3436 Midnight

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Bad decisions make good stories.

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I babysat the Nugget last night at my house while her Mommy went out and her very tired Daddy slept. (His mother had been visiting the past few days. She's high energy and natters constantly, so it's a bit of a strain. Overstimulating for Nugget, too. She left to drive back to NC in the afternoon.)

Nugget was overtired herself, and had some terrible complaint. She screamed. Maybe teething. Maybe bellyache. I'd never seen her so miserable before. She didn't want a bottle, she didn't want toys, she'd show brief interest in something new and then immediately start screaming again. I finally got her to sleep about 8:30 pm by massaging her back.

Mommy returned at about 11. We didn't wake the Nugget. She woke herself at about 11:50, screaming. I had wanted to turn the TV on a few minutes before midnight to see the ball (not because it's new year's but because Hercules had been at the assembly of the NYC ball last week, by invitation, and had talked about the lights), but instead we were dosing the Nugget with Colic Calm at the moment, and missed it.

Man, that stuff (the Colic Calm) is amazing! It worked in literally seconds. Nugget was not only not unhappy, she was smiling and ready to play. Daughter looked up and said, "What time is it?" I said "12:04." Daughter apologized for my missing the ball drop, and I said it's ok, at the stroke of midnight Nugget had smiled and reached for me.

That's even better.

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Somewhere my mother picked up the custom of eating sauerkraut on New Year's Day, for luck all year. In fact, she insisted we eat it because to not eat it guaranteed bad luck all year (well, those years she happened to remember and had sauerkraut in the cupboard, anyway).

For lunch today I had my favorite kielbasa, caraway and anise seed, onions, and thoroughly rinsed sauerkraut, all sauteed together in olive oil until brown.

Daughter thinks I'm nuts, but half of it is going over to their house as soon as they get back from their hike. And I'll stand there until she at least samples it.
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2726 Happy New Year

Friday, January 1, 2010

People do not do things for logical reasons.
People find logical reasons to do things they want,
and the more intelligent the people,
the better the reasons they come up with.
-- Harold Nickel, Mensa Bulletin, May 2000 --

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I did go out last night, but all day it was a tossup.

By noon yesterday, there was (were?) two inches of fluff in the driveway. Two inches is no problem getting up or down the drive. Three inches is difficult, possibly dangerous. Four inches is impossible. The snow had stopped, but more was expected during the night. I checked five different weather prediction sources, and the totals expected by this morning ranged from two to six inches.

So I called the plowman and paid $55 to have two lousy inches plowed. That way, maybe I'd be able to get up the drive at 2 am if three more fell. If it was four more, I could be in big trouble, since I can't leave the car on the road - I have to at least get it past the plow hump and into the driveway.

I was also very angry because the town plow hit my mailbox again, and this time they sprung the side away from the base, and now it won't close at all.

All very discouraging. But in the evening I got dressed anyway, and by damn I looked so good I didn't want to waste it, I'd hate myself if I did, so I went. I figured that if things got complicated, I'd figure it out later.

The party was in Connecticut, an 80 minute drive. It was sponsored by several Meetup singles' groups, at a fire hall, and the cost when I'd registered was only something like $45, which is really cheap for a New Year's Eve party, so I wasn't expecting much.

It was amazing! There were probably 160 people. The male/female distribution was good. The announcement had said "dressy casual, but formal is ok too." There were lots of sequins. I never saw so many skin-tight dresses all in one place! (Um, someone should tell women that when you have back rolls, skin tight is not a good choice.) And lots of pushed-up pouter pigeon breasts. Me, I was pretty well covered in my Assuit dress (the mid-priced soft one, with real silver), but still intriguing because I wore it over a spaghetti-strap long leotard.

The food was terrific: chicken in a beautiful mushroom sauce, tender roast beef carved on command, crab casserole in oyster shells, interesting breads, salad, green beans with pimento, and more. The bar was all free, and it wasn't just wine and beer. They had everything. I had one of my favorite sweet liquors, and they filled the glass to the top. The band was really good. The lead guitarist and singer was a red-headed kid that didn't look more than 16, but he was incredible. He had performed with and was a protege of Les Paul.

I sat at a table with four bawdy broads slightly younger than I, and a younger man. I enjoyed them all.

