The first day of the New Year is unique: it is the only day of the year that we awake brimming with a sense of freshly baked optimism for the future and all the changes we must morph through in order to achieve it. Change becomes our mantra and we gaze (perhaps in a somewhat hung-over and bleary fashion) into the morning (or afternoon) sunlight and promise ourselves that each perceived personal flaw would resolutely be met by minute modifications in our individual habits.
Or we say, “oh to hell with this” and go back to bed having sensed that we suck and there’s no changing that.
I did neither this morning. Better Half woke me up and I stumbled downstairs to watch the 120th Rose Parade. I always stumble downstairs. It’s more effective than launching myself from the landing.
The Rose Parade was, as always, pleasant. I prefer their coverage to the Macy’s Parade’s, which floods my television screen with a bunch of revolting pop stars and crappy actresses, cuts the show performances and purposely neglects to show the NYPD band. Why watch the NYPD band when we can watch Miley Cyrus and Push Play gush to all their admirers!
I spent the rest of this day being an unproductive lump. I did eat some crackers and deli meat. That isn’t productive in of itself, but it did please my empty tummy. Better Half and I called our parents, and I called my aunts.
Our New Year’s Eve was peaceful. (My whole intention was to write a post about it and you’ll notice that I was sidetracked. Shame on me.) We enjoyed a smorgasbord of wafers, pastrami, Prosciutto, corned beef ribbons, Chabis Feuille, Morbier (Le morbier, l'authentique fromage montagnard franc-comtois, au lait cru et à la fameuse raie cendrée. Délicieux), shrimp and red beans and rice. We sipped Prosecco DiConegliano, finishing the bottle at midnight. Per our tradition, we called my parents and wished them a Happy New Year.
I feel a nap coming on now.
Happy New Year!
PS: the Pomeranian pictured above is suffering from a cheese coma. Yes, there's an ancient television in the background.
Simmering shrimp
PS again: just kidding about the dog. She's asleep and easily posed. Here she is without her head:
2 responded with...:
Blogger ate this entry. I had to retrieve it from the web crawler. If you left a comment, I did not delete it on purpose. I can't retrieve those.
Well darn that blogger. They actually EAT posts? Bummer. Your dog is a riot. Did you post him like that. Did he actually stand for it.
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