Nosy question here! How did you head into 2025?
I ushered it in with TWO!
(No, not the two sweet pups in the pic. Efren George and Charlie belong to my friend Deb and her family. They did smother me with January kisses...back in 2023.)
This year, TWO is actually my word of the year (WOTY). I chose it as a reminder to simplify things as I work toward a better life balance in 2025.
I got the idea for TWO from Jenna Rizzo’s 2-2-2 fitness plan that went viral on TikTok. It involves drinking TWO big bottles of water, eating TWO servings each of fruits and vegetables, and taking TWO walks — everyday.
To me, this is simpler and more achievable than the old bullet journal concept of checking off boxes to ensure I get in 8 glasses of water, 5 fruits/vegetables, 10,000 steps, yada. While that approach motivates many, it exhausted me.
This year, I aim to focus on TWO…across the board. For example, instead of fretting that I’m behind on keeping up with social media (think TikTok, Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, Threads, and more), I’ll whittle my myriad choices down to TWO. If I can keep halfway up to speed with TWO, I’ll consider that a success.
I already had TWO on my brain …and then my friend Kristin went and shared a mantra that practically screamed for me to start practicing it in 2025. It was about applying boundaries to empathy in order to prevent burnout. It goes like this: “Be kind and take no sh*t.”
So, I got to thinking. Would it be so bad if I adopted a mantra, too? I mean, think about it. ONE mantra + ONE word of the year = TWO.
Yup, the opportunity is really too good to let pass.
That said, I’ll be ushering in 2025 with TWO. The word. And the mantra.
How 'bout you, my friend? What's your word of the year or mantra for 2025?
Cheers ~ Jan
P.S. My publicist (who is also my favorite husband) chose READ for his 2025 WOTY! He already reads voraciously, but he’d really like to get back to the JOY of reading BOOKS for PLEASURE. If you, too, think this sounds like a great plan for the new year, visit the site below for a chance to win eight FREE books, including my own Secrets of the Blue Moon:
Happy new year, y'all. And happy reading!
Recently, my favorite husband and I took our first European river cruise along the Danube. Rice—a travel lover to the bone—posted pics on social media almost every day of our journey. I mostly held off on posting, wanting a bit more time to process everything first.
Because it was a lot.
(And heads up, this post is a lot. Feel free to skim or just enjoy the pics.)
Truth is, I’m a homebody. Travel is hard for me. But I firmly believe the sentiment in this quote attributed to Paula Bendfeldt: “Travel opens your heart, broadens your mind, and fills your life with stories to tell.” So I did open my heart to enjoy a wonderful trip. Yes, I’d do it again, grateful to have such a privilege. And, hellz, yes, I do now have stories to tell.
Still, it was a lot, just as I knew it would be.
Here’s a glimpse at some of the lovely places and times my partner in crime and I experienced:
Budapest (Hungary). The trip started out a bit rocky on a Saturday when our flight from Atlanta to Newark got delayed two hours. Once in Newark, my spry septuagenarian husband ran like a crazy man through the airport to hold our connecting flight to Frankfurt at the gate and send a wheelchair porter back for me because, apparently, I was moving too slowly. Impressed and mortified, I can admit now that the rest of our travels went smoothly. We boarded our ship, the Magni, in Budapest late Sunday afternoon.
Monday morning, we rose early for our Best of Budapest tour. To our surprise, we were the only two booked on this day-long tour. Our guide, Rita, explained the two different cities, Buda and Pest, as our driver, Steven, passed landmarks including the Royal Palace, the Chain Bridge, and the Buda Castle (aka Matthias Church). People ice skating at an outdoor park just beyond the Square added an extra hint of magic.
Our first stop was at the Zwack factory and museum that produces Unicum, a digestive that tastes a bit like Jägermeister. It’s the national drink of Hungary, and while it was barely late morning, a tasting got underway. You know how they say “When in Hungary…?” (Or something like that.) The rustic distillery served as an air raid shelter during World War II, and I almost fell down the stairs getting to the cellars. Ah, well. As the Hungarians say, “Egészség!”—a shortened version of toasting to one another’s health.
