Happy 2009!

Doesn't it seem like yesterday that everyone was bracing for the Y2K "disaster" that never came?

And here we are -- another New Year in its infancy. I'm not one for resolutions, but you're reading one of them. I resolve to get out my feelings more this year. They're disjointed, with no connection whatsoever, but here they are.

By this time next year I'll be the mother of an official driver-license-holding teenager, on her way to spreading her wings for independence. I've devoted so much of my being to this child that I'm not sure I'm ready for the empty nest.

She's beautiful, brilliant and sensitive -- exactly what this world needs for its future. Can I let her go? I don't know. She needs to be let go, and I hope and pray I'm not so selfish I can't let that happen. I love her fiercely. She's my life's joy.

I'm recovering from some funky stomach malady, so the first nibble of the day wasn't black-eyed peas and greens. I hope the New Year's gods can forgive this indiscretion and bless me with luck. It would be nice to win the lottery, but you have to play to win. If I can't swoop up on Powerball winnings, I hope I can at least keep my head above water this year.

My little dog isn't getting any younger. He's had eye and back problems this year. I wish him an easy, healthy year as we grow older together.

It's my fervent prayer that the economy pull out of this dismal slump. Uppermost in my mind, of course, is the fate of newspapers. So many good people have devoted their lives to the truth with very few monetary rewards. Please, for their sake -- for my sake, even -- don't let newspapers die. We're not perfect, but we're out there trying our damnedest to give the public an unbiased look at the events coloring their world. The same cannot be said of so many bloggers and citizen journalists, many of whom color themselves as objective but reveal their bent. Kind of like Faux News with a keyboard.

(And yes, I do realize I'm using a blog as my podium. I, however, make no claim to be a journalist here. This is where I blow off steam -- it's subjective, and I have no plans to change that.)

I have high hopes for our new POTUS. Barack Obama is no messiah, but he gives me optimism. New ideas are needed. The status quo is not working. I now count down the days to the end of the error -- a man neither elected by the people nor for the people.

Reading about the possibility of Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner having a New Year's baby makes me smile. It's irrelevant to my daily life, but I think they're absolutely darling. So many times I've latched my hopes onto a Hollywood couple -- Brad and Jennifer, Reese and Ryan -- only to see it end in divorce. (I still haven't forgiven Brad for cheating with Angelina Whorlie.) I have faith in the Afflecks. They seem ... almost normal.

Why was Friends the last great sitcom? I love The Office, but there is still a void left by the six people who gathered in my living room every Thursday to make me laugh .. and cry. Though I've always loved Friends, I still mourn for the pre-Monica Chandler and the Joey who was dumb and lovable, not brain dead.

Of course, Jim Halpert does help ease the pain somewhat ... (Is he gorgeous or what?!?)

And speaking of guys who make you drool, I'd gladly be Rob Pattinson's cougar. Long or short hair, bald ... I don't care. Just in case anyone out there knows him and wants to pass the word ...

Happy New Year, everyone! Both of you.

I'm in love!

With my new grill.

I spent a good part of my holiday putting it together. And it works! Without explosions! Yay me!

So, naturally, we used it to prepare dinner on last night. It was just hot dogs (The Girl's choice), but they were spectacular!

Afterward, we lounged outside with King o' the Pekes. He developed an affinity for ice; it was hilarious giving it to him, then watching him treat it like -- well, a doggie treat.

We bought a few fireworks. (Unfortunately, they were out of my favorites -- sparklers.) We had a grand display in our little corner of the world -- the neighbors did their fireworks at the same time. One of them spared no expense, so we got to see some of the huge splashes of light from our front lawn.

It was one of the best Fourths I remember in a long time. Good food, good company, and the weather couldn't have been more cooperative. I hope your holiday was just as great.

On a side note: The Girl has a boyfriend. Hold me.

The Peke and Me

Allow me to introduce The Man of the House.

I'll marry the first man who looks at me the way this little guy does. You can almost literally see hearts in his eyes.

The little guy is usually where I am in the house. If I'm doing dishes, he's napping underneath the table.

If I'm tidying the living room, he's either in his crate or lounging on the sofa or love seat.

If I'm taking a bath, he's stretched out on a towel in "his shelf" of the towel pantry or, as you can see above, either on or in the bathroom hamper.

Accessibility made it easy to find him the other day, when I finished "Marley and Me." John Grogan's tale of "the worst dog in the world" will make you laugh, appreciate your good dog, and sob uncontrollably.

I really feel that I got to know Marley in the 300-plus pages in which Grogan tells about the start of a family with an anvil-headed yellow pooch in their midst. And, days later, I find myself mourning the loss of the Grogans' family beloved Lab.

It's a must-read, especially if you're a dog lover. Just be sure your pup's nearby for a hug as you read the last pages. You're going to need it.

MarleyAndMe.com