Happy New Year...

Well, dear readers, another one for the books. As I approached year-end, I realized I had hardly even touched my little corner of the blogsphere in weeks (spheres have corners? wha?). I vowed, as many people vow to lose weight and stop drinking—“right after this last glass of New Year's Eve champagne”--to get back on the horse and write again. After all, I *need* to write, in a way that usually means if I *don't* write, I will end up eating or drinking too much. (See what I did there?)

And here we are, three days late.

I *do* have an excuse: I ran myself ragged, and fell very sick with a flu that is making its rounds here in Northern California. This one is a charmer, starting with a sore throat that just gets worse and worse. The nose starts dripping, the cough kicks in, then the fever and aches and everything. Thankfully, no vomitoriousness with this bug, but still. I spent three days on my back, which for me is saying something.

But, I am back, and will catch you up on the ragged-making events that preceded me breaking my Write-More-On-My-Blog resolution before I could even start it. Rather than post one enormous Tolstoy epic here, I will give it to you in installments. In the meantime, here is my belated New Year’s toast to you—it’s a traditional toast from Canisbay, a small village near John O’Groats in Scotland:

May the best yer've ever seen be the worst yer'll ever see,
May a moose ne'er leave yer girnal' wi' a tear drop in its e'e,
May yer lum keep blithely reekin' until the day yer dee,
And may yer a' be as happy as I'd like yer a' tae be.

(“May the best you've ever seen be the worst you'll ever see,
May a mouse never leave your grain store with a teardrop in its eye,
May your chimney keep happily smoking until the day you die,
And may you all be as happy as I'd like you all to be.”)

Happy New Year, Dearest Readers!