My friend Lisa and I went to see Juno last night. A charming little movie, very funny. Despite a very specific (and common) technical fault that I promise to rant in depth about later, I really enjoyed it. Part of the way through, I realized I'd had too much water to drink and had to take a break, but I didn't want to miss anything, so I tried to pick a time when the main character wasn't in the scene to go. Hilariously odd dialogue, heart-rendingly geeky and unique characters. Weird, but in a way that I like. Highly recommended. Joe Bob says check it out.
(Ok, Joe Bob most likely does not say check it out, but I used to read his reviews of kung-fu and slasher films in the Chronicle's Pink Section every week, so the phrase just pops into my mind when I think about movie reviews. There is no anything-fu, and no gratuitous nakedity in this movie.)
Part of what I enjoyed about the evening was our little Cameo Cinema, the St. Helena theater. It only holds about 100 people, if that, and was in danger of closing recently. It was restored less than 10 years ago, and now has lavender velvet seats, including special double "cuddle" seats in the back rows, beautiful blown-glass sconces along the walls, and a purple velvet curtain. Vintage movie posters hang in the foyer, and the ladies room is papered with vintage black and white movie star head shots.
The owners who so lovingly renovated the theater had decided to retire, and for a long time, it looked like our wonderful little Cameo might be closed. Then some nice folks came forward and are really putting their hearts into it. It was so charming last night when they came out before the movie and made some announcements, thanked us all for coming, and asked us to pick up our own popcorn containers. St. Helena may be an up-market small town, but it's still a small town. I wouldn't see a movie anywhere else.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Ta-Da!
Mighty nice bread. Highly recommended. One of the other people who had made the recipe recommended using a quick-read thermometer and taking the bread out when it reached 190, which I did. This seemed to work. It was nice to have a couple of pieces with butter right out of the oven today.
Better Than a Cake
Tuesday. Raining. Cold. Preoccupied. Bread is on the shopping list, so why not make it?
(This recipe is from All Recipes.com)
They are in the oven now. I'll let you know how they turn out. The camera is at the ready. If they are pretty, which they seem to be, I'll put a picture up later today. (Real-time blogging!)
(This recipe is from All Recipes.com)
Simple Wheat Bread
NOTE: this recipe makes 3 loaves-- reduce as needed
INGREDIENTS
3 cups warm water (110 degrees F/45 degrees C)
2 (.25 ounce) packages active dry yeast
1/3 cup honey
5 cups bread flour
3 tablespoons butter, melted
1/3 cup honey
1 tablespoon salt
+/- 3 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
2 tablespoons butter, melted
(My changes: I used 2.5 c bread flour and the rest whole wheat. I also added 1/2 c ground flax, 1/2 cup wheat bulgur, and about 1/4 cup soaked farro, or semi-pearled barley. I also used 1/2 molasses and 1/2 honey.)
DIRECTIONS
1. In a large bowl, mix warm water, yeast, and 1/3 cup honey. Add 5 cups white bread flour, and stir to combine. Let set for 30 minutes, or until big and bubbly. (This took about 30 minutes.)
2. Mix in 3 tablespoons melted butter, 1/3 cup honey, and salt. Stir in 2 cups whole wheat flour.
3. Flour a flat surface and knead with whole wheat flour until not real sticky - just pulling away from the counter, but still sticky to touch. This may take an additional 2 to 4 cups of whole wheat flour. Place in a greased bowl, turning once to coat the surface of the dough. Cover with a dishtowel. Let rise in a warm place until doubled. (Today I used the Kitchen Aid with the dough hook, divided the stirred dough in half and kneaded each half on #2 for about 10 minutes, adding 1/2 cup whole wheat flour at a time. It took 2 more cups of flour for the first portion of dough, and the second portion took 1.5 more. The rise took about 1 hour.)
4. Punch down, and divide into 3 loaves. Place in greased 9 x 5 inch loaf pans, and allow to rise until dough has topped the pans by one inch. (I set a timer for 30 minutes, with the loaves in a barely warm oven. Just about right.)
5. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 25 to 30 minutes; do not overbake. Lightly brush the tops of loaves with 2 tablespoons melted butter or margarine when done to prevent crust from getting hard. Cool completely. (Other readers recommended turning out on a wire rack to cool to avoid steaming.)
They are in the oven now. I'll let you know how they turn out. The camera is at the ready. If they are pretty, which they seem to be, I'll put a picture up later today. (Real-time blogging!)
