New Year

I have woken up earlier than ever today, which just means my readers with insomnia have something to read. My coffee tastes extra good this morning, and that is as it should be. If I have to wake early, then I should be greeted with some fanfare.

Well, the friend I wrote of yesterday did indeed contact me, and there was nothing to worry about. Just a bit of panic to spread over my new year. Apparently I am not as talented at losing friends as I had thought.

And, at midnight tonight, the monotony of a new year begins. All I can think of this time of year is dating all my checks incorrectly for a month or two, before I get used to the date change.

I suppose I am blase about the beginning of a new year because, as I grow older, nothing seems to change. The state of human affairs is hauntingly bad, and our government, like all governments, seems to want to screw us as never before. They keep voting themselves pay raises for doing nothing, while the rest of us circle the drain.

True, right at the moment, as the fiscal cliff looms, the American people seem to be rising up in protest against Congress' inaction. This is a good sign. Complacency has overwhelmed us in the last 40 years; but then there are the moments we would like to forget. The Congress has not extended the Violence Against Women Act, or re-ratified it, which is a horrible mistake on their part. Hasn't the Republican Congress damaged women enough this year? And the douchbag, Eric Cantor wants to take protection from Native American women, leaving it to tribal law to adjudicate. 

If anything friends, the Violence Against Women Act needs to be expanded, and a proposal was made to that effect, and voted down by the party that cannot decide what rape is, or if Roe v. Wade is really a law they should follow.

But enough. On a personal level, this is one of the better years. After the devastating stroke of one of the unicorn meat eating cats, another calico has adopted me. Her photo and name, Georgia, leaped out at me on Petfinder, and so down to the pound I went. The local Angels of Assisi organization pulled her off of death row for me, and she possesses a spirit so closely linked to the departed cat, as to make no difference. Now, I know she is not my Echo, a black calico, who was wild and free, although hand-raised by me from birth.  But somehow her personality lives on in this grey calico, who at 4 years of age, is as mischievous as ever Echo was.

But I suppose what all the excitement is about surrounding the new year. Everyone is making their list of personal favorites for this year, and personal dislikes, and hoping there are more of the first in this new year and less of the second.

So get out there tonight, and shake your booty, and some cheap musical instrument, and let the shredded paper fall on you like rain. Don't drink too much, and don't drive at all if you have been drinking...call a cab. Let's make it until tomorrow.