Happy New Year

After work, I went to the mall and set sights on a plunge-V-neck, calf-length turquoise number that complimented my already-had pair of violet faux-alligator heels perfectly. Steven and I went out to dinner with my housemates - a five-minute walk from home at most - after which we headed home to chill out and do a whole lot of nothing.

A few New Year's Eves ago I was out an about in Hollywood. There was Jesus freak on a bicycle and my cell phone battery was near-death. I'd had a pretty lackluster day, and apparently the forecast had called for rain. Of course I was under-dressed, somewhere on Sunset and Ivar. This was before the Red Line, so it was pretty miserable in thinking how I'd be making it back home. The night ended well, but I learned that ringing in the new year doesn't mean being in the heart of it all; it's being where your heart wants you to be. Not as deep as it sounds, really. This year I wanted to be at home, so there I sat in my beautiful dress, with the ones most closest to me. And as we all cringed with severe empathy at Dick Clark's face (it must've been superimposed, either that or it was a kabuki mask) as the clock struck twelve, I knew there was no place I'd rather have been.

The new year so far has been pretty satisfying: I've a couple of pies in the oven, and the only place I've been today was to Santa Monica, for pizza at Bravo. Not bad considering 2009 is only a little over sixteen hours along.