From there, Steven dropped us off at a spot in the heart of Pest, where we experienced our first Christmas market near St. Stephen’s Basilica. Rice bought an abundance of paprika, then we headed for lunch at a quaint place called Trabant 60, named for what some call the “worst car ever made.” We lunched on soup (beef bouillon and noodles), Chicken Paprikash (Hungary’s specialty), and a sponge cake called Somloi.
Over lunch Rita told us she had spent a year of high school as an exchange student in Osh Kosh, Wisconsin. Small world! Professional—also young, smart, and earnest—she shared a lingering sadness over the infrastructure breakdowns that occurred in her country during its Soviet reign as well as her difficulty understanding how divisive U.S politics have become.
After lunch we visited the family-owned Szamos Chocolate Museum, where we sampled cocoa beans and marzipan, then watched a chocolate-making demonstration before decorating our own candies. From there, Steven drove us to Buda to see the beautiful Matthias Church, originally built in 1015 but destroyed and rebuilt in the 13th century as a work of classical Gothic architecture. Its intricate interior was breathtaking, as was its external view, which overlooked Pest.
Back on the ship, we dined on spicy fish soup and Chateaubriand, and our favorite waiter opened the doors of the Aquavit Terrace so we could capture unhindered views of the Parliament Building at night.
Bratislava (the Slovak Republic). We slept late the next morning, waking just as the Magni was passing through Gabcikovo lock. Not gonna lie. I told Rice I didn’t think I could do another walking tour, not after traipsing along all the cobblestones and climbing a million rustic steps the day before. I gave in after he found us a more leisurely paced group for tour. Still, I barely remember passing the Roland Fountain, the first university, or the Grassalkovich Palace, where the current president lives. We strolled by two Christmas markets but didn’t stop.
At the risk of sounding like Goldilocks, this guide’s pace was almost exhaustingly slow, if that makes sense. Or maybe jet lag was still catching up to me? All I know is that, when we got back to our stateroom, I had a meltdown, sick of running from activity to activity like I was a kid at camp. (“I never liked camp, Rice, did you know that?!”) Also, I suddenly realized our stateroom had only one chair with a back, and Rice was sitting in it. (“One freakin’ chair? That’s inconceivable!”) Yes, I was that gal. Lucky for me, Rice is a patient man. And even more lucky for him, I took a nap. I woke up refreshed enough to take part in our evening itinery: a beer-tasting and dinner outing.
Ivan, our guide, led us with several others on foot to our first stop, the Sladovna House of Beer, a medieval pub in the heart of the Old Town. We tasted a couple different lagers, and then Ivan hustled us to our second stop, the “Klastorny Pivovar,” or Abbey Brewery. There we sampled a lager along with an appetizer of perogies (the national dish of Slavakia) served with smoky bacon bits. A dark beer followed, as did a dinner of duck, potato pancakes, red cabbage, chicken schnitzel, French fries, and roast pork over dumplings.
Confession: I wasn’t a huge fan of the food. But the beer was very good, and our tablemates, delightful.
Vienna (Austria). Often called the "City of Music," Vienna charmed us, first with its beautiful architecture, like what we saw when passing St. Stephen's Cathedral and the Schönbrunn Palace. Other enchanting touches awaited, like a Ferris wheel in the park and horse-drawn carriages near the markets. Then there were all the coffee houses sprinkled throughout the city. They’re the perfect spots to escape the hustle—or take a break from yet another walking tour! We definitely enjoyed this part of the Viennese culture, pausing to breathe in the coffee aroma and then give in to a cup, along with a pastry or other sweet temptation.
A highlight of our visit to Vienna was attending the Mozart-Strauss concert. A small group of seven musicians filled the hall with a sound as rich as a full symphonic orchestra, and the costumed singers and dancers made me feel like I had traveled back to a time when Mozart himself performed there. The ride to and from the concert allowed us to enjoy the night lights of Vienna, and when we arrived back at the ship, a 10 o’clock bowl of goulash awaited. (Kind of a new spin on the old college practice of pizza after a concert, no?)
