Thus ends the Best Year Ever

L'shanah tova, Francey Pantsers!

Today is Rosh Hashana, the Jewish new year, and all us tribelings spent the day ringing in 5772 with apples and honey, some shofar tooting, lots of singin' and prayin' (and maybe a little schmooze or a kvetch), etc.

I've got high hopes for '72, but I doubt any year could top the one I just had. Here's just a sampling of all the awesome:

• A woman I'd never met exfoliated the bejeezus out of my tuchus while sliding me around a soaped-up marble platform at a hammam in Morocco.
• I realized I'd been repeatedly stabbing myself in the heel with a nail that had been lodged in my shoe for months. 
• I upped my alcohol tolerance by a good 300% after a few early morning wine tastings.
• A man named Pierre gave me a handy lesson in semantics.
• I came to peanut butter's defense.
• The grocery stores in Digoin adopted a strict American-Free policy when Dude arrived.
• I learned the best (and worst) ways to make a Frenchy laugh.
• I mourned the loss of my maiden name.
• I devised a bridal workout regimen.
• I discovered paint.

The last few months have been very change-y for me, with a new address, new job, and new marital status. I think that will be the theme of 5772: Settling Down Now that My Ya-Yas are Spent. 

Wishing a year of peace for you, my friends. And plenty of Force G.