Here were my resolutions for 2011:

Acquire less stuff and more stories.

Nailed it. I hardly bought anything in comparison to years past. Every bauble or extra pair of high heels I admired in a store started to look like nothing more than a few dollars I couldn’t spend on plane tickets to somewhere there was a party. I very much like my priorities.

Work more, get more money, and give more money away.

Check-check-check. I’m not exactly bankrolling fancy dinners for a dozen of my nearest and dearest (yet!), but I made a nice living with my own two hands this year, and it has felt so. Fucking. Good. Bonus: I was able to help out cool organizations that do work I believe in.

Travel more. Hibernate less. Spend lots of Sundays at brunch and late nights in bars.

Yes! I have always struggled with wanting to stay home in my sweats rather than go out. It’s in my introvert nature to be curled up on the couch often, but that is essentially wasting life. Nothing interesting ever happened while sitting on the couch.

This year I did my first major international trip in years and was able to bring my grandma, which will forever be a highlight of my life.

This was also the year was the year I made a concentrated effort to say “yes” to things, even when I was tired or cranky. To eliminate excuses, I bought some comfy dresses that are easy throw on over leggings or tights and curated a few essential cosmetics that make “putting my face on” a less-than-five-minute process. Now the time between “shlumpy” and “dressed for dinner” is about 15 minutes, and I never have to say “no” to a last-minute invite.

There were lots of Sunday brunches, late nights in bars telling hilarious stories and making friends, and lots of travel, too, to excellent places. It was a conscious lifestyle change, and I am so much happier. High five for me.

Wear sparkly tops and inappropriate skirts. Do yoga. Keep living awesomely. Have adventures.

No, yes, no, and heck yes! I never did buy a sparkly top or do one single yoga pose. (Maybe 2012 is my year?) But I have a few borderline inappropriate skirts that come out when I’m feeling daring and flirty, I’ve lived awesomely, and oh my gosh. The adventures. I can’t even. So good.

How was your 2011? Was this year a good one? What are you hoping for in 2012?

Happy New Year, friends! Be safe.

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What I learned about the soulful, emotional part of doing business this year can fill a book, and, in the next five years or so, I hope that it actually will. I learned how to fearlessly say no, to smell when a client isn’t a good fit, to sense my way through a negotiation, stand up for what I really want, ask for what I need plainly, and manage expectations.

I learned to let the heck go. Of clutter, of unnecessary clothes, of outdated attitudes… of real estate.

The realization hit this year that I’m no longer “the girl who likes to bake”. She is a nice thing to be but is no longer ME. Now, though, I get to be the lady that will pick out the awesome beer to bring to your party, and my kitchen gets to stay tidy.

Despite thinking I’d be too shy, I learned how to ladies naked! And not only naked, comfortably so. For photos, I mean. So many gals I’ve photographed in their skimpy underwear (or less!) have said, “I thought I’d feel weird, but you made it fun!”  I plan on doing more of that. (No, gentlemen, I do not need an assistant.) I’m also good at making little kids giggle and grumpy dads smile for the camera. I have the best job.

I learned to focus inward more instead of worrying about making sure other people are ok first. Heather tweeted this just as I was putting the finishing touches on this post, and it fit so well:

Similarly, I learned to gather myself up a little, to take my too-wide circle of confidants and pull it inward to include only the friends that I can really press into when I am in need. (Miss Brit has an amazing post about this that I have carried in my heart for weeks now.) This has made all the difference.

And highlights of the year:

Paris – taking my grandma, watching my cousins light up with their first glimpses of the Eiffel Tower, and seeing Emily standing under it. Bill Cunningham taking my photo (and then my hand, to help me off a boat). Buying and painting my first major piece of grownup furniture. Mighty Camp. Ordering Taco Bell out of the back of a stretch hummer for a dozen giggly women. Marriage equality passing in New York State (and what it did for my business). Watching Rob react to news that I was pregnant. Meeting Jen and Micah’s new baby boy. Shooting a celebrity wedding, which I absolutely can’t tell you about, a fact that is killing me, darlings. You don’t even know. That thing that happened. Launching AmberMarlow.com

Life was crazy last week.

Like, batshit level. And I kept sitting down to blog about it, but by the time got settled to write it all out – a process that has been reliably cathartic these past seven and a half years of blogging – all I wanted to do was drool into my keyboard and watch ridiculous YouTube videos instead. It started to feel like tendrils of worry were wrapping themselves around my lungs, keeping me from breathing properly, and I had to forcibly stop myself mid-flurry of anxiety, because, hey, I’m alive. Rob is alive. The dogs are ok. And Bob Hope said every day above ground is a good one.

Our car got broken into a few weeks ago. At 11:30 pm, Rob was coming home from an emergency dog food-and-milk run and spotted someone half-in our car through the smashed driver’s side window. Rob shouted, dropping the milk and the dog food and grabbed the guy by the shirt.

Wait. Can we just pause and agree this was enormously stupid? We’re all nodding, yes? Ok.

The guy did not shank him, or shoot him, or punch him once, in such a way that would have resulted in what I hear is called a “one punch homicide”, all of which could have TOTALLY HAPPENED, ROB. He squirmed away from Rob’s grasp, dropping the cheap and nearly-worthless cell phone chargers we had left in the center console. He also left his gigantic screw driver on the seat, which the police offered to take “into evidence”, but we shrugged it off. There was no way this guy was getting caught, and we could tell the officers didn’t want to bother.

Four days later, he came back.