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Happy Blogaversary to Me
Last January, I started typing to myself on a little blog. The first post was fairly tentative. I didn't tell anyone about it for about a month, then I told one or two people. After that, I fell down, so I chronicled the progress of my big knee owie.
How far I have come in a year! I think I will make myself a cake.
How far I have come in a year! I think I will make myself a cake.
For Someone in My Family Who is Going Through a Rough Patch
I am sorry you are hurting and I wish I could just make it go away. You are smart and you are special. You are going to conquer this, brick by brick, piece by piece, because you are smart and you are going to work at it. Sometimes you will fall down, and then you will get back up and try your best again. Sometimes you will cry, but that is just your heart breaking open to make more room for the love and good stuff that is going to come to you.
I love you.
PS- If you think this is you, you are right. If you don't think it's you, or you don't know me, it's for you too.
I love you.
PS- If you think this is you, you are right. If you don't think it's you, or you don't know me, it's for you too.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Lights on for Safety, Please
Just a quick note: as I drove to the winery today in the rain, I noticed quite a few cars without their lights on. A silver or gray car is almost invisible from a distance, especially against wet pavement or a gray sky. To add to that, it's now against the law in California to drive with your wipers, but not your lights, on when it's raining. Those little yellow parking lights don't count.
Please remember to turn your lights on when you drive in any kind of limited visibility weather (no matter what color your car is). The car that you don't see, or that doesn't see you, is the one that hits you. Visibility is safety.
Please remember to turn your lights on when you drive in any kind of limited visibility weather (no matter what color your car is). The car that you don't see, or that doesn't see you, is the one that hits you. Visibility is safety.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Like Freaking Snow White
As the dog and I went on our walk, we were surrounded by the chirping of a hundred tiny birds, so tiny and invisible that it seemed the trees themselves were singing, with a sound that reminded me of water soaking into porous concrete by the side of the pool. (If you've ever had your head against the ground when water was splashed on the concrete edge, as I have, you know what I mean. Think sunbathing, not emergency room.)
The drizzle that has been going on for a few days had broken for just a bit, and it seemed like all the little birds were celebrating the break, and the chance to get out there and get some seeds and bugs and fresh green sprouts. On a small sapling, a dozen 2" yellow, black and white birds (goldfinches? warblers?) chipped and peeped at each other. A red house finch pecked at the ground ahead, and to top it off, a cerulean bluebird flew past and lighted on a limb across the lane.
Hmmm. Cerulean is such a pretty word, and it does mean blue, but one dictionary lists it as "deep, purplish blue" which is what I meant, and another as "sky blue", which, in my mind is more cyan, and is not what I meant. I mean velvety dark blue, like a sapphire or the Aegean.
Either way, it was a magical little scene, with the mists making tissue paper layers of the hills in the distance, the bright little birds flitting by, and the splash of yellow mustard flowers between the dark vines.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Soup Tuesday
Today, between working and catching up on the blog, I am making leek and potato soup, recipe courtesy of chocolate and zucchini again.
To start with, I had a chicken carcass in the fridge from a hickory-roasted rosemary chicken that Mike made a couple of days ago. There was too much flavor in that thing to let it go to waste. So I caramelized some mirepoix vegetables in my big stock pot (thank you Grandma and Grandpa). In English, that's an onion, two carrots and a stalk of celery, which is what I had on hand. I tossed in the carcass and boiled it up with approximately 12 pint glasses of water (that was the measuring unit I had on hand as well). Forgot entirely to put in the peppercorns, juniper berries and bay that I usually throw in, but there was so much in there already with the rosemary, garlic and hickory from the chicken that I don't think it needed it.
While it was boiling, I cleaned and chopped my leeks, then sweated them in a saucepan with olive oil, butter and salt. When they were done, I put them aside on a plate and about 10 small yukon gold potatoes took their place in the same pot, which was then filled to cover with the warm stock. I boiled the potatoes in the stock until they were soft, dumped the leeks back in the pot, added some more stock and pureed with my new stick blender (thank you Monty). Then I added more stock to get the right consistency, a little salt and fresh black pepper, and voila, dinner is made. Some nice bread and a salad oughta do it. Finally, I have cooked my way out of my veggie box leek back-up.
I see now from checking out the recipe that I could have boiled the leeks and the potatoes together in the stock and saved a couple of steps, but this was the way it worked out. Pretty tasty, very easy.
