Gah. What a day. Not a hard day particularly. Not really an exhausting day. Just a day. A wet, gray sad sack of day. A day in which I would have been much happier curled up on the couch beneath the afghan sipping steaming cups of herbal tea and reading magazines and flipping through the channels.

But, work it was and there everything seemed to conspire against me.
Finally, about three p.m. I made it out of the office to run a few errands only to have to deal with rude, idiot drivers.

Yes that was me you saw screaming in her car at the intersection of Alhambra and P streets.

There was one thing that made me laugh today – this link sent by Rachel in NYC. I wont tell you what it is because the surprise of it was half the fun. Oh, and you have to watch the whole thing because it just gets better the longer it runs. And if you’re not a fan of one of the two elements involved? Well, sorry…but the combination of such made me feel wonderfully good-humored for about five minutes.

Now I am home alone and slowly getting over it all. I’ve got an Azure Ray CD on – one that I’d been keeping around for months, meaning to listen, to absorb. I’m liking it quite nicely.

My solo evenings are like little treasures to me. They remind me of when I lived alone and always had the house to myself and could dance around and be goofy or sulk and be moody or sing at the top of my lungs or talk to myself or hold entire conversations with the cat or sleep with the window open even when it's freezing because I like the fresh air or make gigantic messes that didn't need to be cleaned up until I felt like addressing the situation.

Of course, living alone does have its drawbacks and certainly, living with someone has great benefits of all kinds - but sometimes I miss those days and nights.

Tonight, I’ve done mundane yet oddly soothing things such as laundry and ironing and folding. I’ve eaten my Trader Joe’s French Onion soup and toasted soy cheese sandwich.

I’ve written e-mails and felt slightly heartened by communicating in almost-real time with a friend who’s far away.

I've let the CD player stop and just listened to the tapping of fingers on a keyboard and the tinny rattle of the dryer. I've sat and stared at my cat and wondered at the amount of sleep she puts away. I've turned on every light on the house and left it that way for awhile because, damn it, I like the light.

Tonight has been a satisfying antidote to its corresponding day. And it's a good way to kick off the next weekend because it's going to be a long one with many obligations to which I'm not particularly looking forward. Work things. School things. Thing things.

I think I'm going to go light my cinnamon candle and read a (non-school) book and drift off to sleep early. Alone.

Your personal P.C. jesus - the inventor of the CtrlAltDelete code - is retiring from IBM this week.

Because nothing says Wednesday like the Friday Five:


At this moment, what is your favorite...

1. ...song?
Probably the Fiery Furnaces' "I'm Gonna Run".

2. ...food?
Right now I can't get enough of this Trader Joe French Onion soup that you can find in the frozen food section. It's vegetarian cheesy goodness and beyond perfect on a cold and/or rainy night. I like to eat it with a toasted (soy) cheese sandwich. It makes me feel like a kid but in a slightly more sophisticated way.

3. ...tv show?
I wish they would just show all of the America's Next Top Model episodes in a row so I can see which one of those egotistical bitches comes out on top.

4. ...scent?
Cinnamon. I just bought this cinnamon-scented candle from the Co-Op. I picked it up because it came in a sparkly votive holder and ended up taking it home because of its wonderfully spicy scent. I burned it last night while I was reading and it helped to soothe my very frazzled nerves.

5. ...quote?
"Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd." -- Voltaire

This rocks! Keisha Castle-Hughes was nominated for an Oscar for her performance in Whale Rider - one of my favorite films last year. Johnny Depp too for his turn in Pirates of the Caribbean. But hello, where is American Splendor besides in the Best Screenplay -adaptation category? Paul Giamatti and Hope Davis were amazing in that film. Anyway, more Oscar nominations here.
Saturday night we watched The Cooler - not an Oscar worthy film at all - even though Alec Baldwin did score a nomination for his role as the casino manager. Still, even though the film was really weak in most respects (bad storyline, poor chacterization, implausible plot devices, etc), I absolutely love William H. Macy and would pay to watch him read the yellow pages if that was his latest cinematic project. That said it's definitely a rental - don't waste your money in the theater.

