Some rousing Ukrainian music by second-generation lads from West Yorkshire, just like my Jules (aka, Yuli within the family), seems as appropriate as any way to ring in this new year. Gets the blood pumping and all that rot.
Even though I feel like crap today. Just my regular crap. With bloody prednisone added to the mix to stave off an on-going IBD flare. There was a day when I only took meds for my crazy head... Now my whole flippin' body. As predicted, no overnight changes in my immediate state of so-called well-being. A little worse, actually. It's all day-to-day. I get tired of my own complaints. People expecting my chronic conditions to be "better". Wanna slap those folks and hand them the OED! I loathe a lazy brain.
Probably good that women are not "allowed" to dance the Hopak. Or so tradition abides. I'm sure there are many women dancing it today. But I shall just tap my foot to the increasing tempo and rest the remaining bits of my too-early-dilapidated self. As Jules would warn me - "No spring chicken moves, Bean!" Repeated every time I jump up into dance mode these days! Ah, it can be hard to keep a crazy redhead down... Even if she knows she'll pay later!