The Thrill of Victory, the Agony of Undergarments
A friend and I went shopping in the mall-mecca of the Broadway Plaza in Walnut Creek last week. Both of us are in the midst of death-by-boredom fashion crises. Tyla because she has two kids, a new body and no time, me because I am over 40 (just barely), work at home, and no longer shop for entertainment. Envision a world of fleece, jeans and clogs, and you will know our pain. So Tyla's husband Vincent thoughtfully arranged a shopping date as a sort of Christmas present for Ty, and I was glad to be the escort.
Since it was raining, we couldn't spend too much time strolling the faux-downtown mall district, rather we focused on a few stores, mainly Nordstrom.
It's hard to get a handle on some of the new shapes out there, like short, boxy jackets that end at the waist and make you look sort of like a paper doll. I've seen them worn in cute ways, but with my linebacker shoulders and short waist, they seem to emphasize the fact that I look more like a cereal box than a supermodel. And jeans! I don't know where people get the super-dark-wash, slightly faded in the front, make your butt look great and eliminate muffin-top jeans, but I think it's a secret store with a peep-hole and a password, because I can't find it.
While cruising for camisoles in the lingerie department, we inquired as to whether they had a bra-fitting specialist on duty, and since they did, we had ourselves measured. I didn't really intend to shop for bras, but while I was waiting for Tyla outside the lingerie fitting room, I figured what the heck. She sounded like she was having fun. I felt like the bra I had on was comfortable and looked smooth under shirts, so I thought I had done a pretty good job. Wrong. There are signs in the dressing rooms that say "8 out of 10 women are wearing the wrong bra." We were two of those eight.
Here's how bra-fitting works: If you are unsure of your bra size, they will measure you. The young lady doing the fitting checked out the bra I was wearing and it appeared to be the right size around (I'm not sure what this is called-- the band size?) She asked what size I was currently wearing, which I told her but I am not going to tell you. Then she brought in a "fitting bra" which is a soft-cup, semi-sheer bra (Wacoal was the brand) that is in the size she thinks you need. It was not so flattering. Lots of seams. Industrial strength, with sheer fabric and flowers so you don't forget you're a girl, I guess. If you fill the cup, then that's the size you are. I was shocked to find out that I was a cup size larger than I thought I was. Or thought I would ever be. We are not a naturally large-busted family, for the most part.
So, once your size is determined, she brings you an armload of bras: wide-set straps, demi-cup, full coverage, semi-sheer, patterns, colors, you name it, and at least one "t-shirt" bra, that is, a beige one that is lightly padded, not to add size, but to be more, um, discreet. All of these bras are in your "real" size, in my case, my new, larger size. And darnit if they didn't all fit, so I started to believe that she was indeed right. After I got over the shock.
The one I ended up taking home was made by Natori, and it did look far better under my crummy white t-shirt than the one I had on, both in the front and in the back. Tyla liked her new bra (same style as mine) so much better that she threw the one she had on in the garbage and wore the new one home. Hope she doesn't mind me telling you that. We were so thrilled that we thanked the sweet salesgirl over and over and sashayed out with our new purchases, pleased that we were now the two women out of ten who did have the right size bras.
A word about Nordstrom here: Their customer service is legendary among customer service trainers and book writers. While I've been at a few Nordie's stores that were staffed with some of the same raised-by-wolves, no-eye-contact teenagers as the rest of the stores in the mall, overall, they are definitely better. In some Macy's, for example, I can walk around for five minutes with something in my hand to try on, searching for someone to let me into a dressing room. In the shoe department at Macy's in Santa Rosa Plaza, by the time one of the leaners gets around to asking me if I'd like to try the shoe I've been carrying around, I feel like saying, "No thanks, I just wanted to see how heavy it was for a while." In Nordstrom, someone generally acknowledges me as soon as I enter their department. I really appreciate feeling welcome and cared for when I shop. I like Macy's; I grew up with a Macy's so I'm more familiar with it. I just wish they'd get their service training act together, as it varies so much from store to store.
