NYE 08 (dinner at lucques, roses, the abbey, confetti, dancing, and why i can't kick the stupid head cold)

ok, have had this head cold for two weeks.

it won't go away.  gets better.  gets worse.  gets better.

i'm not sure all the going out is helping.

but it was new year's eve.  i HAD TO GO OUT.

lucques was filled with roses and pink light,

with a "moulin rouge" celebratory menu.

we ate, drank, and reviewed our "annus horribilus/amazus"

then, off to the abbey,

entering just in time for the countdown.

Mac had obviously started before us . . .

wedgies.  eduardo a few drinks ahead of  us.

let's hope that champagne, roses, confetti, and patent shoes

are signs of the new year!

when they ask me why i think i have the cutest dogs on the planet, which they will, i will simply say : EXHIBIT A

we didn't have christmas.

not,

at least,

in the way i was raised to think of christmas.

there was no tree.

there were stargazers:

there was no unwrapping.

there was un-stuffing:

there was no snow.

or reindeer.

there was a sunset:

there was no turkey.

there was lobster.  and pomegranate seeds:

it was a bundle of made-up newness,

spur of the moment happiness.

maybe it WAS christmas,

after all.

a pit bull xmas tale : toys vs affection . . .

a little story without words,

from this christmas:

the end.

cross promoting MYSELF (something i am loathe to do) -

so today, i link you not to here,
but elsewhere,
to get you to taste some other edges of my world.

first, go here:

SAM SAFFMAN

emascul8 is my blog on fashion.  and why men shouldn't be afraid of it.
(if you want to read more, just click on the header of the blog, and you'll get to the homepage.)

then, go here:

BLUE IS YOUR COLOR

i used to write a lot of poetry.  i was pretty decent.  got published at one point, even. 
here's some of it, i upload sporadically as i stumble over pieces.

see there.

i was a poet, and you didn't know it.

a MANACOP-tacular reason to celebrate . . .

um, daddy.  what are you doing?

you seem so happy!

enchiladas with home-made mole?

home-made ceviche?

grr wants to help.

avec was a bit let down to learn it wasn't for her.

we were having company!  kira and manacop . . . our first dinner par-tay.

and michael's b-day . . . a good excuse to turn this:

into this:

the home-made strawberry rhubarb blackberry crisp with mexican vanilla ice cream.

thank you for being born, mr. manacop!

RESOLUTIONS FOR A NEW ERA :

if 2008 has taught me anything,
it is that with trauma,
with change,
comes great reward.

IF
you have one key element.

the ability to push through.  to keep going.  and to not accept anything
as inevitable.

winston churchill has one of my favorite quotes of all time
that sums up this philosophy.
during world war 2, he was asked how he kept his spirits up,
how he kept fighting when things seemed bleakest.

and he said:

"when you find yourself going through hell,
keep going."

so simple. 

so in this year, as i figure out where my career goes, and where life takes me, i'm comfortable with the following facts.  i will make mistakes.  i will not win every battle.  i will struggle with change. 

but now more than at any point in my life (drum roll, fanfare, etc.) i can feel confident that whatever happens, i'm going to be fine.  because i am fully, impactfully, disturbingly, myself.

whatever that means.  :)

i'm actually ridiculously optimistic right now.  but for all of you out there who've just survived '08 . . . i imagine you can relate to the concept.

so here's to you, my blog friends.

open your eyes this new morning,
and resolve to keep going.

i can feel the change in the air,
and it's so much more rewarding to change
together.

evelyn lee brings wonder to our lives, again.

evie and i were google chatting last week,
pensive over the hard 08 we are just about done with,
and sending each other music via itunes,
when she dropped this little gem into the chat.

a fragment of a poem by rumi,
the indian poet:

you've flapped and fluttered against limits long enough
you've been a bird without wings
in a house without doors or windows
compassion builds a door
courage cuts a key
ask,
step off into the air
like a baby hawk
strut proudly into the sunlight
not looking back
take sips of this pure wine being poured
don't mind if you've been given a dirty cup
it's nothing.

so this is my re-gifting for the year.

i leave you with that perfect suspended thought,

so you can find your way

and cut your key.

RE-GROUPING : ashley,scotty, colette, hillary . . . people stop showing up at comme ca!

the past couple of weeks around here have driven us to eat french food
at an alarming pace.

i blame both the advent of Comme Ca,
the restaurant that is drawing raves and my craving for skatewing
and mushroom risotto,
and the fact that our friends keep insisting we meet there.

like ashley furnival:

yes, she is the only gal i know who can combine chiffon and plaid and make it work.

i don't know how.

and we literally ran into hilary super there:

an old navy pal, who just happened to be going there the same night we were,
and we happened to be sitting three tables from,
but knew it
THANKS TO FACEBOOK.

gotta love status updates. 

then scott knudsen and colette mcgriff, in town to party,
meeting us up to hug on the pups,
then french 75 the night away:

look.  home-made truffles. 

i am going to be muy gordo soon. 

watch this space.  i may need it.