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Last year, in late May, when my husband and I traveled to Annapolis, Maryland, to my niece's high school graduation, we walked the harbor area and passed a store that makes these wood nautical map clocks. We walked in, at my insistence (my husband is not the shopping, never mind window shopping, type at all), but they didn't have any Puerto Rico clocks. "That's too bad," I said, and then forgot about it.

Well, unbeknown to me, my husband was listening and arranged to have this one made and delivered in time for Three Kings Day. I opened it on Three Kings Eve, having no clue what he'd gotten me, and was delighted. Not only is the clock (now adorning the wall of my home office) lovely, but it's also such a sweet present, especially considering that we're going to be 20 years married this summer. Such a long time and he's still listening, and he still cares. As my father used to say all the time, Dios me vino a ver cuando conocí a mi marido.

Three Kings Day was extra special this year because on the Friday before I'd undergone the scary heart ablation that I've been dodging since I was diagnosed with atrial flutter about eight years ago. It wasn't an experience I'd care to repeat any time soon (someday I'll tell you about being all prepped and ready on the gurney, waiting for the doctor, wide awake and not yet sedated, when the techs started playing Beastie Boys on the speaker system! Let's just say that wouldn't have been my choice of pre-invasive procedure music at all!). But now that my heart seems to have finally settled down (now, as my husband likes to say, we wait for nothing to happen--that is, for no more alarming crazy heart episodes) I wonder if I should've done it before. That's what the surgeon at the Cleveland Clinic, the man who performed the operation that saved my life and gave me this second chance, said before the ileostomy I had almost 13 years ago. That I would regret not having it done before because the quality of life it would return to my life would be so great. I didn't believe him then but I believed him after. He was, of course, right. Likewise, with this ablation, I might have saved myself many unpleasant and frightful moments if I hadn't been such a chicken to begin with. We'll have to see. It's still too early to tell.

For now, I'm taking it easier than usual since there lots to recover from even though it wasn't open-heart surgery (don't want to even imagine). But so far so good.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I had to stay pretty much bedridden from 48 to 72 hours after the procedure, time I gladly spent in bed catching up on sleep. Everyone else, seemingly, thought this was a good idea, so I often had Darwin (who loves to "claim" me when I'm napping by lying right on top of me, male cat that he is) and Lizzy and Chiquita (can you find her in the second photo?) in bed with me. It always makes me smile to feel all that furry love around me.

And that's what this year has started with, lots of love. My mom came to be with me, which was very nice of her since she braved some of the coldest weather in Ohio (never mind this country's) history, and my family and close friends sent me best wishes and muchos cariños. If the new year develops as it began, then it will be a year full of love, of all kinds, and that's something to very much look forward to.