Krems (Austria). During our short stop in Krems, we visited Gottweig Abbey, a Benedictine abbey where monks have been working and worshiping for more than 900 years. Blustery winds shook the pine boughs as we gazed out from the hilltop down onto the splendid Wachau Valley and Danube River below. Inside, we warmed ourselves with a glass of sparkling apricot wine before touring the church. Somehow a pesky thirtysomething woman posing for selfie videos—with a four-foot portable tripod she moved from spot to spot—got on my very last nerve, something I usually allow only Rice to do. But, to end on a high point (no pun intended)...
Climbing the Imperial Staircase to check out Gottweig Abbey's art and the gorgeous ceiling frescoes was all worth it.
The Wachau Valley (Austria). While most of our cruising occurred as we slept, providing us daytime in port, Thanksgiving day brought a change of pace. Despite clouds and wind, Rice and I enjoyed viewing parts of the picturesque Wachau Valley from our stateroom balcony.
Opting to see even more, we braved the longship’s sundeck to soak in more scenery—vineyards, old castles, and villages dotting the landscape. We even fit in a little shuffleboard before deciding to head back inside to warm up with a cocktail and view more sites through the windows of the glass-enclosed lounge.
Magni (the Longship). Our stateroom was housed on the third deck of our longship—and we rarely left that level except for excursions. Why would we need to? A small library, two self-service coffee bars, computers, and the lounge were just down the hall from us. Other than a walking track on the sundeck, the longship had no health club or spa amenities, nor did it have any casinos or big-time entertainment.
Our ship was sleekly styled with lots of beiges and blues and natural wood…not to mention windows, windows, windows! By the end of our cruise, the longship had been transformed with lights and holiday splendor into a winter wonderland.
Viking caters to an adult-only clientele—and by that, I mean seasoned adults—folks like us, who liked to visit the lounge late each afternoon to listen to a pianist and catch an occasional educational slideshow narrated by Boris, our cruise director. (Oh, who am I kidding? We went to the lounge for cocktails, and the other stuff was gravy.)
After cocktails, Rice and I almost always opted to dine in the more intimate Aquavit Terrace just beyond the lounge. It offered the same menu as the main dining room, meaning traditional American choices as well as local specialties. The food was good, the service impeccable, and the other passengers provided pleasant dinner conversation. (As an introvert, it truly surprised me how much I enjoyed that last part.) Occasionally, we’d return to the lounge to enjoy after-dinner performers from the port town, who came onboard to share music and local traditions before the Magni headed back up the river.
Linz (Austria). While in Linz, some of our fellow passengers visited a nearby concentration camp located on a hill above the market town of Mauthausen. The site made a deep impression on them. It reminded me that even places of great beauty, like Linz, often hold dreadful secrets and dark histories we must not forget or pretend never happened.
Rice and I stayed in town. A trolley took us into Linz, where we picked up on foot for a closer look at the Main Square and City Hall. We saw more cathedrals (loved the baroque architecture) and the Mozart Residence. Spotting the Christmas market, we strolled by stalls bathed in lights and brimming with local handicrafts. The festive din and aromas of roasted meats, cinnamon, and ginger kept us warm. (Or was it the gluhwein, a take on hot mulled wine, only more delicious?)
The sun set around 4 p.m. Along a side street, we popped into a tavern to enjoy a beer and drink in some local ambiance. It was a small, cozy place – cash only, no English spoken – and we hung out alongside regulars, stopping in after work for their daily pint. One brought his dog, and we got a sense that the dog was a regular, too.
Walking back toward the harbor, we took a last glance back at the town, bustling with sights and smells and sounds of the season. In front of us across the river, lights from the buildings reflected in blues and then reds and then purples. Along the pier, we peeked into longships, now decked in holiday splendor. I don’t remember our dinner that night, but I’ll always relish our day in Linz, capturing slice-of-life moments, connecting with others—sometimes with words, but often not—all of us just small bits of one big wonderful world.
Passau (Germany). Except when it comes to husbands, I try not to play favorites—not with kids or music or even books. Of course, I can’t always stop myself, and I need to confess, that was the case when I set sights on Passau. It was probably the port I loved most, its old-world streets quaint and walkable, everything about it just right for this Goldilocks (aka me).