On this day, we chose to have lunch at Nordstrom's cafe inside the store. I'll go on with my bra shopping story, but I do want to point out several things that they did right: 1) When the line was a few people long--just enough that you might decide it was too long and walk away, someone came out and said hello and handed out menus to all the people waiting in line. This not only sped up the decision making process at the counter, it made us feel included and got us thinking about all of the things we might be hungry for. 2) At the counter, one order-taker was floating between the window and the line, making eye-contact and helping where needed. 3) When we paid and turned around to find a place to sit, there was someone there to welcome and assist us. I think she even said "make yourselves comfortable". The service was fast, the food was fairly healthy, fresh and hot, and we were grateful that it was convenient and good. We tipped well, we felt good about the store, and we spent our lunch money in the store rather than going elsewhere. Same thing with the bras: because there was a fitting service, we were happy to spend more money at Nordstrom.
So, all in all, it was a good shopping day. We were careful not to tire ourselves, even though we tried each and every thing on. When in doubt, we did not take the item home. A couple of cheap impulse buys at H&M slipped through for me in the frenzy, but nothing major.
When I got home, I showed my new bra to Mike, who heartily agreed that it was the right size and looked better under the t-shirt. It felt a bit itchy, in a new-clothes sort of way, so I tossed in the cold water wash on delicate and hung it to dry.
The next day, I wore my new bra to work. It looked so much better under my t-shirt and fleece. A few hours into the day, I realized that my new bra was still itchy in the middle, and not only that, the underwires were poking me in the armpits when I sat down or slouched. Great posture therapy, I suppose, but it made for a maddening workday. By the end of the day I was distracted and cranky, and when I got home, I undressed and was out of the bra as soon as I walked through the door.
So now what? Bra is washed and worn once. Cup is the right size, underwires are too tall. Natori is not a cheap brand. I'm still pretty sure Nordstrom would take it back. They are, as in everything else, very customer oriented about returns. I feel slightly discouraged that I didn't spot the itchy places early-- bras are like shoes, I suppose, in that if they pinch or poke or itch somewhere, you won't wear them in. I no longer have the patience I did in my 20's to "break in" sexy, lacy bras with itchy spots. I don't know why they don't line all pretty lace bras with soft t-shirt material. Ok, I know why, but the point is, I don't have the patience anymore. So I guess it's back to the store again. Unfortunately, I probably won't be going back to Walnut Creek anytime soon. I just know that sweet bra fitter would sympathize and know just the low-profile underwire bra for me. So I'll have to brave the bra fitting wilds again on my own and hope for the best.
Since it was raining, we couldn't spend too much time strolling the faux-downtown mall district, rather we focused on a few stores, mainly Nordstrom.
It's hard to get a handle on some of the new shapes out there, like short, boxy jackets that end at the waist and make you look sort of like a paper doll. I've seen them worn in cute ways, but with my linebacker shoulders and short waist, they seem to emphasize the fact that I look more like a cereal box than a supermodel. And jeans! I don't know where people get the super-dark-wash, slightly faded in the front, make your butt look great and eliminate muffin-top jeans, but I think it's a secret store with a peep-hole and a password, because I can't find it.
While cruising for camisoles in the lingerie department, we inquired as to whether they had a bra-fitting specialist on duty, and since they did, we had ourselves measured. I didn't really intend to shop for bras, but while I was waiting for Tyla outside the lingerie fitting room, I figured what the heck. She sounded like she was having fun. I felt like the bra I had on was comfortable and looked smooth under shirts, so I thought I had done a pretty good job. Wrong. There are signs in the dressing rooms that say "8 out of 10 women are wearing the wrong bra." We were two of those eight.
Here's how bra-fitting works: If you are unsure of your bra size, they will measure you. The young lady doing the fitting checked out the bra I was wearing and it appeared to be the right size around (I'm not sure what this is called-- the band size?) She asked what size I was currently wearing, which I told her but I am not going to tell you. Then she brought in a "fitting bra" which is a soft-cup, semi-sheer bra (Wacoal was the brand) that is in the size she thinks you need. It was not so flattering. Lots of seams. Industrial strength, with sheer fabric and flowers so you don't forget you're a girl, I guess. If you fill the cup, then that's the size you are. I was shocked to find out that I was a cup size larger than I thought I was. Or thought I would ever be. We are not a naturally large-busted family, for the most part.
So, once your size is determined, she brings you an armload of bras: wide-set straps, demi-cup, full coverage, semi-sheer, patterns, colors, you name it, and at least one "t-shirt" bra, that is, a beige one that is lightly padded, not to add size, but to be more, um, discreet. All of these bras are in your "real" size, in my case, my new, larger size. And darnit if they didn't all fit, so I started to believe that she was indeed right. After I got over the shock.
