This is how reading feels to me. It's an experience I want for my children, too.

I started trying to teach my son to read about a year ago, using a system that I cobbled together based on what seemed to make sense - having him sound out the titles of books before we read them, having him sound out words within the books here and there, and following along with my finger so he'd be able to see where we were.

It didn't work. He was constantly frustrated, wanting to get to the fun part (the part where he didn't have to put in work), and it seemed like we never made any forward progress. I mentioned this to my friend Erin, who happens to be a third-grade teacher, and the next day at school dropoff she handed me a stack of the most boring-looking books in the world. They're black-and-white and don't contain especially compelling stories...but I am not kidding when I tell you that what they did was skyrocket my son forward in a matter of weeks. The books make him feel good about himself - they move you forward incrementally, making kids feel confident in their abilities while gradually introducing new concepts - and just reading two or three a night has been nothing short of transformative.

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I am not typically a "trend person." I have, for example, very little desire to layer fishnet stockings under my jeans (or wear jeans at all, if we're being honest about where I am at the moment).

This is not because I am disinterested in trends (fashion or otherwise); it's because I'm lazy. And because the only people who see me most days are the FedEx guy and my kids. Not 100% sure about the FedEx guy, but I do know that neither of the latter two appreciate a pop of color unless the pop in question happens to be from the nice man in the musical truck who makes mom mad because he will not stop showing up before dinner.

By now you've seen the "2016 WAS THE WORST" meme at every turn (my own contribution is above; you're welcome). And it really was. The worst.

But just because things (by which I mean our democracy, and our country, and our world, and, okay, the future of mankind) are looking a little bleak at the moment, that doesn't mean that it's all bad out there. It also doesn't mean we shouldn't have hope; to the contrary, now is when we need hope the most.

So - and I say this as the Grinchiest New Year's Eve-er of all time; a person who views this holiday as little more than a vehicle for crippling hangovers and guilt over broken resolutions - tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, let's celebrate the fact that millions and millions of people all over our country are coming together in ways they never have before, united by the desire to prove once and for all that love speaks louder. And then let's wake up to a brand new year, where anything's possible.

Me, mere minutes before innocence was lost forever.

Cropped Sweater (similar) Midi Skirt (similar) Gold Heels

I've eaten a lot of respectably adventurous things in my day. Century eggs, for example. Blood soup. Pulverized pork scraps. But never have I ever actually laid eyes upon a creature, slain it all on my lonesome, and then consumed it.