Sunday, January 01, 2006
It's a lame joke, but I'm running with it. Welcome to 2006 In Review: A Look Back. 2006 entered neither with a bang nor a whimper, but with the warm glow that comes from a decent meal and a two-fisted dessert selection, enjoyed in the company of kind and witty people. After eight consecutive New Year's Eves of sitting home cozily with Lloyd, watching one cartoon marathon or another until 11:59 p.m. (the notable exception being the roll into 2000, where I made quantities of steamed chicken buns, shu mai dumplings and and cold noodles, a fine but over-the-top way to celebrate, as Lloyd and I were the only attendees at dinner), I decided to start the year off with a little fellowship. The company, consisting of Bunni, Kiss Kiss, Rabid and Jeremiah, were not only kind and witty, but excellent sports: They traveled through sleet and wind on the drinkiest day of the year, only to find themselves sitting on chair cushions on our living room floor, since we don't have any of those nice accoutrements of grownup dinner parties like a dining room, or a kitchen table not covered with equipment. Not only did they hunker down on our floor, plates in laps, they also brought some very nice wine and two bottles of champagne of a vintage so fine that I'm wondering exactly what karmic debt I incurred in 2005 to deserve them, both the champagne and the friends. We ate (celery sticks and a Viennese cream cheese dip that, like 85% of my kitchen repertoire, comes from Laurie Colwin, as well as a spicy, moreish bean dip made by Bunni), we drank (beers in three shades! hefeweizen, apricot pale ale, stout, what'll you have?), we watched Invader Zim and The Dangerous Brothers, we ate some more (baked Smithfield ham, biscuits, coleslaw and the magnificent blackeyed-pea-and-rice New Year's Day staple known as hoppin' John), we drank some more (some of this nice Barbera d'Asti that Jeremiah brought? or the shiraz that Rabid brought? or would you like another beer?), we took a breather before moving on to the pecan pie and the cardamom-lime tea cake I made as a late birthday celebration for Bunni, we took a further breather before opening the champagne, we heckled the mayor for allowing "Auld Lang Syne" to be cut short in favor of "New York, New York." By 2 a.m. the festivities were over, our friends were sent home with leftovers, and Lloyd and I made our boozy, merry way to bed.
After such a festive beginning, the rest of the year progressed quietly but happily, in the form of a double feature of The Thin Man and The Trouble With Harry. I have decided that when I finally accept that I am a Middle-Aged Lady, I want to be just like Miss Ivy Gravely in The Trouble With Harry (played by the superb Mildred Natwick), wearing a different stunning blue housedress every day. Of course, it's much easier to dress like Miss Gravely if you have Edith Head to design your dresses, and I have it on good authority that Miss Head is done with the costume design racket. 
It has also been a day for leftovers, for contemplating the greatness of Smithfield ham and hoppin' John, for taking more baby steps into sock knitting, and for finishing the last of the champagne while sitting in a bath scented like a mimosa (the champagne and orange juice version, not the pretty flower version) and filled with glitter and stars. More will follow in the next few days, dear friends; maybe not about the bath, but about everything else. At the very least, I'm sure there are a good five or six thousand words in me about hoppin' John.
Damn, I knew I should have hopped a plane and spent it with you, instead. Happy New Year, Bakerina. (No work tomorrow, but B has school! How wrong is that?)
Yes. Yes! YES!
Happy New Year to you and yours.
happy New Year Bakerina!! if you need any gusset intervention, I will hop on a train!
Happy New Year, dear Bakerina! I know that whatever 2006 brings to these pages, it will be accompanied by copious amounts of your fine prose, razor-sharp wit and consummate baking prowess. And it goes without saying that the next time you make it to bonny Scotland, you will be welcomed with open arms!
Every post confirms that you’re a girl after my own heart. The Thin Man series? Sigh. And who else of our generation even knows who Mildred Natwick is? (My best friend’s father, who is 75, only recently stopped asking if every actress who passed across the screen was Mildred Natwick.) You rock.
Have a wonderful year, my dear. I can’t wait to read all your musings and urgent postings. When I come to New York in February, could we have tea? And of course, if you’re ever in Seattle, there’s a meal waiting here for you.
It has been a great disappointment to me upon reaching middle age, that the Edith Head housedresses have failed to materialize. I am also perturbed by my lack of a satin robe with padded shoulders, and a suit with a peplum jacket and large buttons.
And, of course, as we have discussed, the bread situation is disturbing.
However, in a number of other respects, especially given the objective state of the world in general, the circumstances of this here superannuated hippie, starting out 2006, are far more pleasant than I would ever have predicted.
A Very Happy New Year to you and Lloyd. Should you ever come back to the ‘burg, for a visit-or with that business plan- I’d love to meet up and wander the Strip District.
Hippy Nude Yard to yooooooo bakie-babe. xoxo
Happy New Year to you...your cookies await…
I only wish I could have shared such a wonderful new years celebration. Mine was a ball that was overpriced and under delivered in all ways.
85 bucks a ticket for a guy on a keyboard playing 70’s Polish Oompa music (my wife described it as “On Top of Old Smokey with a Polka beat.") and the food while plentiful, had something to be desired. And I got the bonus, on my beef wrapped rubber that was uncuttable and unchewable, they gave me the added surprise long grey hair to pull from my teeth. One lady got a big juicy black widow spider crawl out of her green grapes. And since I was the designated driver, I couldn’t even get pie-eyed. The only salvation was my 2 buddies getting hammered beyond recognition and becoming world class tuxedo wearin clowns dancing in the most absurd manner. There was hilarity and laughter had by all, but mostly at the ridiculousness of how bad the whole ball was.
The best part of the night was coming home with my wife and the ensuing new years cuddles.
Mildred Natwick! When I get bored at work, I google her name. Why? Because of her strange wondrousness. At 43, almost 44, perhaps I too should now take up blue housedresses. Two years ago I visited Vermont and Craftsbury Common where Hitchcock filmed The Trouble With Harry. A man came running down the street, asking if we were looking for Harry. I assumed he meant a lost dog named Harry, but he meant Harry movie memorabilia. He ended up taking my husband and me and an impassioned Hungarian man who had come across the sea to visit all the Trouble With Harry sites on a tour of a yet to be opened museum display on the movie. He told us where Mildred’s house was and we stood gazing at in in rapture, half expecting an invitation to high bush blueberry muffins, coffee, and oh yes, possibly some homemade elderberry wine!
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Happy New Year, Ms B