Can You Believe We Have Made It Through One Twelfth Of 2022??????????????????????????

                                       I always start feeling better the end of January.  We start with a celebration, watching the ball drop, some Veuve Clicquot, and then the seasonal magic stops.  The decorations have to be taken down, and then I have to transition through a period where I keep seeing them mentally.  Some time, at a later point in the month, this stops, and I always know I am on the mend when I can see my home normally.   I have crossed the first hump.

                                        I know I am settled in, trying to live up to my resolutions, as I struggle through the pandemic.  But knowing I--and David--am doing all I can. Same with Baby Gojira and Pippin.

                                        I had Svengoolie, and loads of fun with him, to help ease the transition.  Now, there is February to look forward to, and though short, it is packed with so many events! Just wait and see.

                                          I always heave a sigh of relief when January is over.  But one question remains unanswered.

                                            I was born two months premature.  I arrived in November 1954, when I should have shown up in January of 1955.  Had I kept that date, would I feel differently about the month?

                                               What do you think, girls??????????????????????