Some films I want to see before the Oscars:

• The House of Sand and Fog


• Cold Mountain


• Osama (not nominated, which from what I've heard about and seen of this film is, apparantly, a travesty)


• Monster


• Mystic River


• The Triplets of Belleville


• In America


• Thirteen

Lots to catch up on - I'll be lucky if I even see half of these before Feb. 29th. I'm still catching up on last year's nominees.

I didn't end up making the black bean soup but I did make this insanely easy veggie quiche last night - a feat that made me feel wildly accomplished but didn't wear me out.

2 cups liquid egg substitute or 8 whole eggs
1 package frozen broccoli (16 oz.)
3/4 cup shredded mozzerella cheese.
3/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese
1/2 cup chopped green onions
2 yellow crookneck squashes, chopped
A couple shots of Tabasco or other hot pepper sauce, if desired, to taste.
Salt and pepper to taste.

You can also experiment and add other chopped veggies - mushrooms, zuchinni, etc. Or, substitue spinach for the broccoli.

Heat oven to 400F.


Mix the broccoli, egg substitute, cheese, veggies, hot pepper sauce, salt in a bowl.

Pour mixture into a greased 9x11 loaf pan.

Bake at 350F for one hour. Test for done-ness; the quiche is done when a knife inserted in the middle comes out clean. May need to cook another half hour to 45 minutes. Yes it takes a long time - but it's worth it.
Slice and serve. I like it w/ veggie sausage.
Depending on if you use an egg substitute and use reduced fat cheese it's low cholesterol, low calorie, low carb and maybe even low-fat.

So that's what we ate last night for dinner. Saturday, instead of cooking, we made a trip to Pancake Circus. When we got there I realized it had probably been at least four or five years since the last time we'd eaten there.
And the burning question is why?
Why did we stay away so long?
With its cozy, oversized vinyl booths and laminated wood tables (featuring ads for varous local businesses - some of which are no longer open), it's like stepping back in time when you step inside the Pancake Circus.
And, where else can you get tasty pancakes on the super-cheap ($3.99 for four plus a side of eggs), faux Winnie-the-Pooh decorations and ultra-friendly waitresses who are always on the quick to top off your cawfee.
Love it. Love it. Love it.
Pancake Circus, I promise thee, I will not stay away so long next time.

A few of my favorite photos from the Monterey trip - all taken at the aquarium. The first photo is of sardines - they're in this round tank that's centered in one of the walkways and the effect in person is just amazing. Don't ask me what those creatures are in the second photo - I can't remember the name but they're very hypnotic - as are the blue fish in the bottom right photo. As for the fish in the bottom left photo - he was in a large room-sized tank that also had shark and a million other types of sea creatures. I just really liked his attitude.

Last night's Baby Grand show was really fun and Guphy got the free drink - thanks for outing yourself.

It's almost 1 p.m. and I'm still trying to decide how I want to spend my day. Should I clean? The house really needs it. Study/write? I already have a lot to do. Nurse the fledgling cold that I've caught from Cory?

I'll probably attempt a combination of all three, plus I might get in some cooking. I've been craving black bean soup lately so I think it's time to break out my favorite recipe and give it a whirl. But first - getting dressed would be a good start.

Just yesterday I was looking at an issue of The New Yorker that featured a Richard Avedon photo and for some reason I was wondering about when he would die....and then, lo and behold a different iconic fashion photographer, Helmut Newton is killed in a car crash today. (Via CNN).
OK, I'm going to try to not wonder about people dying anymore.

Captain Kangaroo, RIP.

There was a Democratic debate on last night but I was too busy catching up on my America's Next Top Models episodes and missed out on a chance to a) become better informed and b) see if Howard Dean really has lost it. If you want to hear a collection of remixes of the now-infamous Howard Dean scream then visit the Dean Goes Nuts site (via The Usual Suspects).

Anyway, as a result of my pop culture gorging last night I can now not get the word 'coochie' out of my head.
Damn.

