Brave New World

A brand-new day, a brand-new year, and what better way to celebrate than with a brand-new diary entry? Last night ended up being a quiet evening spent at home in the loving bosom of three-quarters of my family, considering that Buddy Boy�s party never panned out. I chatted with a couple of friends online until 11:00, then watched the comedy specials on CBC with my menfolk, eating chips and drinking bubbly, then went to bed at 1:30, waking up twice totally parched, either from the plethora of salt in the junk food or the dehydrating action of the vin mousseux (most likely a bit of both). I also had a disturbing dream the first time in which Buddy Boy did not show up at an assigned time and place and only his jacket was found in the woods, which made it a little hard for me to get back to sleep again.

I know that it is a new year because yesterday I received my 2004 taxation package from the federal government and the date stamp on this page reads Saturday, January 1, 2005. Otherwise, it doesn�t feel that much different than yesterday. Upon rising, though, Hubby noted how quiet it is. There is no traffic outside, no trains are thundering by, no airplanes flying overhead. The wind, however, is whistling around the corners of the house, a harbinger of change. The temperature is still above freezing, which was a blessing for celebrants driving last night, but we are in for a plunge back to seasonal norms. Remember those immortal words of Led Zeppelin�s Immigrant Song from way back in my misspent youth?: �We come from the land of the ice and snow, from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.� Well, you�d have to be an Inuit to experience the midnight sun and live in Banff to take advantage of Canada�s single hot spring network, but that song could refer to us. Especially the �ice and snow� part.

My one new year�s resolution is to never eat potato chips again. Wish me luck.

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