NYE

Going on a date with B tonight for NYE. Was wanting to see the local symphony orchestra concert, but as always, being the last minuter that I am, found out that the only seats left are, not only expensive, but also not so strategic. So decided to pass on that. Next year I’ll make sure to get our tickets on time, probably in early fall.

I thought to myself, “I’m getting so old. I want to watch a classical concert on NYE, when most people my age probably plan on getting utterly inebriated.” I asked myself if I’d have fun if we were to go out on the town partying from bar to bar with  no sobriety in sight. Or if we were to go out partying on the biggest NYE party in town – a ball-dropping party of some sort held in one of the town’s main streets.

I found myself answering no. It’s not because I’m getting old, or because I have a kid or some stupid insensible bullshit like that. It’s simply because I’ve become, surprisingly, awfully content with the fact that I am, afterall, a social introvert. 

And besides, I like getting drunk in my own home. Endless booze, convenient distance to nearby bathrooms should I feel the need to vom. For a social introvert with special fondness of alcohol, I really can’t imagine anything more fun than that.

That sounds really sad, but well. I’m about to turn 27, and it’s about time I feel comfortable admitting that. I love a party with friends, I really do. But most of my dearest friends are far away from this town, and B’s friends.. well, I don’t know about you, but I can’t really foresee myself having a boatload of drunkey, boozy fun with people whose relationships with me fall in the acquaintance category.

So B suggested the classic routine of dinner and movie. I’ve been wanting to catch Harry Potter. But then decided against the movie, because well, I just don’t feel like a movie on NYE. We watch movies all the time anyway. But the dinner is still on, and here I am, at almost noon on the day of the NYE, with no idea or reservations.

This morning I suddenly remembered that I’ve been wanting to experience the Brazilian churrascaria experience. Basically a meat buffet, done Brazilian style. So I checked the website of the one restaurant in this town who does churrascaria, only to find out that no tables are available.

So there’s another plan down the drain. All because I’m a lazy, last-minuter bum.

Now I’m starring blankly at the local restaurant guide website hoping some sort of inspiration will hit me, and if we’re lucky, a table in the restaurant of our final choice.

I should really worry about making resolutions instead, shouldn’t I?

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“I do not believe in the creed professed by the Jewish Church, by the Roman Church, by the Greek Church, by the Turkish Church, by the Protestant Church, nor by any Church that I know of. My own mind is my own Church.”

Thomas Paine

One of my 2011 resolutions is to figure out where I stand in the spiritual ground. One thing that never changes is the fact that I highly regard spirituality is something that is very, very personal. Spirituality should not be forcefully imparted on other people, even on my own child. And for this very simple reason, I know that no matter what final decision I make after figuring out this resolution, I will never go back to instituted religions.

So I have the case of SAD every winter. And it sucks. My remedy is usually just copious amount of holiday-themed alcohol beverage. At this year’s annual Christmukkah Party at my uncle-in-law’s house I drank three plastic cups of what must have been Riesling with a higher than average alcohol percentage. Because boy, was I drunk. (Right, let’s be honest, I’m also a fucking lightweight, hahaha).

But you know, in my defense, it’s the holidays. And some of us don’t just get off on pretty sparkly ornaments or wrapping crap presents in cutesy giftwraps or stuffing the piehole with exorbitant amount of fattening holiday food. Some of us need something a little stronger, something a little more..hmm. Lethal.

Anyway, that was unimportant.

On a lighter note, my son and I have now established our morning routine. After a morning nursing and quick diaper change, we’d go downstairs to the kitchen. He’ll drink his grape juice and I’ll drink my black coffee. I’d make scrambled eggs for breakfast (because I can’t be bothered to make anything else that requires greater effort in the morning), then we share a plate together.

After that, we’ll sing and dance around to songs from Glee. His favorite is Safety Dance. The boy is mad about Artie’s dance moves, haha.

It’s for those simple moments that this winter is somewhat bearable. Even special. I won’t ever be one of the people who say having kids is rainbow and sparkles all the time, but I’ll tell you one thing : though some days he makes me pull my hair out and tempt me to pour myself a glass of wine at noon, in the bigger and more important scheme of things, my son always makes me a happier person.

And for a grump like me, nothing much beats that.

mmmmm carb.

My dinner was fettucine with ham and onion in a tomato cream sauce. With butter, too, of course. Took me a mere 15 minutes to whip up. I was getting fucking tired of the Christmas spread.. the ham, the spinach casserole, the sweet potatoes and the potato gratin. I asked B to run to the store and got me some ramen (I wanted to eat ramen because we got these absolutely gorgeous ramen bowls for christmas. Yep, that was the reason, and also, let’s face it, I’m Asian and as such I’m supposed to be a ramen fanatic, LOL). But alas, he refused. He doesn’t believe in instant ramen and avoids them like the plague, LOL. 

So I had to make do. And I remember reading Pioneer Woman’s cooking blog a while back. Specifically this post. I happen to have all the ingredients needed, so I decided to make this. And really, not very many things make a dish better than the addition of onion and ham. So.

Now my stomach’s aching a little. I haven’t had so much to eat, so late, in a while. It’s worth it though.

Now I’m admiring Masaki Okada while getting tipsy on brandy.

OH YEAH.