Tonight is a Baby Grand show at the Blue Lamp - if you're in the area, please come down. Cory's sick with a cold and could use some moral support. The Miles and Safari are also on the bill. I think it's $5 and starts at 9 p.m. ANNNDDD if you are the first person to mention this post to me you will a) make me very happy because it means somebody is reading and b)I will buy you a drink.

OK, done with my shilling duties.

We were hoping to go to the SF Moma tomorrow to finally see the Diane Arbus exhibit (Question - is it pronounced DEE-ann or DYE-ann - the NY Times says the former and everyone else says the latter) - but with Cory not feeling well that might not happen this weekend.

Maybe next weekend. I hope so because it closes on Feb. 8 and I need some culture to act as buffer between all my reality TV marathons. Between that and the recent six-week break from school I swear I can feel my brain starting to turn to mush. No wonder it hurt so much to even pick up my Gertrude Stein book last night.

Anderson Cooper, writing in the new issue of Details magazine on the Debate Club: What's it like to be one man juggling a roomful of really desperate candidate, discusses the politics of theater and why "it doesn't matter if a candidate doesn't have a Carol Moseley Braun's chance in hell of getting the nomination, everyone has to get equal time."

Wesley Clark supporter Michael Moore on why a Howard Dean supporter in Iowa should feel good about her efforts:

As one who does not support Dean, I would like to say this to you: DON'T GIVE UP. You have done an incredible thing. You inspired an entire nation to stand up to George W. Bush. Your impact on this election will be felt for years to come. Every bit of energy you put into Dr. Dean's candidacy was -- and is -- worth it. He took on Bush when others wouldn't. He put corporate America on notice that he is coming after them. And he called the Democrats out for what they truly are: a bunch of spineless, wishy-washy appeasers who have sold out the working people of America. Everyone in every campaign owes you and your candidate a huge debt of thanks.
Though I am backing Clark because I personally prefer his manner and his stands on everything from jailing polluters to taxing the rich (not to mention his electability), the worst thing that could happen now would be for the Dean revolution to come to an end. If you have backed or worked for Dean, you must understand the remarkable things you have done and what you have accomplished.

Dean still gets on my nerves, he's too much of a posing yuppie, too much of an affluent, soft-palmed, white-teethed rich guy for my comfort - as Cory has pointed out that whole Let's roll up our sleeves and get down to work posturing is really getting to be a bit much. But, Moore's got a point and it could turn out to be a very interesting election so whatever it takes to rock the boat, so be it.

Damn. Once again I apparantly missed seeing Ah-nold at the gym by only five minutes. I really wanted to see him in person just to figure out once and for all how short he really is. (Oh, and the only reason I spell it that annoying way is so that there's no mistake as to which Arnold I'm talking about. That and just to annoy you.)

Anyway, we are back from Monterey. We did vacation-y things. The weather was great, the whales were amazing and I only got a little seasick. In addition to being tourists we also indulged in one of my favorite holiday pastimes - watching inordinate amounts of headline news and bad TV. This time out the bad TV arrived courtesy the Home Shopping Network.

In my defense, re: Home Shopping Network - I was oddly drawn in and thoroughly creeped out by the sight of a boozy, Norma Desmond-esque Suzanne Somers hawking her Somersize line of clothing, jewelry, skincare and food. I just couldn't take my eyes off of her. The thing is, for someone who's trying to sell fitness, health and diet products (to hear Suzanne tell it, her Somersize program is the original low-carb diet), she looked rather round. In fact she seemed to be hiding behind various layers of clothes and plants like actresses do when they're trying to cover up a pregnancy on TV or like Kirstie Alley in those godawful Pier One commercials.

Suzanne also talked a lot about nothing (and usually made no sense whatsoever) and seemed to be highly annoying the poor woman assigned to "assist" her during the infomercials. You could just taste the seething frustration as it seeped out of this schlep's mouth as she fought the urge to tell Chrissie Snow to shut her trap.

Anyhoo, enough about Suzanne. I may post a few Monterey pictures later. Then again, maybe not. School starts tomorrow and if history, as they say, repeats itself, it should kick off with a time-crunching, bone-crushing bang.

Let the fun begin.

