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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