Hello, 2012, you sexy beast. This must surely be the best year ever -- my first books will come out, there will be a glorious Olympic Games in London, and everyone will spend the entire year looking forward to the Mayan apocalypse. Really, if ever a year was designed just for me, this may be it.
This is also the start of my ninth year of blogging; I will ominously warn you that the blog may not last forever, since I hope to become an increasingly public figure in the writing sphere, and so this blog will either have to go on lockdown, or I will have to change the focus and stop blogging about what I do every day in case I get a stalker who could easily use my blog to track my movement patterns. I don't want to lock it down or stop it, but if I decide I have to, I'll give you plenty of warning so we can all mourn together.
sssanyway, today was a lovely start to the new year. It was also a v. spinny start to the new year; I woke up with hangover-induced spins, which really didn't go away all morning, which was unfortunate since I was cooking brunch for seven. I got out of bed around 8:30, showered, hung out with Claudia (aka Santy Claude, aka Claud the Fraud) and Terry, and then started cooking. Claude helped me tremendously, essentially acting as sous chef; she set the table and cut up the potatoes/peppers/onions for homefries, which saved my trembly hands from causing a catastrophic kitchen emergency. She also discovered that every cocktail she made for us last night was inadvertently a double since I guessed wrong on how much alcohol the jigger held, which explains why I was blind drunk off two and a half champagne cocktails and some extra champagne on top of it.
I made an awesome (if I do say so myself) egg casserole/frittata with spinach, leeks, cottage cheese, and goat cheese, as well as home fries, bacon, ambrosia, and chocolate chip scones (gluten free, natch). The ambrosia and scones were done last night, and today's tasks weren't particularly difficult -- a good thing, since whisking fourteen eggs made me feel dizzy because the whisk was rotating at a different speed than the room. Ugh. But I was able to put on a good front for my guests; I was in a great mood, despite my hangover, and so once I was sitting down and somewhat stable, it was easy to be enthusiastic rather than wretched.
Terry and Claude were already here, obvi, but Chandlord, Katrina, John, and Jess all came over too, and we enjoyed a delightful couple of hours together. Many jokes were told and many stories were shared, all of which warmed my heart and reminded me how much I like my friends, even if they did call out the accent that I apparently always come back with after spending time in Iowa (it's apparently subtle, and it disappears within a few days, but if it does exist, I'm sure it's in full force right now since I've spent four of the last six weeks at home). Of course, all good things come to an end, and so when everyone else was gone, Claude helped me clean up and load the dishwasher before Terry and I dropped her off at the BART station. I then spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out, calling my parents, contemplating my book, talking to Terry, etc.
And that's really how the rest of the day went as well. When it was suppertime, I cooked up another package of bacon and some chicken breasts, and Terry and I made a Cobb salad, which wasn't quite as good as Joanie's but was decent enough to satisfy. Then we watched some tv, including this show called "Leverage" that I've never seen but would probably love, and then I came upstairs and wrote in my journal (which is one of my 2012 goals). And now I really must sleep; I have to go down to Palo Alto tomorrow, and I want to write before I go, so wish me luck. Goodnight, and happy new year!
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