Probably no updates for at least the next four days. Tomorrow Cory & I are going out of town to Monterey for a long-awaited, much-needed mini-vacation that will commemorate the sixth anniversary of our first date.
Some people look at me funny when I tell them we (still) celebrate this anniversary. I don't know what's so strange about such a thing. If it hadn't been for that 8 p .m. showing of Midnight Cowboy at The Crest Theatre followed by seeing Grub Dog at the G Street Pub in Davis - well we certainly wouldn't be where we are today.

And so this weekend will be just us. It will be quiet and relaxing. It will be cold walks on the beach and aquariums and cute cottages and food and basketball games and maybe even whale-watching.

Before that commences, however, we must first trek down to Oakland so that I can check in at school for the new semester which starts next week. I am so not ready for this but at least I have a nice long weekend during which I can just enjoy not being ready.

So, until then ...

Speaking of Donald Trump's new show - Kim had to call me last Thursday night just to make me turn on the TV so that I could tell her what was wrong with the gazillionaire's hair.
Awful Plastic Surgery makes its own guess on the issue.

Spaulding Gray is missing and they haven't officially ruled that Elliot Smith's death was a suicide (via The Smoking Gun).
What other weirdness lurks?

I don't know what it is - especially considering that I was never a Melrose Place or Party of Five fan (although I did watch Beverly Hills 90210 for a short time) - but I have this sudden hankering to watch The O.C. I think it's partly because the show features Adam Brody - a.ka. Lane's cute boyfriend on The Gilmore Girls - but I think it might also be due to the fact that I'm really craving some good trashy TV. It's winter, I need comfort viewing.

Sure, the next installment of America's Next Top Model starts tonight. Sure there's the new Donald Trump show. But I need more. Anyway, is it a coincidence that Glorious Noise has a piece on why The O.C. is the new show to watch? Who knows, but this is their assessment of the series:

Its underlying messages about the collective flaws of humanity rich and poor are heartening. But when Kirsten's foxy hippie sister shows up, and Ryan's doe-eyed girlfriend Marissa (Mischa Barton) starts a sashay with a glowering goblin of a fellow therapy patient, and our man Seth Cohen (Adam Brody) draws on Ryan's tough-ass Chino chi to make moves on his dream girl Summer (Rachel Bilson), only to get more than his snarky Death Cab for Cutie-listening, PS2-playing ass bargained for when impossibly cool and cute new girl Anna (Samaire Armstrong) wants some Seth in her life, too – that's when we all sit up, take notice, and start talking about a TV show like we haven't seen a real one – a real good one – since Sydney got killed on her wedding day.

Maybe that's just it. Maybe I just want to be part of the in crowd. In any case, I've got some watchin' to do.

Last night at Old Ironsides I got into a discussion with an acquaintance - a really nice friend of a friend - about the pros and cons of living in San Francisco versus living in Sacramento. He and his girlfriend live in SF - for professional reasons - but often come up to Sac for the weekend.

I can just let my hair down here, you don?t have to worry about people who are pretentious, he told me. If it wasn't easier for our jobs to be in San Francisco, then we would probably live here.

And it's true - although believe me, there are pretentious people in this town - it seems more relaxed here, more down-to-earth, more like living and less performing.

I've thought about moving to the Bay Area - for "professional reasons" - but when I have these thoughts, I remember what I said when I moved back from New York: I can be a writer anywhere. And I can.

It's just probably easier being a published writer in a city such as NYC or SF.

San Francisco, Oakland and Berkeley have great literary/alternative publishing communities and there are definitely times that I think it would serve me better to live closer to them.

But then again, isn't that why God created e-mail and the Internet? Certainly one does not have to live in the hub to be served or contribute to the hub.

Certainly one does not even have to be a part of the hub in order to be quote-unquote successful.

Right?

I admit there's a part of me that gets defensive when I think about Sacramento -the little town that really wanted to do something- some sort of twisted reversal on the old if I can make it here I can make it anywhere credo.

But I do dream of moving elsewhere. Someplace Bigger! Better! Faster!

