Before you pity me too much... we had plans. Really. I am not a big New Year's plan maker, either, so this year was kinda a banner year. I cannot even remember what took place last year, and the year before that is a blur. Most likely asleep by midnight, or in the case of a few years back when Mark rented Tomb Raider (otherwise known as Drool Over Angelina Jolie) I was asleep by 10p as that seemed like an activity better suited to him alone than a couple. This year, we were attending Lori's New Year at the Holiday Inn in lovely Lebanon, Indiana. Oh yes, let the envy begin. Its a Holi-Dome, in fact, so indoor pool, hot tub, and indoor playground. Yes, Lori has kids. Yes, I do too. This is the epitome of New Year's fabulousness for the under 5 crowd, let me tell you. After our hotel romp, Homa and her boyfriend were coming over for dinner and chatting. Laid back, perhaps. But they were plans. But, then.... Will struck. Or more importantly... the flu struck. And it struck his off white bedroom carpet, his crib (yes, he's still in one and I think it is great and he will remain there until he is 40 or moves out...whichever comes first), his sheets, his dust ruffle (what an emasculating name for a manly airplane patterned fabric) and his entire body. It was either the flu or a demonic possession. The jury is still out, I guess. His flu went through the night and into today, and while he has perked up, its not enough to carry on with our fancy schmancy New Year's plans. So, here I sit. Blogging. (Imagine sound of New Year's horn blowy thingy going off now).
I feel like I have to do something New Year's Evie, since I am hardly a participant in this holiday today, so I am going to throw in some resolutions for good measure. That way Dick Clark, the patron saint of December 31st, won't haunt me. Here goes: