Dear 2000, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9:
All of you, you dirty, rotten, no good, low down, two-timing, yellow-bellied, double crossing, back stabbing, snakes in the grass.
I didn’t think 2009 could be worse than 2008 but do you know what? It was! It just goes to show you that it’s never safe to set your expectations. I don’t use this forum to vent my troubles. I choose to leave out the dreary stuff. Plus, I was raised to pretend that everything is okay, even when it’s not. Don’t talk about it and perhaps it’ll just go away.
[Ms. Daisyfae, do you think that’s an Ohio/Midwest thing? I’ve always considered that mine was a problem of geography.]
But take my word for it, 2009 was no picnic for me or the people around me.
Ten years ago, Mrs. Wife and I welcomed the new decade wile dancing at Bruce Springsteen’s New Years Eve party. It’s one of the top five nights of my life. Tonight we’re in the family room wrapped in the red blanket and watching Ed Harris tear his guts out as Jackson Pollock.
Okay. As Mr. Bukowski put it, scramble two.
Happy New Year to my readers. Your attention is a gift to me.