And then sometimes I dream about creating or being a part of a Sacramento-sized version of that Bigger! Better! Faster! You know, work with other writers. Start a literary journal. Create something new. Certainly this town could use its own version of an 826 Valencia or a Kitchen Sink magazine.

Of course, that's a lot of work and I don't know to whom I should talk or where to start.

I'm torn. When I'm driving down the streets near my neighborhood, in love with the old houses and leafy trees and quiet charm, then I'm home. When I'm hanging out with longtime friends, then I'm home. When I can drive around in circles and not be lost, then I'm home.

When I'm thinking about Things That Could Be - then I don?t know where I belong.

There's something to be said for living across the street from a place of business that has frequent UPS deliveries. For the second time in the last year or so, I've been able to put this to good use. Yesterday I wanted to return the item sent by this retailer from hell - an excursion that required tracking down a local UPS shipper. I tried stopping by one yesterday but the place I'd been to before was no longer there so I had to go on the Internet and find a new location. The place closed before I got off work, however, which meant it would have to wait until today. But then, lo and behold, there I am getting out of my car last night at 6 p.m. and there is the UPS guy making a late delivery and there I am, pulling the big box out of my car to bring back into the house and there is the guy in brown walking back to his truck - parked down the street from our house - and then our paths crossed and it was like one of those magical movie moments where butterflies float and bluebirds sing and everything is dreamy and romantic as he smiled, took the package from my weary hands and drove off into the dusky evening.

I've decided that 2004 is going to be a good year - the above just being one tiny sign of such. Although the first week of the year has already had quite a few strange moments, it's also had some good ones. Some good news, some nice moments, some promising ideas, some optimistic plans.

Now hopefully I have not just jinxed everything to all hell by declaring my hope for the new year.

Ah, it seems like just yesterday that Ryan Adams was still small-town enough to diss Cory & I at a Harlow's show. These days he's rock star enough to have bigger fish to fry with Jim DeRogatis ... via Sound Opinions, by way of Coolfer.
(To be fair, Ryan's been nice everytime I've talked to him on the phone, but that's not my point here.)

Consensus now seems to be that the news of Siouxsie's death is being greatly exaggerated. People are stupid.

No official news story link yet - or confirmation that it's true, but word is that, last night, Siouxsie of Siouxsie & the Banshees died in her sleep. If it's true, then what a bummer ...the first rock'n'roll death of the new year.

I'm feeling a little bit better tonight, which is a relief since I only have two weeks left of my life until school and the Gertrude Stein-a-thon begin in earnest. To celebrate feeling better I decided to cook dinner -a baked eggplant pasta thingie, as I like to call it. Hopefully it turns out OK.

Speaking of the Stein-a-thon, yesterday the One Good Thing blog detailed a list of all the books she bought last year and never read - as well as all the books she bought in the last 5, 10, 15 and 20 years and also never read (via Bookslut).

So, because I like taking someone else's good idea and running with it - and because I also wanted to depress myself and see how much money I spent in 2003 on unread books, I decided to make my own list.

However I refuse to go back any further than a year because that would be just plain embarrassing.

I'm not sure if I can remember all the books I bought last year and hardly touched again - but here it goes, in no particular order:

(Oh, and I'm definitely not linking to any of these because I'm too damn lazy)

• Music for Torching - A.M. Homes


• Things You Should Know - A.M. Homes


• Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer


• Lullaby - Chuck Palahniuk


• Choke - Chuck Palaniuk


• Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides


• Orlando - Virginia Woolf


• A Writer's Diary - Virginia Woolf


• Why Girls are Weird - Pamela Ribon (I tried, but it never really drew me in)


• Bel Canto - Ann Patchett (I also tried to read this one but didn't get very far)


• Charity - Mark Richard


• Cathedral - Raymond Carver

So, those are the 12 that I can remember anyway. I did, however, manage to read every issue of Entertainment Weekly not to mention nearly every issue of about half a dozen other magazines. Of course, I do have a nice hefty stack of Texas Monthly and New Yorker issues collecting dust - but I did give up the ghost on Vanity Fair - at least until I'm done with school.

