You know the first sign of getting old is when you are in bed before 11 pm on New Year's Eve. We had dinner at 7, got home around 9:30, and were in bed by 10:30. So this must be the first year we are truly old, and both of us only 54. I blame it on not having TV coverage of that ball dropping in Times Square: so silly, and yet somehow my only tradition that has (had) remained constant.
My toast: Here's hoping you all remain young for your years, and that your New Year celebrations were equally enriching.
And here's a pic of Sophie gnawing on a deer jawbone just to put you in a festive mood. After only 2 days of temps in the 40s, that snow is mostly melted here. It almost feels like spring...makes me want to go outside and do some yard work!