Domerberry Year Review: 25

A couple of years ago, Queen Adele I of Tottenham released an album called 25, ostensibly chronicling her 25th year of life. Adele and I, despite both being delightful plus-sized ladies with golden voices and dazzling senses of humor, have little in common. At 25, she had a baby; I had one four-inch-wide succulent, which I store in a small pot with googly eyes. She had sold 40 million albums; I had sold a ten-pack of thank you cards via my on-again off-again craft business once or twice.

But I recently finished my 25th year, and just as I reviewed Adele's 25, I figure I had better review my own.

March: I celebrated my birthday last year with a whirlwind trip to Dublin, which sounds hard to top because it is. But I also began my first day as a 25-year-old violently ill from a late-night batch of garlic cheese chips, so, like, it wasn't that auspicious a start to the year.

April: Fresh off the heels of having all of my wisdom teeth removed, I survived an April Fool's Day blizzard - foot of snow and all - all by my lonesome, and I bought my first bodysuit. I may not be wise anymore, but I am fashionable. A fair trade.

May: My sister graduated from college. She had a better GPA than I had in college, but I had a better seat at her graduation, so it evens out. Later that month, I had a Memorial Day reunion with an old friend, which involved good Indian food and even better Primark shopping. May was good.

June: June was even better. I received the coolest pair of jeans I've ever owned, hand-painted by my very talented artist cousin, and began wearing them everywhere so as to ceaselessly fish for compliments. I went to New York and got to watch my parents' choir perform at Carnegie Hall, see the best lady-created show in Broadway history (Waitress, duh), take my first SoulCycle class, and eat at Momofuku Nishi. And at the end of June, as you all know, I discovered my secret passion: ATVing.

Eat my dust, or something

July: In the first 96 hours of July, I watched two friends get married, attended what was easily the best wedding reception in Morris Inn history, went to the Backer, and spent three full days solo-dining and street-art-peeping my way around Quebec City. At the end of July, BFF in tow, I climbed a mountain and paid my first and only visit to the best nightclub on earth, Whiskeys 20. I miss you, Whiskeys 20. I miss you so.

August: I watched my Irish wife marry the love of her life and took my Irish choir director to the Indiana State Fair. I glamped. I piloted an ATV and a stand-up paddleboard, and no one died either time. Successful month.

September: Listen guys, in September last year I went on a solo date to the Lady Gaga Joanne tour and then spent a week in Iceland. I could try and describe those two things, but whatever I'd say would not do them justice, so I'll just leave you with this never-before-seen selfie of me in a Gaga muscle tee. I'm sorry and you're welcome.

Behold, the headshot I will use if I ever need to apply to a lesbian biker gang

October: Moved across the country, by car, by myself. (Everyone who has ever met me should appreciate what a miracle it is that this went semi-successfully.) At the tail end of said move, arrived in South Bend just in time for USC weekend. Backered again. Another excellent month.

November: WENT TO PUERTO RICO! Yes, that's right, it's another shameless plug! You should donate! You should vacation there (and take me with you)! While you're at it, you should read my story!

Oh, and also in November, I won $250 on pull-tab lottery cards on Thanksgiving Eve at a Logansport bar, and I will never forget the look of rage and disbelief on my jock ex-classmates' faces as long as I live.

December: I'm sure other things happened in December, but look, I spent New Years Eve at a ping-pong nightclub, so I'm kind of on a one-track mind when it comes to this month. Here I am in a bathtub full of ping-pong balls. Normal night!

2k18, everyone.

January: It never got warmer than roughly three degrees in January, so, like, let's just pretend this month never happened.

February: A few short weeks ago, I spent a long weekend in Denver and, going against type, didn't hate one second of it. There was wedding dress shopping with a group where no one is engaged. There was fancy Italian food. There was curling. It was heavenly. February also involved several dozen home-baked cookies, three rounds of speech meet judging, two hours of Roxane Gay lecture right here in the town where I live now, and one Galentine's Day party, all of which made it a wonderful lead-in to...

March. Spent a lot of time with a lot of cool people. Booked my first trip to South America. Smiled a lot. Turned 26.

Friends, it's been a good year. Here's to another one.