This year’s Christmas was a quiet kind of wonderful. Mostly because everyone was healthy, which is a top-tier gift — especially if you remember how my holiday started last year.

Genesee has been counting down to this day since about August, blasting Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas Is You during shower time every morning just to prepare. I, too, was excited for the season, but when you’re an established, critical-thinking 11-year-old like me, the magic of the holiday feels different than it did when I was 10. It’s still fun — just in a more grown-up way, you know?

Most traditions stayed intact, with a few new ones added in:

• Aunt Julie organized some games involving red Solo cups — no alcohol, just silliness, strategy, and high-stakes bragging rights.
  
• I greeted guests on Christmas morning by serenading them with my newly acquired saxophone skills, tip jar included. Because that’s what you call a bold entrepreneurial move!
  
• We also had some friendly foosball competition on the table I got last year for Christmas… which inconveniently arrived with a crack that is now fixed.

It was the year of vanity mirrors, Ulta makeup, Birkenstocks, Nike socks, and golf gear…. and not a classic white Christmas (it was actually pretty warm), but it was full of good quality time, laughter, rest, and the familiar comfort of being together. And really, that’s the part that matters most. Because even though Mariah Carey has been annoyingly stuck in my head, on repeat for months, she might actually be right: all I want for Christmas is you.

This fall’s vibes felt like adventures with Noah, golf outings with Matt, photo shoots of Artemis, magic shows with the Docan-Morgans, an upgraded Toyota (Grand) Highlander, P90X workouts, sledding, Northern Lights, Rotary Lights, and more. No big milestones (except for my growing biceps); just a highlight reel of all the moments that make this part of year autumn-atically a good time.

Bruce Mound. Snow. Boards. Skis. And my cousin Cortney (pro level snowboarder in my book).

She invited me and Genesee for a quick adventure close to home, and somehow made a lesser-known hill feel legendary. She ripped down those slopes while making it look unfairly easy. I learned things. Genesee got braver. Dad was a good chaperone. And we all agreed: having cool cousins is basically a life cheat code.

Best kind of day. 10/10 adventure. Would follow her down a hill again.

Basketball season is officially back, which makes it the most wonderful time of the year. And we didn’t ease into it either. Right out of the gate, we hosted our first tournament of the season and came home with the gold.

Because of our stellar record last year, we started this season ranked 5th in the Great Northwest Basketball League. And as the Basketball Gods would have it, we faced off with #4 West Salem and #3 Hillsboro for our big debut. Yikes! But we came out strong, played our game, and beat both of them, plus Aquinas, just to be extra clear that we’re here to compete.

This year looks a little different, too. We still have the best coach ever (a.k.a. Dad), and the most dedicated hype crew (courtesy of Grandma’s strong cheers), but instead of two evenly split teams, we’re rolling with more of an A and B team setup, which basically means: look out, world! And get ready, paparazzi… because we like to win.

I’ve also been asked to help out with the 7th grade team again, so you’ll probably see me at some of their tournaments this season, too. More basketball is always a “heck yeah” from me.

It’s a long season, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because while it stretches from November-April, it’s also my favorite season. I’m pumped, I’m ready, and I can’t wait to see where this year takes us.

On December 12, Genesee took a mental health day.

A mental health day can be proactive (like pressing pause before stress turns into something bigger, taking a break from routine, or just having a day to do things on your own terms). Or perhaps more commonly, mental health days can be reactive, when you need a day to take care of yourself after things feel hard or overwhelming… maybe it’s anxiety or depression from social pressures, a breakup, loss of furry friend, or an unexplained struggle. Either way, the point is the same: mental health counts just as much as physical health.

Genesee’s day was the proactive kind, which we are allotted two per year. Hers included a stop at Starbucks (obviously), going out to eat, getting her nails done, and visiting puppies at the Humane Society (which should be prescribed by doctors for all health concerns and non-concerns because puppies make everything better).

It’s not about skipping school or being lazy. It’s about listening to our bodies and choosing rest, joy, care, and connection on purpose. Besides, learning to care for your mental health early might be one of the most important lessons of all.

This year, I decided to join band and play the alto saxophone. This decision may or may not have been influenced by the instruments chosen by some of my friends, but since I am already known for tooting, this felt like a more productive way to blow hot air than my previous methods.

On December 8th, I played in my first band concert, where I successfully accomplished the following: sitting still, counting rests, watching the director, and not squeaking too much. In other words, it was a rockstar performance.

Turns out, band is harder than it looks, but also pretty fun! And now that I’ve learned how to play Jingle Bells, I might just take this show on the road. Please form an orderly line once ticket sales begin.

This year’s gun deer season did not disappoint.

It was especially exciting because we had a target buck on our radar: an 8-point whitetail with a broken brow tine that had been showing up in our food plot. After missing my 240-yard shot on Thanksgiving afternoon, I was pretty sure I had blown my one big chance. I was bummed.

But on the very last day of the season, he came back! Same spot. Same shot. And this time, I did not miss.

Before the season even started, Dad and I put in some work—fixing the broken blind window and trimming shooting lanes so we could actually see the food plot. Preparation matters. Also, luck helps.

Dad likes to call me the “Trigger Man” because I mostly sit there sleeping or scrolling on my phone until he says, “There’s a deer,” and then suddenly I’m locked in and ready to go. Honestly? Sweet deal.

After the shot, we field dressed the deer, which is how I learned that yes, it is possible to get guts in your mouth, and no, I do not recommend it.

When we weren’t hunting, cabin life was full of delicious food, euchre, checkers, and just enough trash talk to keep things competitive.

All in all, it was an unforgettable season—one target buck, one second chance, and one trigger man who came through when it mattered most.

It’s the thrill of the hunt—minus the blaze orange… the only way we can get Mom and Genesee into the woods. Those girls love a good Christmas tree! Well, Genesee might be in it more for the Perkins hot chocolate, but it’s still a treasured tradition.

Last night, my sister had a sleepover with Boston and Harmony. For reasons still unclear, this meant our house transformed into a non-stop laugh factory, luxury spa, and a dance recording studio.

There was music. There was giggling. There were sudden bursts of screaming. It was…. a vibe, I guess? Apparently, girls do weird things at their sleepovers.

Luckily, I spent most of my time hunting in the woods, which may have saved me. Out there, it was quiet. Peaceful. Predictable. The deer did not scream. The trees did not giggle. And Dad and I didn’t have to play Truth or Dare.

In the end, I survived the sleepover mostly unscathed—thanks to the woods, which remain my safe haven, my fortress of solitude, my personal princess-free kingdom where sanity reigns supreme.