2025 is finally over.
I can’t say I’m convinced 2026 will be better, but I keep hoping. Every new year I tell myself this will be the one that breaks the cycle in a good way—yet somehow, each year arrives with a fresh batch of headaches. That’s life, I suppose.
We rang in the new year in our usual way, minus one tradition. First came dinner: homemade beer rice, pepperoni pizza, and cornbread.
Yes, the menu sounds a little chaotic, but we were going for comfort and simplicity. The hubs adores rice—especially beer rice—and cornbread. I’m Team Pizza. So we made things we knew the other would enjoy. No pressure, no fuss.
As I mentioned in my Christmas post, both our mental and physical energy has been dragging for months. Then came the news that two of my closest friends—one in the U.S., one here in Argentina—are dealing with serious health issues. It’s left me shaken and worried.
I don’t need hundreds of friends or thousands of followers to feel validated. I can count my circle on one hand, and that’s more than enough. I’d rather have a few loyal people than a crowd of half-hearted connections.
If I sound bitter, it’s because I’ve been burned—repeatedly—by people I once considered close. Some demand endless care but never return it. And I know I’m not the only one who’s experienced that.
The hubs has had his own wake-up call too. After years of showing up for others who never showed up for him, he’s ready to cut ties with anyone who doesn’t value his heart or his time. The biggest sting for him this year? Only two family members wished him a Happy New Year—and those two almost never interact with him otherwise. No likes, no comments, no check-ins. When they do reach out, it’s just GIFs. No real conversation, no “How are you?”
Anyway—back to New Year’s Eve.
After dinner came dessert: apple pie with “NYE” baked right into the crust, homemade pudding, fruit salad, candy, brownies—the works.
When midnight hit here in Argentina, we didn’t leap out of our seats. We were deep into disaster movies. But we did pause long enough to clink glasses and say “Cheers!” before returning to the cinematic destruction.
Speaking of movies, here’s what we watched and recommend:
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Geostorm
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The Day After Tomorrow
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Greenland
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Armageddon
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Skyscraper
Around 2 a.m., it was finally champagne time. I may have accidentally launched the cork directly into the hubs’ back—equal parts hilarious and terrifying. He survived.
Then came our real New Year’s countdown. If you’ve read my previous New Year posts, you know the deal: we don’t officially celebrate until midnight Eastern Standard Time back in the States, because we’re both Floridians—East Coast babies forever. So we streamed the Times Square ball drop, and that’s when the year truly begins for us.
As soon as I hugged the hubs, the tears came. Not cute little movie tears. Full emotional waterfall. This has become a thing for me the last few years. Maybe it’s my system finally purging the year. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s grief or hope colliding at the same time. I don’t know. But the breakdown seems to grow each year.
Thank goodness for champagne. Liquid emotional support.
The one tradition we missed? The grapes. Every year we each eat 12 grapes at midnight, one for each wish or intention for the new year. This year, the grapes at the store were either sad, moldy, or nonexistent. So we pivoted.
Jelly beans to the rescue. And let me tell you: every single bean carried a fully emotionally-charged, Wiccan-blessed intention for 2026. Because sometimes magic is less about ingredients and more about intention.
No resolutions this year. I never keep them, so why set myself up for failure? But I did promise myself this:
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Get out of the house more
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Stop pouring energy into people who don’t pour any back
And that’s enough.
To anyone reading this—if your 2026 is off to a beautiful start, I’m genuinely thrilled for you. If it isn’t, I hope whatever you’re carrying gets lighter with time.
Until next time…