The one I ended up taking home was made by Natori, and it did look far better under my crummy white t-shirt than the one I had on, both in the front and in the back. Tyla liked her new bra (same style as mine) so much better that she threw the one she had on in the garbage and wore the new one home. Hope she doesn't mind me telling you that. We were so thrilled that we thanked the sweet salesgirl over and over and sashayed out with our new purchases, pleased that we were now the two women out of ten who did have the right size bras.
A word about Nordstrom here: Their customer service is legendary among customer service trainers and book writers. While I've been at a few Nordie's stores that were staffed with some of the same raised-by-wolves, no-eye-contact teenagers as the rest of the stores in the mall, overall, they are definitely better. In some Macy's, for example, I can walk around for five minutes with something in my hand to try on, searching for someone to let me into a dressing room. In the shoe department at Macy's in Santa Rosa Plaza, by the time one of the leaners gets around to asking me if I'd like to try the shoe I've been carrying around, I feel like saying, "No thanks, I just wanted to see how heavy it was for a while." In Nordstrom, someone generally acknowledges me as soon as I enter their department. I really appreciate feeling welcome and cared for when I shop. I like Macy's; I grew up with a Macy's so I'm more familiar with it. I just wish they'd get their service training act together, as it varies so much from store to store.
On this day, we chose to have lunch at Nordstrom's cafe inside the store. I'll go on with my bra shopping story, but I do want to point out several things that they did right: 1) When the line was a few people long--just enough that you might decide it was too long and walk away, someone came out and said hello and handed out menus to all the people waiting in line. This not only sped up the decision making process at the counter, it made us feel included and got us thinking about all of the things we might be hungry for. 2) At the counter, one order-taker was floating between the window and the line, making eye-contact and helping where needed. 3) When we paid and turned around to find a place to sit, there was someone there to welcome and assist us. I think she even said "make yourselves comfortable". The service was fast, the food was fairly healthy, fresh and hot, and we were grateful that it was convenient and good. We tipped well, we felt good about the store, and we spent our lunch money in the store rather than going elsewhere. Same thing with the bras: because there was a fitting service, we were happy to spend more money at Nordstrom.
So, all in all, it was a good shopping day. We were careful not to tire ourselves, even though we tried each and every thing on. When in doubt, we did not take the item home. A couple of cheap impulse buys at H&M slipped through for me in the frenzy, but nothing major.
When I got home, I showed my new bra to Mike, who heartily agreed that it was the right size and looked better under the t-shirt. It felt a bit itchy, in a new-clothes sort of way, so I tossed in the cold water wash on delicate and hung it to dry.
The next day, I wore my new bra to work. It looked so much better under my t-shirt and fleece. A few hours into the day, I realized that my new bra was still itchy in the middle, and not only that, the underwires were poking me in the armpits when I sat down or slouched. Great posture therapy, I suppose, but it made for a maddening workday. By the end of the day I was distracted and cranky, and when I got home, I undressed and was out of the bra as soon as I walked through the door.
So now what? Bra is washed and worn once. Cup is the right size, underwires are too tall. Natori is not a cheap brand. I'm still pretty sure Nordstrom would take it back. They are, as in everything else, very customer oriented about returns. I feel slightly discouraged that I didn't spot the itchy places early-- bras are like shoes, I suppose, in that if they pinch or poke or itch somewhere, you won't wear them in. I no longer have the patience I did in my 20's to "break in" sexy, lacy bras with itchy spots. I don't know why they don't line all pretty lace bras with soft t-shirt material. Ok, I know why, but the point is, I don't have the patience anymore. So I guess it's back to the store again. Unfortunately, I probably won't be going back to Walnut Creek anytime soon. I just know that sweet bra fitter would sympathize and know just the low-profile underwire bra for me. So I'll have to brave the bra fitting wilds again on my own and hope for the best.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Oh Yeah.
The silver lining to weeks of drizzle:
The two things I miss most about the old place are the miles and miles of forest paths to walk, and our super-secret patch of giant chanterelle mushrooms. Looks like Mike has discovered a new spot. We feel so smug when we walk into the grocery store and see these selling for $25-35 a pound! Last year was so dry that either chanterelles didn't happen, or we missed the one window of opportunity. I think I remember Mike saying he found one small dried-up one. This year, he found one a few weeks ago that was huge but had seen better days. We thought we'd missed it again. Hooray!
