Tomorrow: Michigan State vs. Stanford in the granddaddy of all them bowls, the Rose Parade from Pasadena, and lots of good snacks and candy thanks to Santa's bounty (and Wisconsin Cheese Company).
Headlong we dive into a new one of those things called a "year." Ready or not, a new, clean page in the calendar to make promises to ourselves about change we know simply are too unrealistic to achieve.
I am going to lose weight. I am. Really. I am.
I even have a plan to start dieting after the Super Bowl. By then, all the Christmas goodies should be eaten, and I'll be poised to turn hunk once more. Ironman, move over.
Valentine's Day will pose a threat, but I have resoled not to eat chocolate hearts, nor the marshmallow bunnies that hop around my home in the spring, leaping right out of jelly bean nests in grandchildren's baskets.
Really, I am.
And, I resolve to do one kind thing a day. Maybe more. Particularly for my wife, since I can use new husband points, although she never tells where the redemption catalog is hidden.
But back to New Year's Eve, or tonight.
As I sit at my HP laptop seeking wisdom to shine through my office window in the late hours of this 31st of December, all I can see is darkness. Not a metaphor, it is something that comes each night, and too early in December.
Darkness, but beyond are the neighbs, probably breaking open bubbly or dipping into chocolate fountains. I am soon to join in all that, so fret not for me lost in the bleak black out there.
Even at 129 years old, I still get inspiration about a new year. Of course this will be the year I win the Megamillions. Just you want.
Really, I will.
Most of us like to ponder what we would do with such instant riches. I have no doubt but that I would pay off the Visa card, and go to lunch with what I had left.
But I count my riches in not what I could have, but what I am blessed with right now. No matter the six numbers that would change my life, I have winning numbers: 10 grandchildren; four children and significant other ones, and my vivacious wife of 37 years.
The gods have been good, even if they withhold those lottery numbers from me. I have won much riches already (much is my on purpose grammatical error, editor).
Another year to cover the farm beat in eight western states. What a wonderful job, traveling about in Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, Nevada and the PNW enjoying the clear, crisp industry of agriculture with its ranges of cattle, orchards of fruit, fields of grain and vineyards of fine wine.
I'll have a cup of kindness for 2014 and whatever it brings. I am, after all, Superman.
Aren't you (or Ironwoman)?