In my defense, last year I read - on average - about 10 books per semester (covering three semesters) ...so maybe if I hadn't been consumed with all those class requirements I would have actually read some of these books.

Maybe.

To say that it was goddamned freezing this morning would a) be an understatement, b) an insult to those who live in places that are really and truly and freezing, c) all of the above.

I'll take "C" for $1,000 Alex.

The ice on my car was so thick this morning that I could have ice-skated on it and done no damage to the paint. Swear to God. The guy at the gas station marveled at how the small oval that I cleared away on my windshield was big enough for me to safely see through.

Hey, it was the best I could do with that ice at 7:50 on a morning when I left my gloves inside and was too hurried to run back in and get them.

Later this evening as we watched the evening news - in between reports of letter bombs and mad cow disease and Britney's wedding - I wondered to Cory if there was a correlation between what a hot, long summer we had and this relatively brutal (by Sacramento standards anyway) winter.

Cory didn't seem to think we'd had a particularly hot summer - long, yes, but super-hot? No.

I remember it differently; for one thing, any summer that stretches to the end of October must have extraordinarily hot. I also seem to remember thinking that it was the worst one we'd had since moving into our place together.

(And I really can't believe we've been here together for five-and-half-years now....)

But maybe I'm just really getting old and, like my grandparents tend to do, am confusing seasons and years and eras and people and places and things.

Maybe...but still...just because we didn't have to move the mattress out into the front room this year to sleep beneath the window cooler, doesn't mean it wasn't a doozy. (After all, the new window fan Cory bought for the bedroom really does the trick.).
In any case, this cold is now wreaking havoc with my head. My nose is runny, ears are completely clogged up and I'm living in fear of developing another case of vertigo like the one I had way back in the winter of 2002 - there's something very unsettling about being unable to sit up in bed because your head is so stuffed up that your entire sense of equilibrium is shot to utter hell.

But, what can I do other than take more DayQuil and try to sleep (which, frustratingly has been very difficult - it seems like the worse I feel the harder it is to sleep...even last night after imbibing some run and geeking out to the first Lord of the Rings film - yes, we're finally catching up on that pop culture phenomenon. I tossed and turned all night). I didn't want to start off 2004 by calling in sick to work - that and I had an assignment due by 3 p.m.

But, the second it feels as if my head is going to snap off of my neck, that's it, back in bed until everything's once again balanced.

Britney Spears says she wasn't drunk when she oops, got married (via the Washington Post, which of course, requires free registration).
She should hold fast to any plausible excuse that'll stick...Frankly, I'd take drunken stupidity over flat-out stupidity any day, but I'm old-fashioned like that.

It's absolutely freezing in this house. And no, we're not martyrs - we're using the heater. But we don't keep it cranked and so it cycles on and off and during those "off" times we're sitting around feeling like icicles and the cats paw at the blankets we keep draped over our laps and try to siphon off what little body heat we emit.

It certainly doesn't help when you have a cold, but whatever, I'm as tired of talking about my cold as I am of sneezing.

Today is Casey Kasem's last day as host for America's Top 40 (via the NY Times - requires free registration) and yeah, I'm kind of misty-eyed about the whole thing because I grew up on the mellifluous tones of Kasem's voice and the hopes that someday someone somewhere would send me a long distance dedication. That never happened of course and I, like millions of others, eventually moved on to MTV, but still today, a moment of silence please for the last great DJ.

OK, that's all I can muster for today. It's merely hours before I must return to work after a five day break and I've need to get in as much slacking as possible before then. Back to the couch.

The final crush of 2003 seems to have caught up with me in the form of a cold. Combine a tired, stressed-out immune system with repeated exposure to other people's various illnesses and, well, there you go: Achoo.

It started yesterday with the scratchy throat and headache and progressed to a fever pitch (literally) before cooling back down into a manic sneezing fit that finally eased enough so that I could rest on the couch watching Sunday in New York with Cory, oohing and ahhing over the fabulous sets and Jane Fonda's to-die-for outfits. I couldn't make it through the entire film though and went to bed early which in turn ended up being a farce because the combination of Dayquil and an earlier two hour nap left me tossing and turning in a very tired and headachey sort of way.