The two things I miss most about the old place are the miles and miles of forest paths to walk, and our super-secret patch of giant chanterelle mushrooms. Looks like Mike has discovered a new spot. We feel so smug when we walk into the grocery store and see these selling for $25-35 a pound! Last year was so dry that either chanterelles didn't happen, or we missed the one window of opportunity. I think I remember Mike saying he found one small dried-up one. This year, he found one a few weeks ago that was huge but had seen better days. We thought we'd missed it again. Hooray!
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Hiatus
Tonight I'm making the "Birthday Chicken" recipe from chocolateandzucchini.com for the first time. I got some rather, um... fragrant... green olives, the lingering vapors of which I am smelling right now. I hope the kalamata/diaper-y aroma blows off by the time the chicken is done... Here is the link to the recipe in case you want to try it. I recommend tasting the green olives you decide to use before you mix them up with the marinade. It has lots of flavors going on besides the olives, so I think it will be good. (Important note: if you are going to make the recipe, prepare and marinate the chicken the previous day. I did not notice this in the instructions until 6pm yesterday, so thank goodness we had an alternate dinner in the fridge.)
I'm taking a little break from the blog due to extra work (cool!) and the need not to type for a while and rest my arm, so please enjoy these new photos. Can you tell the difference between the old camera and the new one?
In other news, the silver trench went back. I wore it out (once, for about 2 hours, over something else) and got as lukewarm a response as I did online. I think it was just too much shiny-ness for me. I picked up a much more subtle flash of silver in the form of a little blouse. So I'll try that out and see how that goes. (I'm waiting for the photos to load up, by the way.) Trenchcoats never suit me quite right anyway. I've always loved the look of belted things on other people, but I'm short-waisted, so the belt just bunches everything up in the little bit of waist space that I have and makes me look thick. So I feel good that I returned that. And the boots I got on sale at Nordstrom, and the blouse that I thought would be a good all-purpose holiday piece that was too big for me and that I finally saw on someone in a weight-loss commercial. All gone. Time to rest the arm. G'night.
I'm taking a little break from the blog due to extra work (cool!) and the need not to type for a while and rest my arm, so please enjoy these new photos. Can you tell the difference between the old camera and the new one?
In other news, the silver trench went back. I wore it out (once, for about 2 hours, over something else) and got as lukewarm a response as I did online. I think it was just too much shiny-ness for me. I picked up a much more subtle flash of silver in the form of a little blouse. So I'll try that out and see how that goes. (I'm waiting for the photos to load up, by the way.) Trenchcoats never suit me quite right anyway. I've always loved the look of belted things on other people, but I'm short-waisted, so the belt just bunches everything up in the little bit of waist space that I have and makes me look thick. So I feel good that I returned that. And the boots I got on sale at Nordstrom, and the blouse that I thought would be a good all-purpose holiday piece that was too big for me and that I finally saw on someone in a weight-loss commercial. All gone. Time to rest the arm. G'night.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
New Year's Day 2008
I just thought of another memorable NYE: my very last night at Tra Vigne. I worked there for five years, working my way up from host(ess) to manager and wine buyer, and my very last shift, my very last day, was NYE. I really did love that place when I was there, and I learned almost everything I now know about food and wine. (By the way, we've just come from dinner this evening, so I've had a little of both already.)
But by the time I left, I was ready to go. And then some. So that night was bittersweet. I recently came across a photo of me on my last night, in my very favorite Ann Taylor pinstriped suit, wearing a sequined paper tiara and a huge smile. I was standing on the bar with the general manager, and another manager, counting down the seconds.
The crowd had been particularly jovial and lively that night, and I think we had some Italian musicians strolling about. People were getting up and dancing, and the dining room and bar were jam-packed. All my friends had come down to the restaurant to take me home at shift's end. Mike was there. After the countdown and the noisemakers and the popping of a hundred corks, I strolled down the bar crying and kissed all the bartenders goodbye, hugging all of the managers and my work friends, and, like the big shepherd's crook in a vaudeville show, Mike's arm came out and hooked me and he carried me away.
That was tons of fun. THAT'S what NYE should be like. A great big, crying, laughing, loud, raucous farewell party to the old year, with love for friends and a spirit of adventure for the mysteries of the year ahead.
The next day, I woke up and shaved my head, and my friends and I watched movies and ate popcorn and candy all day, then went out to the reservoir to see the "rooster tail" plume of water that was rushing out of the spillway to the dam from the torrential rains the week before.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)