Happy New Year!

I hope everybody had a good one, and a happy holiday season generally. My wife and I leaned into going and doing various festive, holiday-themed things, and it worked out pretty well for us! We should definitely do it again next year.

Regular-style posting resumes tomorrow. I need to get to work on the next novel, among other things.

SO, HOW WAS EVERYBODY’S NEW YEAR’S EVE?

NOT TOO MUCH OVER-INDULGENCE IN THE FRUITS OF THE VINE, WAS THERE? THAT’S GOOD; NONE OF US ARE AS YOUNG AS WE USED TO BE. HEY, WHO WANTS TO SEE SOME LIME GREEN AND NEON PURPLE FLASHING GIFS? — oh, sorry, I had the Caps Lock key on. My bad.

Welcome to the 20s, folks! Let’s see how the latest iteration goes. We’ve managed to start ours without inexplicably banning booze, so we’ve got that going on for us.

Happy New Year!

2019.  The year of the Running of the Blade, for those following along at home.  No flying cars, but then we probably don’t want those anyway.  Besides, — look, I don’t need to do the entire spiel about how badly eco-dystopian fiction ages, right?  Because we all already know that we’re living in the same years as Blade Runner and Soylent Green, and that’s just flat-out hilarious.

So.  Happy New Year!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

OH, I’M SORRY: AM I TALKING TOO LOUD? GIVE ME A BREAK: IT’S ALMOST 11 AM, YOU ALL SHOULD BE SHOWERED AND FED AND READY TO HAVE A NICE, QUIET AFTERNOON TAKING DOWN THE LAST OF THE CHRISTMAS STUFF.

Yes, so I had one (1) beer last night and watched Superman: Doomsday on this Netflix On Demand service that I’m trying out, in lieu of going out and drinking tequila until oblivion at somebody else’s place, then sleeping on the floor.  That’s what happens when you have two kids and a forty-year-old metabolism: you learn to pace yourself.

BUT IT WAS A NICE MORNING: WE HAD PANCAKES… OOPS, I’M TALKING TOO LOUDLY AGAIN.  SORRY.

I need hardly recommend that people drink responsibly tonight…

…actually I probably do, at that.  Drink responsibly tonight.  Don’t drive if you’ve been drinking.  I myself am having a glass of Chocovine  (essentially, it’s Bailey’s, only as not as alcoholic) at home and being quietly thankful that it would take real effort for a drunk driver to send his car through my kitchen.  Depending on the sleeping baby’s sleeping habits, I might even put in a movie.

Here’s to a considerably less drama-filled new year and decade.  Won’t happen, but it never hurts to hope.