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.