Hello! Happy New Year! Is, as Oprah suggested, a new day dawning for you? And wasn’t her speech at the Golden Globes something else? Love for Oprah is nothing new, of course, but seeing her beautiful face, and listening to her stirring, yet comforting, words about truth, justice and respect for women and men (but especially women) moved me to tears. Me, and almost everyone else in that room, and beyond. We are clearly starved for leadership, and intelligent discourse, and just plain old common sense. Everyone is now talking about Oprah for President in 2020. Sadly, I now think that position is probably beneath her.


Like you, I spent the holidays trying not to freeze to death. Our house is old and drafty (or draughty if you’re teddibly inglish,) and, as such, we had a fire going most days. Fortunately, we have a fireplace; otherwise it would have been somewhat alarming. Dog walks required kitting one’s self out like an Arctic explorer, although the dogs didn’t seem to mind. Speaking of which, two days after Christmas, Duey ate a pound of dark chocolate, stolen from very back of the kitchen counter, and had to be hospitalized like a movie starlet after a binge. He’s fine now, as far as we can tell, and of course he learned nothing from the experience, because the day AFTER that, he stole a bag of tortilla chips, but couldn’t open it, so left it on his bed. Duey is like the Seven Deadly Sins rolled into one, with emphasis on Gluttony, Sloth, Greed and Hubris.


Oh hi. I just ate a pound of chocolate and threw up all over the house and the car. Now I’m at the vet, and not the least bit sorry. I’ll do it again, I swear. Happy Holidays!



When I wasn’t cleaning up dog barf, I watched a lot of TV, and saw a lot of movies. I consumed all of The Crown, Black Mirror, Godless, Glow and Mindhunter, and recommend them all. Big screen-wise, I saw Battle of the Sexes, Ladybird, and Call Me By Your Name. In fact, the entire family (including Jamie, Aidan’s girlfriend) went to see Call My By Your Name on Boxing Day. It’s a beautiful film, about a 17-year-old boy (Timothee Chalumet) who falls in love with a handsome graduate student (Armie Hammer) in Tuscany in 1983. The love/sex scenes are quite explicit, which caused everyone in my row to squirm like mad. I highly recommend the movie, but maybe not as a family activity.  Even bowling would be less embarrassing.


And now we’re back, and bouncing into 2018. 2017 wasn’t everyone’s cup of anthrax, but some good things came out of it: the #MeToo movement, the Alabama election, the HyperLoop, Harry&Meghan. I have bright hopes for the year to come. Let’s spend it together, shall we?


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