So How Was It?

Still a couple of days to go, but are you already living in 2014? I'd say I am.

Before we trade in the old year for a newer model, hows about we take a little stock. Let's pry open the dented door of the station wagon that is 2013, and see what kind of memories are wedged behind the seats or stuck to the floor mats.

Let's talk about 2013. How was yours?

Did you cry during the year? Did you laugh until you cried during the year? Did someone's crying make you laugh during the year? Sorry, that's enough. I cried just last week, in fact. It was an ESPN show about an eighth grade kid with Down Syndrome, who worked as the basketball team's manager. He never missed a practice, never missed a game. He cleaned up, kept the balls pumped up, swept the court; he just wanted to be around the game he loves as often as possible.

The coach decides to let him suit up for the team's final home game. That's all I'm going to say. Check it out here if you're in a place where you can whimper like a Harbaugh.

I'm not sure how many times I laughed myself to tears, but I'll go ahead and guess between seven and ten occurrences of this in 2013. Thankfully, no snorts this time around.

During 2013, did you say "I love you" to someone for the first time? I didn't, but at least I've still got 37 hours to find either Jennifer Lawrence or Richard Sherman.

How was your health in 2013? I have to ask you this because I'm old now. Any new issues with the back? The hips? The knees? Did you experience rash or unprecedented hair growth in formerly pristine skin areas?

Yeah, me neither.

Were you a good parent? And by parent, I'm including you moms and dads of feline and canine children, because seriously, owning a dog looks a little harder.

I'd give myself a C+/B- grade in the parenting department. Definitely not a spectacular fathering year, but I did let the kids watch some fantastic football games. Someday, my younger daughter will appreciate this. It's not really necessary to grade myself, since I'm evaluated on a daily basis by some tough teenage professors. Sometimes they'll grade me based on their moods, while in others,  my final grade is contingent upon their moods.

They're loud and hilarious and they rely heavily a term known as "cleanish," and boy do I ever love those fiery souls I live with. 

It was a good year.