So far, 2014, I love you. The weather at my end of the world has been gorgeous, the husband's remained a lovely person to hang out with, even the dog has not embarrassed himself or us with those sharp little teeth of his. I have a book coming out in the US on January 28 - The Wedding Bees, FINALLY - and I have a little non-fiction something special coming your way if you happen to be Down Under in April too. I hope to go to Vietnam this year and Turkey too, with a little bit of Paris thrown in for good measure if I behave myself and if the balls currently in the air fall in the right pattern. My only complaint is a small one. Although, truth be told, not as small as it should be. Given that 2013 was quite busy for sitting down a lot and writing things, combined with going places a lot and eating things, I found out on Christmas Eve that, erm, to my dismay, blush, I just couldn't exactly, polite cough, fit any of my party dresses. Not even with a strong man helping, zipper-wise. Christmas Eve, of course, is possibly the worst time EVER to find this out because of the smorgasbord of eating and drinking opportunities stretching far into January. Quel horreur I would say had I bothered to ever learn French. Luckily I have a whole second wardrobe of clothes that can take a five kilo hit and actually life is much easier when you only have a choice between that one over there and the other one you wore yesterday. However, I am resolving, in as much as it is ever a good idea, to now not sit down so much and perhaps eat a tiny bit less, especially if it has chocolate in it. Or on it. Or near it. Oh, and to step away from the fries. Mostly. If not entirely. But more likely, mostly. Happy New Year!