who woulda thunk

We have this dumb joke that we do when we've had a little too much to drink. It involves writing Facebook posts to our future selves, resulting in something like this:

Dear Future Michaela: 

Apologies. 

Sincerely,
Present Michaela

Thankfully, I didn't quite go there last night. Yes, I drank 04 Dom Pérignon straight out of the bottle on a street somewhere while hipsters in a nearby apartment building launched fireworks off of their balcony. (Confession: I was kind of terrified I would be That Person who succumbed to a death-by-hipster-fireworks-accident.)

And yes, I did drop my phone and suddenly it decided to take photos only in black and white.

But there was no need to apologize to my future self. (When you eat enough pre-party enchiladas and make sure you drink water, you're pretty much good to go.) Instead, I started thinking about Past Michaela, and how that girl from five years ago had no clue what she was getting herself into. (Dear Past Michaela: Bet you never thought you'd be allergic to bread, divorced, living in the Land of Hipster Lumberjacks and training for a full Ironman! Haha! Surprise!)

So on this first day of 2014, I'm saying cheers to the unknown.

Dear Future Michaela: Roll with it, girl.