family vehicles, unfortunately, so we had to rent a car instead of piling into my mom’s SUV. There are six of us, plus the suitcases and the inevitable art haul we make on the return trip (my mom owns an art gallery) so my parents requested a minivan.
As it turns out, there was a mix-up with the rental car company and they were out of minivans, but they offered us, for the same price, a fifteen passenger van. After years of sitting nearly in each other’s laps for hours on end, contorting our necks under the new ceiling of canvases, this was the greatest mix-up ever.
Stretched out in the comfort of our own rows, not kicking each other in the face, it is a lot easier to appreciate my fantastic family. After everything that Derrik put us through this year, we all got an extra special lesson on perspective.
Without the easy distraction of harassing everyone else in the car, there is also a lot of time to think about the year that is now coming to an end.
(See what I did there? That was a totally not awkward transition into the year-in-review nonsense that you totally knew was coming because it is December 31st and what the hell else am I going to talk about?)
On the whole, 2011 was a good year. I applied to graduate schools, and actually got acceptance letters. I decided to go to American University of Paris. I had the best birthday month imaginable going to New York, California, and of course, Coachella (lots of Coachella). I drove to the middle of a corn field to stay with an internet friend who I had never met before, but is probably one of my favorite people on the face of the planet. In addition to substitute teaching, telling kids not to drugs, and selling art, I picked up a job involving my social media skillz where I had a whole team of awesome new coworkers. I got to go to spend my last weekend in America at the 20sb Summit and hang out with one of my other favorite people and revel in the general awesomeness of the internet.
I had a debacle of a time getting a visa (both before and after leaving for Paris). Once I survived the pre-departure jitters, I arrived in Paris, found an apartment, started graduate school, and then found a new apartment. I realized that graduate school closely resembles drowning, and strugglebused my way through Paris. I took trips to London, Budapest, and Poland. I made amazing new friends, who provided an invaluable support system when my little brother’s insane drama festival turned my family upside down for a little bit. Then, without my even realizing it, I actually managed to get through my first semester of graduate school (with the help of a lot of coffee).
2011 was pretty fantastic and I have nothing but high hopes for 2012. A thousand thank yous to everyone who made this year as wonderful as it was. Extra thank yous, of course, to my family for being the best group of people I could ever hope to be saddled with for life. Thank you for being awesome and keeping the laughter and SRSLY faces at a minimum when I brought internet friends into our home.
Oh yes, I just had internet friends stay at my house. That story is for another day.