and they wouldn't be milking either, not at our cottage with holiday remnants needing to be taken down, packed carefully away and stored for another eleven months.
Twenty-ten! Doesn't that sound amazing? And wasn't it yesterday that we were toasting Y2K in a lovely Alsatian white that son Pierre brought back from his bike trip through Europe (including the accidental detour into Holland).
Dear two thousand and nine, I'm sorry but I won't miss you at all. I didn't really need the CE credits in family, love, friends, thriftiness and simplicity. Please, God, let twenty-ten be a good year. A year with jobs for everyone who wants one. A year free from life-changing loss. A year with security and appreciation.
Happy New Year!