Happy New Year.

Period.

No exclamation point at the end of that salutation, I tell ya. Not this year anyway.

I’m tired, and bruised, and my belly jiggles a lot more, and I need a shower. I’m rarely alone these days, and if I do find a moment to myself someone in the house will scream for me to get them a snack.

Snacks!–That has become my middle name. In late April, I recovered from the Coronavirus, came out of a 5 week quarantine, hugged my babies tightly, and then proceeded to dole out snacks for the remainder of the year. That’s what I’ve been up to. But you understand, don’t you? After all, your life looks very similar, doesn’t it?

Let me make you a Martinez and a snack plate, and we’ll commiserate. Continue Reading