I have successfully survived my 32nd Christmas. No need to congratulate me. It went alright. Different this year, that's for sure. I have eaten a steady diet of cured meats, buttery baking, cheese, pickles and chocolate for well over a week. Pants are becoming an obstacle. Time to stop.

New Year's Eve is fast approaching. I've always loved New Year's eve. To me, it's the absolute adult holiday celebration. When I was a child I would imagine myself at a New Year's party, with my hair in a bun, wearing a fancy black dress and drinking sparkly drinks plucked from big round trays held by black-tied waiters. I haven't had my proper adult party yet. I've tried for many years. I've worn fancy black dress or two and I've downed countless fizzy drinks. But, I've never quite realized my childhood fantasy. And you know what? I'm not even a bit discouraged. Maybe it won't happen until I'm a silver-haired senior (might explain the hair in a bun bit). I should go eat. Bye.