This is a holiday tradition of sorts. Me writing on New Year's, that is. I looked back on last year's post, and it was depressing, so I'll try not to be depressing this year. A year before that was just stupid. I'm trying to get better. I don't know if anybody notices. The life of a maturing writer - nothing like my life. So, what happened this year, besides Saddam Hussein being executed (didn't see that one coming three or four years ago).
Not as many weddings or new children, I guess. Now we have a set of Wakefields, a couple of Bjerkases (I know not many of you were as close to Justin as me, but I have the wedding invitation on my fridge, so I thought it should be added), a Mrs. Bubek, and a small army of Gabe's offspring. Lynnea has an MA, I have a real job, Duerkop has a new job after his not so perfect election (politics are so strange). My last two college roommate bachelors are set to be married in the following year. We're expecting a little Folkestead here sometime, and I will be an uncle by summertime it seems. Next year looks to be a bigger deal than this one. I mean, who knows how many 18-year-old Australians are in your future? They always make things fun for a very short while.
As I always have trouble doing, I'll try to just say it simply - Happy New Year.