Well, it happened. I missed two days of posting. Interestingly, those were the two days that warranted special attention - sentimental, retrospective and and poignant for the last day of last year; collected, focused, and energetic for the first day of the new year. Insert appropriate sentiments here.

We flew back home from our week-long vacation on Friday, arriving in Austin without a hitch at 11 p.m. As we descended into the city, we watched fireworks glitter across the skyline below us from the window of the plane. After a small argument as we departed the aircraft (the Zachbraff covenant had expired, you see) about how to celebrate the arrival of the new year, Brad kindly gave into my wish to celebrate the ball drop with friends instead of with our cats. We got our luggage, found our car and cut off my left arm for parking payment, and drove to our friendly neighborhood gay bar, where our fabulous friends were celebrating.

Brad didn't want to go at all. I have to say that here, because I was really, REALLY insistent that we drive directly to the bar with our luggage in the trunk to get there just before midnight, and he really, REALLY didn't want to go. First of all - hi, we had just spent half a day on a plane. Second, Brad had to work at 9 a.m. Third, we hadn't seen our house or cats for a week, and fourth - the cover for the club was $10 each. BUT IT WAS NEW YEARS EVE, people, so exceptions had to be made for all of the above, right? My thoughts exactly.

In the car, I called Quis at approximately 11:41 to as her to get us drinks at the bar so that we would have something to toast with when the clock struck 12. We pulled into the parking lot at 11:49, arrived at the door of the club at 11:50, waited in line and paid the $20 total cover at 11:52, pushed our way through the masses of drunk people until we spotted our friends from the stairs at 11:54, and finally made it down the stairs, past the drunks, and to the group at 11:56. Quis and Anita were standing at the bar, still waiting to order our drinks, in the same spots where they had apparently been standing waiting to order since I placed the call fifteen minutes before. ARRGH. I took their place and watched as the bartender (who was wearing only boxer briefs and tennis shoes) ran back and forth between customers with no respect for order, and then attempted to hail him down by yelling "DUDE." Note to self: shiny, sweaty, underwear-clad gay bartenders do not respond to the yelling of "DUDE." Finally, as the MC of the night was counting down from twenty to 1, the bartender looked at me and said, "Hold on just a second, sweetheart," and ran over to pour champagne for the bartenders and waitstaff to toast with. I have never been so miffed - and yes, miffed is the only description appropriate here. The clock struck midnight, balloons rained down from the ceiling, and there we were - Quis, Brad, and I, standing at the bar with WTF looks on our faces. Quis shrugged her shoulders and said, "Um, happy new year?" and I said something that the FCC would definitely censor, and probably even wash my mouth out with soap afterwards for good measure.

About two minutes after the New Year began, the sweaty bartender finally made us two drinks, and Brad and I finally toasted. We downed our drinks, hugged our friends, hung out for about seven minutes, and then I looked at Brad and said, "Let's get out of here." I proceeded to elbow my way out of the bar (my general strategy when dealing with drunken crowds at bars after 12 a.m. ESPECIALLY on New Years Eve is to barrel through with no regard for anyone in my way, which apparently did not sit well with several bystanders, but Brad had my back, and I had no regrets), and we were on our way home, $30 poorer, by 12:15 a.m. In the car, Brad and I analyzed the implications of our kickoff to the year 2005, and determined that it could only mean one thing: a sweaty gay guy wearing only underwear and Nikes will likely disappoint us at some point in the next twelve months. PERFECT.

And, to Brad's credit, he never once said "I told you so," even though he had every reason to. What a catch.

Yesterday, to really get the year off on the right foot, I did nothing but sleep and watch DVDs. And I mean NOTHING else. Oh wait, I also ate pizza. Really though, there's nothing like three episodes of Six Feet Under and the first Lord of the Rings to help a girl recover from a vacation.

Today, Brad and I had big, big plans - shopping with our Christmas money, cleaning the house, and switching our bedroom and office from one room to the other. We accomplished the shopping part. I came home with a sewing machine, which I am REALLY EXCITED about and also VERY CONFUSED BY. Brad got lots of books on recording and electronics. I vacuumed the house like a madwoman, using the new vacuum we got for Christmas from Brad's dad and Katie - which I am in love with, by the way. Never thought I would love a vacuum, but it's my new best friend. It has this cool attachment that is like a little tiny vacuum with a long, long hose, and it's perfect for cleaning behind the couch and sucking up all the stray cat hair around the house. Thrilling, I know.

With all that said, I am officially giving myself until next weekend to formulate my 2005 Life Plan. Somehow, it will involve lots of sewing, writing, and getting rich. I swear it.

Lucy loves you |