We’re not sure, of course, if it’s the same dude, but he smashed a DIFFERENT window, and took the screw driver back. He also took the airbag. Yes, right out of the steering wheel, leaving a gaping hole and two severed yellow wires sticking out like sad, gangly, pathetic arms. Did you know air bags are valuable? I didn’t, until we found out how much it is to replace.

“Weren’t you just here?” the guy at the glass place asked.

“Son of a bitch came back!” I said.

“Son of a bitch, man.”

Silver lining: I found New York City’s cutest, sweetest glass guy.

After the glass was fixed, we had to get the airbag replaced somewhere else, and it’s a whole murk of insurance stuff that I just. Hate. Dealing with.

On top of that, we are in the final, massively-delayed-and-still-going-right-now process of selling a house. It’s been a flurry of signing papers and correcting documents and sending things off and having our dumb questions answered by the world’s kindest lawyer, and waiting for the buyers loan to come through and finger crossing that we aren’t going to loose them and… gah!

And, on top of THAT, I decided to rent a studio for my business. I need SPACE! to WORK! and this apartment is TINY! I was going to delay this process until everything else was done, but an opportunity opened up, and I had to seize it, which meant another round of paperwork and signing things.

It all felt scary, but fortune favors the bold, right?

Right.

So that’s been this week, and we kept pressing through figuring we’d relax on vacation. We did, too, but now we’re back, and since nothing has magically resolved itself while we were napping in the sun, we shall slog through.

How many times do you have to do something before it becomes tradition? I think three. This is our fourth year in Puerto Rico for Christmas – a happy tradition for sure. I am probably drinking Puerto Rican horchata right now.

I hope your Christmas was merry and awesome. I’ll be back later in the week.

Merry Christmas, friends!

(can this guy play the shit out of a piano or what?!)

Have you seen Shit Girls Say? It was a Twitter feed first, and now it’s a webseries. Totally brilliant and “oh my god. so true!”

(I’m currently in bed with the stomach flu, so you may direct your love notes, sympathy and other funny things my way this week.)

When Gavin was sitting in my living room last weekend I invited him to pick this week’s Monday Music. I asked why this song, and he said:

“There’s something about M83s music; it’s just dark enough to make it disturbing and beautiful. And gives me a boner.”

I glanced up from my laptop.

“You know I was just typing that all down.” I said. “Do you want to rephrase that? Like, are you sure you want the boner bit still in there?”

He shrugged. “Leave it.”

So I have.

Did you like my gift guides this year? I debated doing one, but was so inspired by everyone else’s that I had to put one together!

Apropos of nothing, I found this hilarious photo of my father in 1980 on Facebook. It is clear my goofy smile is inherited.

Happy weekend!

A well-designed pen, for jotting down notes for his next novel – or his grocery list. $18

The Areopress coffee maker, because she is a connoisseur of the brew. $26

A SodaStream starter kit, because he’s always in the kitchen making dinner from scratch, so why not the drinks, too? (P.S. I have it on good authority that, despite it saying ALL OVER to only carbonate water, it can carbonate gin.) $100

A promise to get that one print laying around her living room framed, finally. Because she’s not going to do it any time soon, and it’s starting to make you crazy every time you go over.

A giant calendar, smartly broken down into weeks instead of months, for keeping track of his looming book deadline. All the better to help him become the world-famous author that you are “totally friends with, no big deal”. $24

A massage, tip included, because she has a new baby, and really loves “the hot rock thing” that they do.

A sassy umbrella, because her reaction when people are awful to you is always an upbeat “Whatever! Fuck bitches!” and that makes you feel better every time. $45

Espresso-infused salt, because when no one else is looking, you will both sprinkle it onto expensive chocolate ice cream and share it. $10

A one-hour photo session with Brooklyn’s most cheerful photographer, because they’re overdue for family photos. $250 (What?! I gotta hustle!)

New Ray-Ban Wayfarers in classic black, since she loves the originals but they’re a little too big for her face. $119

A Kindle e-reader $109, loaded with the Kindle Single “Up the Down Volcano”, $2, because she’s a big fan of Sloane Crosley and they would, like, totally be friends if they ever met.

A Dodo case for her iPad with a pretty red lining, because she likes to watch movies on it while flopped on her stomach in bed. $60

Purple Chucks in “dude size seven”, preferably with a love note scrawled on the sole. $50

photo from flickr user kristen mckee

A new MacBook air, since every time she uses her old MacBook, the plug overheats and burns her knee, and that’s probably dangerous, so really, this is a gift based on SAFETY. And also, she’s been daydreaming about a laptop with all-flash storage since 2002. $1000

For her stocking:

Fuji Instax film, because she loves documenting her parties with credit-card sized photos of her friends having a good time. $16 per twin pack

A bottle of Crème Brûlée Imperial Milk Stout from the Southern Tier Brewing Company, because it’s her favorite desserty, guilty pleasure beer. $9

Tattlys with good messages, because she has a year-old business and could use the occasional reminders to both hustle and focus on the happy. $5 each for a set of two

Earbuds, because she lost hers AGAIN. This time it was the laundry that ate them. She always forgets to take them out of her pockets. about $10

Simple silver earrings, since she’s not REALLY an earring kind of girl, but would like something simple to have in her ears anyway. Plus, she really digs supporting small artists. $40

A beautiful enamel locket, which is a tiny bit “little girl”, but still very sweet and pretty. It’s fine, though; even though she walks around with business cards and tells everyone she’s an adult, you know better. You know. $98