Do you know how it is when you're sick and you just feel very out of sorts? That's how I felt all night. Finally, at six a.m. I had to move back out to the couch where I did manage to get a few hours of solid sleep with my cat curled in beside me, nestled under the covers.

Now, with the help of some more Dayquil, I have a little bit of energy and I've managed to cook a vegetable quiche and am in the process of baking some banana bread. Of course it was probably very foolish of me to use my last tendrils of energy for these activities because I have some work that needs to be done and suddenly a nap is sounding very, very good.

But the smell of banana bread is good too and I'm sure a few more bits of energy will emerge eventually - after another nap and another dose of Dayquil is my guess.

Mostly I'm just glad that there's no real reason for me to leave the house today. January days like that are good.

The New Year's Eve show at Old I was lots of fun once I got into the spirit of things. It was hard getting myself out of the house, but I dug my faux leather/fur coat out of the closet, put on some sparkly makeup and hit the town. Happily, the club was busy but not in that crazy, drunken way. Sure, there were a few of those people out - the people who only come out once or twice a year and thus are sadly lacking in nightclub ettiquette (Rule number one: say excuse me when you jab your sharp elbow into my side. Rule number two: do not plant your seven-foot-tall self right in front of my five-foot six-inch self - especially when there is plenty of space elsewhere. Rule number three: it is not OK to yell obnoxiously at the band during its entire set. This is called heckling.)

At the countdown to midnight we shared in a new-to-us tradition that Andrea taught us: in Spain it is customary to count down the last 12 seconds of the year by eating a grape for each second. Andrea isn't sure where this tradition comes from but her family does it every year. So, thousands of miles away from her family this New Year's Eve, she brought Spain with her in the form of several little baggies filled with green grapes.

As the countdown began, the four of us - she and I, Mark and Cory - modified the tradition a bit and popped a grape a second during the last six seconds of 2003. It's actually harder than it sounds and at 00:00:00 1/01/2004, with a mouthful of grapes, I shared a very grapey kiss with Cory. It's a wonder neither of us choked on our stash of California green seedless.

I was the designated driver of sorts and we made it home safely by about 2:30 a.m. When I awoke the next morning about 11:30 a.m., the house was gray and cold. It was raining outside - but not too blustery - and I realized the power was out - which meant no coffee. That grim tragedy aside, the quiet seemed like an extra wonderful way to greet the new year. Cory and I both moved out on to the couch in the front room and, with our cat Sophie between us, listened to the rain. After a while, the power came back on and we watched a little TV - but then I became sleepy again and fell asleep - only to wake up and find the power out once more and Cory and the cat crashed out beside me.

We stayed like that, sleeping on and off as the power continued to flicker and die, until about 3 p.m.

The sleepy mood of the day changed with a phone call from a friend - her cat was sick, very sick and she asked if I could go with her to the vet, in case of the worst.

A several hundred dollar excursion later we learned that the 16-year-old sweetheart of a cat was probably suffering from either diabetes or kidney failure. I hoped for diabetes - something that is managable with twice-daily insulin injections. The vet said she'd call back in a few hours with the results and to pass the time we picked up Cory and made our way to Zelda's pizza.

I hadn't been to Zelda's in a really long time and, seduced by the thick crust and hot, gooey layers of cheese, I was moved to declare it our new New Year's Day tradition.

Sitting there with one of my best friends and my husband, I felt like this was exactly how I wanted each new year to start from here on out - minus the sick cat, of course. I want grapes at midnight and quiet new mornings and evenings with good friends and food. I want a new year that is ushered in with goofy smiles and laughing and kisses and peaceful naps and sharing in-jokes and the most amazing pizza with a handful of people who mean the most to me.

And the good news - if illness can be good news - is that it is diabetes and although the kitty was in serious diabetes crisis when we took him to the vet, he would probably be OK. There is, of course, no guarantee for anything, but we hope that at best, there are few more years of life left for him.

Or, at the very least, several more months' worth of warm laps and smelly tuna. That's all for which we can ask.

At the dawn of 2004, I'm willing to start with the little things.