Let’s just get this out of the way first: the Epstein stuff is absolutely unhinged. Every new detail feels like confirmation of what we already knew but hoped wasn’t that bad—power protecting power, money insulating monsters, and accountability conveniently evaporating. It’s exhausting in a soul-deep way. I’ve been reading, doom-spiraling, rereading, and finally hit the point where my brain tapped the sign: enough. For my sanity, I’m stepping back from the news for a bit. The world will keep spinning. I need to keep functioning.

Now—on to the parts of life that actually refilled my cup.

The boys had an amazing Christmas. Like, pure joy, squeals, scattered toys everywhere, the good stuff. Hot Wheels tracks everywhere. Dinosaurs stomping across the floor. Blocks stacked and immediately demolished. Blue’s Clues things for Alien and Bay Bay—right on the nose for what they’re obsessed with right now. Raspberry got a construction set and a helicopter, which he loved, even if Blaze and the Monster Machines still reigns supreme in his little universe. Watching them play, fully absorbed, no clue what’s happening in the world beyond snacks and toys—that’s medicine.

Matt’s dad and stepmom brought two gifts for each kid, which was genuinely kind and thoughtful. The kids felt seen, and that matters more than the size or number of boxes. It felt… warm. Normal. Grounding.

On the work front: Matt’s job tried to make everyone work on Christmas Day. Tried. The collective pushback was so strong it didn’t happen, which restored a microscopic sliver of my faith in humanity and labor solidarity. He’s still working six days a week, which is brutal, but that small win mattered.

We’ve also been in full cat mode—as usual.

We built two outdoor cat houses before it gets colder, hoping they’ll help the community cats stick around safely. There’s a scraggly orange guy who’s been hanging around—skinny, nervous, and skittish as hell. He won’t let us near him, but we’re hoping he’ll at least use the houses when it gets cold. Sometimes love looks like providing shelter and not demanding trust.

Dust Bunny has been showing signs that she might be a wobbly kitty, so a vet visit is coming up for her. Excavator has had diarrhea for nearly a week, and the usual meds aren’t touching it, so he’s also headed to the vet. Add to that: we have a new foster, Artemis. We tried to get her ages ago back at the trailer park when we rescued Excavator and the others, but she was too feral and way too smart for the traps. Somehow, she’s here now. She has a vet visit coming up too. Monday is going to be full of phone calls and scheduling and probably emotional exhaustion—but it’s necessary.

Mentally? I’m not great. But I am getting better, day by day. There’s a lot happening in the world, and pretending it’s not heavy would be a lie. Stepping back from the constant stream of horror feels like an act of self-preservation, not ignorance. I can’t pour from an empty cup, and right now my cup needs some quiet.

Despite all of that—despite the chaos, the vet bills, the exhaustion, the state of the world—things are good. Really good, in the ways that matter. The kids are happy. The house is loud. The cats are loved. We’re doing our best.

I hope everyone had an amazing Christmas, whatever that looked like for you. Let’s welcome the new year gently. Let’s leave as much strife and heartache in 2025 as we possibly can—and carry forward what’s worth keeping: love, care, community, and the stubborn refusal to give up on each other.

Here’s to softer days ahead.