Three European rivers converge in the heart of town—the Inn, the Ils, and the Danube. We strolled along the waterside and past the 14th-century Rathaus, or Town Hall, and we stopped inside the beautiful St. Stephen’s Cathedral, which houses a pipe organ with more than 17,000 pipes and inspired Franz Liszt to write his Hungarian Coronation Mass.
During our visit, the sun made a show of itself, and blue skies framed towering trees and pastel-colored buildings. Cobblestone walkways led to surprises around every corner. We came upon not just a Christmas market but a farmers market, too. I’ll remember Passau in November for its beautiful baroque architecture. But I’ll also remember its window boxes with flowers still in bloom and intimate alcoves with outdoor seating decked in fur and greenery.
Prague (the Czech Republic). From Passau, we journeyed to Prague by way of a four-hour bus trip. It sounds grueling, but the driver aptly wound his way through the Bavarian Forest in Germany into the Bohemian Forest in the Czech Republic while our guide entertained us with factoids, historical bits, and even a couple Grimm’s fairytales.
The bus ride ended at a hotel in Prague, but our guide pulled us aside, but our guide pulled us aside, tucked us into a car with a driver, and told us our hotel—“which is even nicer”—was a short drive away in an area the bus couldn’t maneuver. I joked to Rice that our car ride through a twisty underbelly section of the city made me think of the fateful taxi ride in The Bone Collector movie. Happily, our ride ended at the opulent Augustine Hotel, where staff greeted us with glasses of sparkling wine before escorting us to a room that boasted a bathroom larger than our Magni stateroom, complete with heated floors and towel racks.
The next day, I almost didn’t want to leave the room, especially for yet another walking tour. I’m glad we did, though, because the best guide ever led us across a bricked-over moat up a cobblestone walk to the Old Royal Palace, where we observed the changing of the guard. We then walked to the Old Town Square, where we joined 1,000 of our closest friends to witness the medieval astronomical clock performance at the top of the hour.
Yes, Prague was crowded. And touristy. But I’m proud to say I survived—even into the afternoon for our Taste of Prague tour. This began at a modern delicatessen, where we sampled the classic Czech appetizer obložené chlebícky (open-faced sandwiches served on white bread). Our next stop? A local family-owned restaurant to savor a tasting of signature Czech foods: roast duck, Brussels sprouts, and dumplings. Our tour ended with a visit to Prague’s Municipal House café for coffee and Czech pastries. They were to die for, as was the café’s art nouveau interior.
The best part of Prague, for me, was the down time we had to enjoy leisurely hotel breakfasts—made to order—and then wander from Lesser Town across the Charles Bridge, drinking in its ever-changing live entertainment as well as its thirty Baroque statues overlooking the water. We saw so much in Prague—gorgeous Gothic architecture, a weed shop, the mural created to honor John Lennon after he was slain. We dined al fresco in fur-draped chairs, chowed down on chimney cakes, and drank our fair share of beer, both Pilsner and dark.
You might be wondering, is cruising the Danube River at Christmas something you’d enjoy?
Well...travel is expensive, time-consuming, and exhausting. It is also life-changing. Throughout our journey, we shared amazing experiences and met some incredible people from all over the world.
My advice? If you decide not to do a trip like this, don’t beat yourself up. But if you DO decide to go—whether with friends, by yourself, or with a loved one—do it with gusto.
If it weren’t for Rice, I might never leave the house. Lucky for me, he makes travel doable. He makes it (mostly!) fun. When I travel with him, I hear the words of writer John Green repeatedly in my head:
“Here's to all the places we went. And here's to all the places we'll go. And here's to me, whispering again and again and again and again: I love you.”
Updated: Nov 9, 2024
Do you know the real reason election workers give out those “I Voted” stickers? It’s not just to light up social media feed with selfies from everyone wanting to sport a sticker to show that they voted. In Georgia, only after a voter has turned in their paper ballot, and their card, and their stylus all together do they earn that ubiquitous sticker. It’s less about giving out the stickers than ensuring that the cards get returned.
