SOMNOLENCE

A quiet New Year's Day—not that I expected anything else. We went to bed around eight on New Year's Eve and woke up about five-thirty New Year's morning. If anyone set off fireworks or firearms during the night, I did not hear them.

As I had spent most of New Year's Eve getting everything cleaned up for the new year—an old superstition, if you will—most of Thursday morning was spent watching the Rose Bowl Parade with Lloyd. That's the first time I've done that in years. It's the first time he's done that in years. Of course, I had a book in one hand: the usual way that I watch television.

Lloyd has never come to grips with me being able to do other things while I read. Once a long time ago, we were in bed watching tv. I had my head on his shoulder, reading. To tease me, he bent his arm so that it lay across my eyes. I said nothing, as I could see the book perfectly well underneath his arm. When I came to the end of the paragraph, I turned the page. He almost freaked out as he was expecting a quite different reaction.

This New Year's we had roast pork tenderloin, left over from Christmas; black-eyed peas, for good luck; corn bread and spinach for dinner. It was delicious if I do say it myself. I hope you all had a quiet holiday and wish you all good things for the coming year.

Our word of the day for January 2, 2009 is "somnolence" — Pronunciation: \'säm-nə-lən(t)s\
Function: noun
Date: 14th century
: the quality or state of being drowsy : sleepiness.

Our quote for the day is from Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. Walden (1854), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 2, p. 99, Houghton Mifflin (1906):

The morning, which is the most memorable season of the day, is the awakening hour. Then there is least somnolence in us; and for an hour, at least, some part of us awakes which slumbers all the rest of the day and night.

;^)

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