Christmas Morning

Enough with being politically correct, Merry Christmas, one and all.
I was up early for no particular reason and read some random blogs, one about a Brit girl in Los Angeles who calls herself a shitkicker. She needs to pop on over to Texas to get a clearer understanding of that term.
Dinner was great last night, except for the bad filets mignon. One bite and I knew it was spoiled, so I scooped up hers and mine, bites and all, and baggied them up to return to the store tomorrow. Cest la boeuf.
All the candy and cookies and eggnog yesterday made me so full I could barely stay awake through Ab Fab last night. Thankfully my dinner companion was just as beat and went home early. We didn't even crack open the wine she brought.
Today is freeform family Christmas- no specified time, no organized dinner, nobody is quite sure who is coming and nobody seems to be bothered by it. Suits me fine.

I just want this year to be over and start next year with a tabula rasa.

2001 was an awful year for me and for most of us.
I had endometrial cancer, major surgery, then a long, slow recovery. Bush became president. The Lakers won the NBA title. My sister had a ticket to Paris scheduled to depart September 12. She had planned to have her birthday lunch at the Ritz.
In 2001, I loved the wrong woman far too much for far too long, and then the World Trade Center thing happened. I feel like I lived the year on a rickety carnival ride that would not stop to let me off.
But I am still standing, healthy now, no more nutty girlfriend, a wonderful baby kitty boy, good friends and a loving, albeit eccentric, family.
So it is a merry Christmas, and I wish serenity to everyone who reads this.