Happy New Year!

Happy New Year, all!  I can say that still, right?  It is only one day late.

Yesterday was calm and peaceful.  The husband has a cold, which has been miserable for him.  I’ve been a dutiful wife– my stance over the last four days has been one of not asking for anything household related to be done at all.  We did spend a brief time discussing the possible building of some small shelves in ‘the library,’ but beyond that the holidays have been pretty restful here, consisting of not much more than some tv watching and toy playing.  Well, okay– I did do a couple of loads of laundry and dishes, and I may have even pulled a weed or two…or half a lawn bag (stupid Spring Vetch thinks it’s actually spring around here— HA, HA, HA– not this week; hello, temperatures in the 20’s), but over all it’s been pretty calm.

Viv spent her morning eating breakfast like the Princess she is.

Where exactly did the last two years go?

We realized the other day that it’d been two years since we bought our house.  In fact, two years ago now we hadn’t even moved in yet.  I don’t think I’d even bought that high chair yet.

Boy, of course, wasn’t having anything to do with this photo nonsense.  Lately, his thing is to see just how silly he can be.

I think it’s in the pre-teen handbook or something.  Can’t wait ’til we get to the “Too Cool for You” chapter.

We kept this holiday lunch pretty simple this year.  A change, I know.  And while not the traditional Southern New Year’s Day dinner, we tried to cover all of the bases.

We have our ham, mac & cheese, black-eyed peas, green beans, and Parker House rolls.  We don’t eat collards or cabbage, so the green beans are our substitute– even B eats a few despite the fact that he completely detests them.

Excuse the pile ‘o  boxes and games in the back corner.  I’m hoping that they’ll magically move themselves from that chair to the hall closet.  The one I’m afraid to open that B has given up on cleaning because he’s done it three times now and I keep junking it up (my words, not his).  Yeah, ’cause that’s totally gonna happen, right?

Viv ate her first full meal here at home at the table with us today.  She even used a real fork!

Yes, that is a shoe in the chair behind her and to the right.  I told you it’s been relaxed around here.  Tomorrow they all go back to work and school, so things will be back to normal again.  Promise.

I did begin the New Year with a bang– or crash, as the case may be.  Just before midnight, I was explaining to Boy that he needed to be careful and we couldn’t clink glasses because my champagne flute was much thinner than the clear glass mug he had and I really didn’t want my glass to break because I couldn’t replace it.  We had sparkling white grape juice– his dad and I saved the Prosecco for ourselves at lunch the next day (FYI– way too salty).  It was the first New Year that Boy hasn’t had to be woken up– no bedtime on New Year’s eve, but two on New Year’s day.

So, anyway, there was pretend clinking and then toasting and then bed.

Next morning:  I’m cleaning the kitchen, putting things up, and the sun finally makes an appearance.  I see my herb garden in the window and think that I’ll clean it out some, so I reach up and begin to pull down the planter.

The mint, however, has wrapped itself around the pot of rosemary, causing the rosemary to fall as I pull the planter down.  I caught the rosemary with my shoulder and pushed it back up, but not before it caught the top edge of the champagne flute that I’d been so worried about breaking the night before.  I also broke another glass that was holding basil cutting that I was rooting.

Yay, me!

So, of course, what do I do?  I mean, what do I do after I go upstairs and cry because I broke a glass that I can’t replace– a glass that has toasted more than a decade of New Years?  Yes, I cried because I broke a glass.

I get over it, carefully move it, and take some pictures.  And I didn’t cut myself.  Of course, I shouldn’t even type that because I’ll probably go into the kitchen now and step on the one piece of glass I somehow missed despite sweeping and swiffer wet-jetting (wow, that sounds weird).

I like how it turned out.

So that’s my story.

Now it’s off to get some firewood, ’cause it’s 43 out with a windchill of 39 and ’round here, that’s cold.

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