I learned that from my husband, a civics and social studies geek. Much of our calendar this past month has evolved around his twelve-hour shifts as an early election poll worker. I’ve heard more than I care to about precinct set-up and take-down and how all the separate stations work. The man loves the democratic process. And what can I say? He also enjoys sharing stories.
Like this one. Early one morning, a woman came in to vote and found a marked paper ballot left on the printer tray in her station. “How could this happen?” she asked, dismayed when she learned the ballot had to be voided. Rice suggested it must have occurred when the precinct got extra busy. People forget to turn in their stylus or card, and sometimes even their ballet. Staff can usually stay on top of that…except during heavy traffic times…or if they’re helping disabled or elderly voters.
Speaking of that demographic…did you know that voters seventy-five or older can ask to be moved to the front of the line? Same for disabled voters. Some appreciate the special consideration, like the 103-year-old gentleman who came in with his son, who helped him to vote. Others are fine without it, like the young man with cerebral palsy who declined Rice's assistance during or after voting. “No, thanks,” he said. “I’m just waiting for my Uber.” Apparently, he’d ordered a ride to get in to vote, and that was his plan for getting home.
To Rice, these stories reflect how seriously people took this election. To me, they reflect how much he appreciates the process but also how much he cares about people and making election time fair and comfortable for all. For instance, he told me he excused himself from checking in voters when a woman showed up in his line wearing a burka or niqab. “Why?” I asked him. “Because,” he said, “she had to remove her veil so we could match her ID to her face, and I believed she’d prefer to do that in the presence of other women and not me.”
Oh, yeah, that's Rice. He enjoyed doing his civic duty, even attending required trainings prior to showing up at the polls. Early voter turnout was great. For the most part, people were patient and pleasant. Only one person threatened to lodge a complaint of voter suppression. According to Rice, “It was chilly. He grew angry when I asked folks in line outside the building to move back into the shade to make room for patrons wanting to access the library.”
Personally, I might have snapped at that man had I signed up to work the polls myself. Definitely, I would have gone crazy, having to repeat the same directions repeatedly.
Of course, it’s over now. As the winners celebrate, the losers lick their wounds. Personally, I feel a bittersweet twinge of pride, watching American democracy in action once more. One side lost an election and vows to honor the succession of power. I needed to see that again. I needed to witness respect for this system that allows us to fight for the fundamental rights and freedoms we hold dear.
As we march on, I'd like to say a heartfelt thank you to all who voted. To those who worked to make the process go smoothly, double thanks... and two more fond memories from this year’s Georgia election.
Rice’s favorite:
A pregnant woman came in to vote. She was in active labor, but she insisted, “I have to vote!” We moved her through the line as fast as we could. She was having killer contractions, all hunched over and groaning with pain. But she voted. And I trust she made it to where she planned to deliver. I mean, I never heard any off-the-wall delivery stories on the news that night.
My favorite:
Rice left the library after a twelve-hour shift and stopped to pick up a few things at Publix. As he was leaving for home, he backed his truck into a woman’s SUV.
Frazzled about what to do, the woman told Rice she’d like to call her husband. He agreed. When the husband showed up, he said he really couldn’t see any damage, but he collected Rice’s insurance and contact information and said he’d like to re-check the car in the light of his garage back at home.
All the while, the woman kept staring at Rice. “I swear I know you,” she said.
Suddenly, he realized, she did. Sort of.
“Well,” he said, “I’m the guy who made your evening by backing into you.” Then he gave her a sheepish grin. “But I’m also the poll worker who wouldn’t let you take a picture of your daughter today as she voted for the first time.”
“Right.” The woman remembered now, too. “Cell phones aren’t allowed in the booth.”
When the Riceman got home and filled me in, all I could think of was, oh yay.
His phone pinged almost immediately, and he mouthed the words, it’s them. Then he silently read his message.
“What?” I said once he stopped reading, hoping the news wouldn’t be bad.
“The wife said not to worry. Everything looks A-okay. Then she thanked me for my service and told me to enjoy a nice evening with my wife.”
And you know what? He did.
