Anything more need be said here? I'm just discussing my fashion influences with Izzy, "When all else fails and you don't know what to wear, just ask your self 'What would Pippi do?' " If Miss Longstocking doesn't have the answer, no one does.

    So the dogs--the big ones who belong to our neighbors but who live on my front porch--start yapping this morning and won't quit. I mean they Just Won't Quit. And it's pissing me off. I'm trying to record a new audio book in my studio, but have to hit the 'stop' button over and over as a new round of yapping starts up. A few minutes later Silas comes into the studio: "Did you see the balloons land?" I give him a look that clearly says 'Scuse me? "The balloons--that's what the dogs are barking at." And like an eight year old who'll dash out the door expecting to see Professor Marvel landing his hot air balloon outside her back door, I bolt outside.  That's when I see there's a cluster of balloons out in the sage, three brown woolly dogs barking their heads off to protest the intrusion.

"You gotta go get it," I say to Silas. "You just know there's a message attached. Wonder what it says? Go Go Go!" It's not just that I'm lazy. He happened to be more warmly dressed than me. And I'm lazy. Two good reasons for him to do the trekking and exploring. So he grabs his coat, dons his snow boots and goes clomping out to the cheery spheres waving in the wind, as if to say "Hi! We're here! Over here! Come get us!". He untangles them from the sage and they keep waving about like they're so excited to have landed at last.

Sure enough there's a message attached, and if it hadn't been signed by Corban and Arin, I would have thought it was a message from Silas's inner child. It's snowed a good bit since December, but not enough for Silas. It's melting too quickly and he wants more. We fantasize that next snowfall we'll go find a place to sled. We talk about it ever few days.  And I swear the little Piccasso-esque drawing on the note features a wee person on a sled, heading down a snow covered hill.

This really is the land of enchantment. How many times have I thought about attaching my wishes to a balloon and sending them into the Great Wide Somewhere? I guess this means that my own backyard really is the Great Wide Somewhere, if these wishes landed here. Maybe that makes me Professor Marvel? Or Glenda the Good? Now only if I could remember where I put my magic wand. I'd use it and Corban, Arin, Silas and I would all go sledding under the shadow of a hot air balloon.

For New Year's we got a snowstorm and none of us could be happier. OK, Tinky could. She's brave but she's bald. But Izzy is a snowbucket of love, she can't get enough of the stuff. We dressed in our toastiest and headed out doors for the downpouring of white goodness.

Happy New Year to All. In case you don't feel it already, 2009 is going to be a year of joy. Look for it and it'll appear. Like white snow falling against a backdrop of white sky is often hard to see at first, but soon it piles high and covers everything around in its blanket of yumminess, so, too, the joy often disguises itself as everyday events. But if you know where to look, soon you're noticing the joybanks and joypiles and you just wanna grab your hat and go running right out into it.

Here's to joyous 2009!