About 10:30 they did the bachelor auction (the auction was to benefit Ann's Place, a cancer support center). The guy I had my eye on wasn't there, which was disappointing, but there were about 10 others. They were going for like $25 to $75, it was sort of pitiful, so I bought two. I haven't decided whether I'll actually collect on the dates. I consider it a donation.

They had a bunch of other things for auction, too. They went at rock bottom prices because they had not been advertised, so no one had done the research or come prepared to bid on them. There were fancy watches, and jewelry. There were huge framed concert posters that went for maybe $50. The auctioneer was almost crying. "This is a PROOF! A PROOF of the famous poster that goes for $3,000! This is worth twice that!" Well, what's a proof?

I accidentally bought a Gibson Epiphone SG Special electric guitar, that had been signed by Les Paul on his 94th birthday, two months before he died, along with a really fancy soft case, and two photographs of Les Paul signing it. I haven't the faintest idea what I'm going to do with it. The red-headed kid played it after I bought it, and kissed it goodbye. Does anyone know the proper way to store it? Should I loosen the strings?

I probably ought to find a buyer for it. If I wait a few years, it might go for more, but knowing me, I might injure it between now and then.

[Later - I found something online: If storing for more than 4 months, release some but not all of the tension from the strings, and store it in a living-area closet, not an attic or basement.]

At 11:30ish it started to snow, heavily, big flakes. I started to worry, because I would be heading north. But the snow stopped with only a dusting.

At midnight I followed a tradition from my youth, and looked for the oldest guy in the place to kiss. The guy had to be nearing, if not over, ninety, a tiny guy with curly white hair, and I planted one on his cheek. Bad idea. He followed me around after that, kept kissing me on the cheek, and pressed his business card on me. (He's a medical doctor.)

Also after midnight, I finally danced with two of the bawdy broads, and I finally got some male attention. Too late, fellas. Yeah, I gots me some moves, but if that's all that interests you, that doesn't go far.

Got home a little after 2 am. No snow on the driveway.
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#454 Pity Party - Going It Alone

There was a set of questions going around journals some days or weeks back, one of which was something like "When was the last time you went to a movie alone, and what did you see?"

Most of those who answered the question were of the opinion that going to a movie alone was just too pitiful for words.

I go to movies alone all the time.

Last night, for example, "Pride and Prejudice" at the Upstate. Followed by dinner alone. With a book. Another Saturday night alone.

This Saturday was the worst yet. I am frankly jealous. I don't know how long I can do this.

My friends are all paired off, married, too old, don't drive at night, or are too far away to get together for something as trivial as a movie. I've gone to a few movies just lately with Roman, but when I have time with him, I'd rather we spent the time talking. I'd rather look at him than sit next to him staring at a flickering screen. So, I go to movies alone.

I don't think that's at all as pitiful as sitting in front of the TV, watching the new year's ball drop, alone. Now, THAT's pitiful.

With the exception of 1992 through 2000, when I was with Jay, that's how I've spent every other New Year's Eve of my entire life. With no one to kiss.

You'd think, hey, you had lots of boyfriends, and two previous husbands, what gives?

Well, in high school, I babysat every New Year's. In college, everyone else went home from Christmas through New Year's, so I was left alone in the dorm. When I was dating Ex#1, he worked holidays - more money.

Then after we got married, Ex#1 was away in the Army the whole time we were married. We had one New Year's Eve, but that was after he separated from the army, and I had decided I wanted a divorce. I wasn't strong enough to leave over his objections - I wanted him to agree, to want me to leave. So I didn't spend a lot of time at home. New Year's Eve, I got all dressed up and left the house without saying anything to him, and I went to a club where there was a big party. I didn't go in - I had no reservation - I just wrapped myself up in blankets and slept in the car in the parking lot until morning. Even that didn't faze him. A month later, I left anyway. (Eight months later, he remarried.)

I was married to Ex#2 for twelve years or more, but every New Year's Eve he was either passed out drunk by midnight, or had gone to bed early. Holidays depressed him. All holidays. There actually were a few New Year's when we were visiting his family, and he did stay awake and relatively sober, but he'd be out with the guys at midnight, shooting guns at the moon. THEN he'd pass out.

So, except for Jay, most of my life I've greeted the New Year alone. No one to kiss in the New Year.

You KNOW what this is leading up to.

I'm already anticipating much unhappiness in a month or so.

I don't know why I do stuff like this to myself.

Sniffle.

~~Silk