In my last post, written in December, I used the phrase “ludicrously cold” to describe a brisk day in Colorado. That was perhaps a mistake, since I subsequently spent New Year’s Eve (and much of the week that followed) in northern Minnesota, where wind chills reached a bitter -50F for three nights in a row.

It was treacherous and freezing, but it was beautiful.

We made the most of being trapped indoors: we played board games, skated on an indoor ice rink, made sushi, ate delicious heart-shaped waffles.

Back in Colorado, Dulcinea is still recovering from a Christmas mishap that left her with a scratched-up red nose. We’re calling it the Rudolph Incident because that sounds much better than “unprovoked attack by a vicious dog.”

Whenever I see the scars on Dulcie’s nose, my heart breaks a little. But she’s healing fast, getting better all the time. And she’s just as sweet as she ever was, just as beautiful and precious.

At the beginning of this New Year, I’ve been counting my blessings. I’m grateful for my warm home, my amazing family. I’m grateful for my feisty kitties and my safe-and-sound puppy. I’m grateful for the work I’m able to do as a writer, for the birds that show up in my yard. I’m grateful for all the new books in my house, which promise to transport me to new worlds.

My hope for 2014 is that I’ll remain grateful every day. I hope I’ll be curious and optimistic and creative as well, but mainly I hope to remain grateful. It’s a new year.