It's too cute, y'all. Sonya, still battling the cold/flu/funk she has, is asleep on the couch. Roxy has been sleeping beside her. I minute ago, Roxy got up and went to Sonya's uncovered shoulders. She looked hard at the blanket, then at me.

"Dad," she said, "can you lift up these covers so I can get under there with momma?"

I did so, and now Roxy is a warm little lump under the blanket with Sonya.

The blanket in question, by the way, is terribly cool. It's a fleecy, fuzzy thing, covered with the characters from the first Star Wars movie. It's an original, it's mine, it's covered with holes and it is loved by all who touch it. We refer to it affectionately as the woobie (a la Mr. Mom).

And now Sonya is snoring; great, huge, thunderous snoring. Her sinuses are being quite ravaged by this nasty illness. The poor girl needs her sleep. I put the Branagh Hamlet in the VCR earlier and she dropped right off.

So did you make it to the New Year? Congratulations. Here in Memphis there was a big fuss on Beale Street and a cop on every corner, but I think the transition itself was peaceful. I only heard one gunshot, but my friend Ward was over in West Memphis and he said it sounded like a war zone. I love my hometown.

And, not to toot my own horn or anything, but have you seen my hits for this weekend? Thirty-two yesterday, and twenty-seven today. I realize I am a (say it along with me, now) Goddamned Internet Phenomena, but those are really excellent numbers for a holiday and a Saturday, respectively. For me, anyway. I know some people get thousands of hits every day, but I'm more about quality readership, not quantity.

That's a compliment, people.

Apparently my little real-time New Year's celebration was quite the hit. I want to thank all of you. You're beautiful.

All in all, though, I'm not too upset that I couldn't leave the house. Sonya was sick, so we couldn't have done much. And I thoroughly enjoyed having CNN on all day and the world celebrating the New year over and over again in the background.

Except for when we took a break to watch Xanadu, of course.

And did you get your black-eyed peas? Is that just a southern thing? Anyway, you're supposed to eat black-eyed peas on New Year's Day so that you'll be prosperous (or maybe just lucky - I've heard both) in the coming year. We put a bag of peas in the crock last night before bed, along with half an onion and a ham bone. The Wife whipped up some greens and corn bread and fried potatoes (peeled with James' Rotato - an appliance that is nothing short of miraculous, in my opinion) and we had a New Year's Feast.

I wasn't hung over this morning, either, which was nice, 'cause I did have several beers and a few glasses of champagne through the course of the evening last night. Also nice, because I was hung over yesterday morning. Two hangovers in a row is an ugly thing.

I could never be an alcoholic. Two nights of good, steady drinking and I feel lethargic and sore-throated today. If I drank tonight I'd feel like utter shit tomorrow, I'm sure, and I'd probably succumb to Sonya's illness, which I most assuredly do not want.

Good Lord, I have the most distressing gas this evening!

Have you made any resolutions? Not me. My self-imposed dietary restrictions have been shot to hell over the last few weeks, but I'm hopping back on that particular lettuce-based horse starting Monday. And I'm going to start running again, 'cause I'm doing a marathon later this year. That's not a resolution, though. That's just some shit I'm going to do.

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