I don’t know about you, but I had a helluva year. Happiness is remembering the good stuff. I moved to a place where I could drink the water right out of the tap, I have lunch with a good friend frequently, my writing partner did not ditch me when I started shrieking a couple of weeks ago, and my seventeen-year-old dog is still tottering around. She looks like hell, but so do I, I’m just happy we’re both still tottering. Also I’m proud I wrote three good books with a good guy, and I’m delighted I like talking to my now-grown daughter who worked her ass off all summer to save mine, and even more delighted that she appears to like talking to me. So I’m happy because of all the good in my life. The bad memories can go rot behind the dumpsters in my spleen, I have no time for that. (In case you wondered, the spleen recognizes and removes old, malformed, or damaged
red blood cells memories. Go spleen, that’s what I say.)
So what made you happy this year?