Happy New Year, everybody!

It’s 9:49 p.m. on New Year’s Eve. Sam’s unconscious on the sofa, I’m at my computer feeling moderately crappy, and That’s Entertainment I, II and III are playing live on Turner Classic Movies … because, quite frankly, if anything could make me feel better it would be an evening of classic MGM musicals. (And a handful of opioids.)

It’s New Year’s Eve, Sam has “cabin fever” and I’m ordering Chinese food.

It’s 2 p.m. on a bitter cold New Year’s Eve. The outside temperature is 26° with a wind-chill of 13°. THAT’S FUCKING RIDICULOUS FOR TEXAS, people. And it’s also been dark, dismal and overcast for the last several days, which only makes it feel worse. Sam has developed “cabin fever,” a temporary mental illness that develops whenever you’re stuck indoors for a prolonged period of time and can’t get out to enjoy the sunshine. There isn’t any sunshine, and it’s just TOO DAMN COLD.

Trump says he has a secret trusted advisor on cyber security and Russian hacking.

Don’t look now ... but 2016 finally ground to a halt last night! I’m 65, and I’m positive that this was the most exhausting, revolting, emotionally-draining year I can ever remember ... even taking into account 1986 (finding out I had uterine cancer) and 1995 (divorcing my first husband). Therefore, in light of the obvious obstacle to happiness in the year ahead — i.e., Donald J. Trump, unless we can impeach the jerk by mid-February — I will instead wish each of you, and yours, a tolerable 2017. If we can squeak by with “tolerable” maybe I’ll finally be able to digest my food again.

Beautiful yet speedy scarf tricks for the new year.

Happy New Year to you and yours from both of us at Howdygram headquarters. I decided not to go to bed after waking up at 2 a.m. from an outrageously long and wonderful nap in the family room. So it’s 4:50 a.m. and I’ll just hang out with you until I get cross-eyed. Thank you.

I hope 2016 is amazing and filled with wonderful things. (Such as lots of fresh shrimp.)

Before Sam and I get down to the business at hand on New Year’s Eve — six Thin Man movies, fresh shrimp and a bucket of cocktail sauce — I wanted to write a quick Howdygram post so you won’t think I’m dead or ignoring you.

I hope 2015 is wonderful for you.

Sam is conked out in the family room watching In the Good Old Summertime (1949) starring Judy Garland and Van Johnson, there are celebration firecrackers — or maybe gunshots, since this is Texas after all — popping somewhere in the distance, but I couldn’t go to bed tonight without first saying THIS to each and every one of you.

Momentous Howdygram tweaks for the New Year.

At the moment I’m so tired I feel paralyzed. I tried to nap this morning after an early lunch — late breakfast? — of braunschweiger on low-carb pumpernickel except I kept waking up on the chaise every few minutes for no reason. Finally around 1 p.m. I decided to check my blood sugar, and sure enough ... IT WAS VERY LOW, and your brain won’t let you sleep through hypoglycemia. Which means now I’m being clobbered with a double whammy of exhaustion ... severe lack of sleep coupled with trying to rebound from a blood sugar low. Basically, I just want my maid to go home already so I can take another nap!

Happy New Year. Don’t freeze your ass off.

As if I needed another reason not to leave the house, we’re expecting some genuinely repulsive winter weather around here for New Year’s. The repulsive forecast pictured below includes repulsively cold temperatures starting NewYear’s Eve, SHITTY FREEZING RAIN on New Year’s Day and even more shitty rain on January 2. Plus, as an extra bonus at no additional charge, January 3 is lookin’ mighty shitty, too. Therefore Sam and I hereby announce our firm holiday plans to STAY HOME AND EAT A LOT OF FOOD, and to help prepare for our face-stuffing adventure Sam is already on his way to Costco with a neatly-typed list of favorites. Please pray for teeny tacos. They were out of them before Christmas.