Just like the U2 song of my youth, New Year's day was still and peaceful. Except for the snow which continued to fall but made for a picture of loveliness and a visual clean slate to begin the New Year.
After days over the holidays spent dishing out Dayquil and matzo ball soup to the sickly husband, he finally felt a little better on New Year's Eve. So, we ventured out with a friend to a downtown Latin-themed hipster restaurant/bar where they play samba music and serve mojitos and over-priced tiny tapas.
It was fun at first, but I grew tired of the noise and chill sitting by the plate glass window after several hours. Waiting for midnight, I just kept wondering what the Bug was doing back home and wishing I was there with her, curled up with Craze on the sofa with a glass of something tasty and alcoholic, waiting for the ball to drop on TV and watching the snow fall outside. But instead, we waited for a countdown that never came until the establishment finally yelled "Happy New Year" at about 12:02 according to Craze's cell phone. Very anti-climatic.
We danced a little after midnight, but the dance floor was steamy and uncomfortable as over-dressed people jostled for space. The floor was slippery and sticky presumably from a multitude of spilled exotic cocktails.
It just wasn't my thing and, having settled up the bill, I was really counting the moments until I could gracefully let our friend know that it was time for us to go. Just about that time, most of the electricity went out in the place. The lights went dark and the emergency lighting kicked in and the music stopped. A hush fell over the festive crowd as everyone looked around waiting for things to kick back into gear. Moments ticked by and nothing happened. We waited about ten minutes until I finally took this as my perfect out-clue. It really was time to go.
Arriving home to about four inches of freshly-fallen snow, we let the Bug outside and she did her crazy, body-slamming dance of pure "welcome home" exhilaration. She then proceeded to run around attacking the snow in the backyard as if it was some new kind of agility course like she likes to do.
The following morning I watched the Rose Parade, chatted with my aunt and uncle in England and read magazines in my jammies until well into the afternoon. And in the evening I made the most delicious, spicy curry, finally using up the last of the Christmas turkey.
All in all, the first day of 2008 was uneventful and cozy and really quite a good way to start the New Year. Better still because there was nary a mojito or a caipirinia anywhere in site.
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