Happy New Year Everybody!

I managed to wing it from Portland to St. Louis without any trouble and even some sleep -- thanks to the "economy plus" seating upgrade and my amazing luxury headphones (thx, mom!). I've landed in the Robbins' budding family nest. It's a cozy brick house in a cute neighborhood with a big basement and a tiny garage built for a model-t ford; very nice.

We had a pretty rad New Years Eve. Laura cooked an amazing rib roast, and a family friend of Frank's parents had given them a big grip of fine wine (now residing in a rack in said basement) of which the Two Hands Shiraz was a perfect compliment. Their good friends Matt and Narcissa came over and we had a great meal and some good well-wishes for 2008.

My winning slogan/resolution: 2008 -- Less Work. More Sex. Flossing.

I also managed to get in on some classic New Years Predictions via phone with LGD and The Girth. It's a tradition in which we venture guesses on things ranging from the stock market and congressional makeup to who among our friends will have a bun in the oven by the next trip round the sun. They're fun to look back on.

After dinner we went out to a hip spot with some quality burlesque dancing and an outdoor fire to count down the new year in public. It was good for people watching, and I did at one point have a woman tear open my shirt (cowboy snaps) and give me a little dancefloor humpin', which is always nice. Bodes well for my slogan. Pregnant Laura was our faithful designated driver, and we didn't really stay out too late, though Frank and I did get into some loud story telling and scotch-bottle-finishing back at the ranch.

So now I'm here, new year, mid-west, got a big todo list to clear for work before 11am eastern time tomorrow. But tonight I'll floss. That's a start.

[Photo by Timothy K. Hamilton, some rights reserved]