There are a coupla reasons for the silly state of my face.

1. Getting to sleep-in until 8 am after having had DaSon wake me each day between 5:40 and 6:15 for multiple days in a row. After having read until 3-ish, (notice that I steal my alone-time from meself?) I was thrilled and shocked to find him sleeping when I awoke this fine, sunny, not-too-frigging-smoggy morn.

2. I got a belated Happy Christmas gift from a UK friend. Presents are nice. Mostly, I think they are overrated. Now and again, someone decides to deed you something that you would never have thought of wanting or needing�and those are the-things-that-make-another-human�s-philanthropy achieve the state of phatness. Said gift being a late 1940�s British Carnie sign from a tilt-a-whirl (Jolly Roger, over there.) Now this lovely hand-painted masterpiece is only slightly chipped and has the adage �Open Your Knees And Feel The Breeze� painted upon it. It is just wide enough to become a king-size headboard�and thus, it will go above the king guest bed. My son�s Nana (my mom) is overdue out here for a visit�and she (as the person who taught me to fucking-swear) has, ahem, rewritten her life. Because, today, married to a sweet guy who is also an ex-army-colonel and a rather died-in-the-wool member of the Grand Old Party, she is now a �Southern Lady Who Lunches.� Imagine how wonderfully torn she will be about asking (or being polite and lady-like and not mentioning it) about the signage over her forthcoming bed. Think on that. DaSauce has�and is grinning as a result.

In the well-meant-and-not-really-catty category, comes today�s food-news, there is a prime-mutha of a standing-rib roast in the offing as New Year�s Day fare, and I get to teach my wonderful leetle boy how to cook Yorkshire pudding. To the vegans in the audience, this piece of decomposing steer flesh is chock-a-block with marbling and would actually brighten up the faces of those who can�t even mow the lawn (because it hurts the grass, you see.)

**disclaimer**

Now. I should apologize�in however a sideways manner�to any insulted nonomnivore in attendance. Um, sorry. I know that hearing about carnivorous activity makes you queasy. I shan�t do it too often. [Grinning like the dolt I am over here.] I love vegetables and fruits and nuts. But I also love a comment from a non-omnivore pal that goes: �Vegetables are what meat eats.�

**disclaimer-ends**

This morning�s happy-diatribe ends with what has to be one of the loveliest gentle-smackdowns I have read from a diaryland writer. GolfWidow (again, excuse my lack of .html experience: http://golfwidow.diaryland.com) had a list of things that folks ought to change in the coming year (if they were indicted/indicated by her text.)

Here�s a snip that warmed the cockles of DatSauceGuy�s heart:

**snipped from GolfWidow**

Stop trying to pretend that you're smarter than everyone just 'cos someone gave you an important job. Note: the more words you mispronounce, the more you hammer this point home, Mr. Sublinial Newkyoolar, otherwise known as the Leader of the Free World. So choose your words with care. Or get someone to choose them with care for you, if you're not good at such things. Note: This means you, Mr. Not Much Anymore, formerly known as Mr. Lott.

**snipped from GolfWidow**