+ laura Holder not com +

Many spent Christmas trees line the curbs today, but the garbage trucks didn't come, and a neighbor has trimmed all the branches off his tree, leaving a spindly, scruffy naked tree trunk next to garbage bags filled with its greenstuff. But why?

The whole thing of what to do on New Years Eve was solved with a good-enough, spontaneous solution: go to store, buy turkey, decide to cook it on new years day. Call some friends, invite them over for tomorrow. Leave turkey to soak in brine overnight, put on fur hats, go out to local bar/restaurant to celebrate.

Find yourself at Allioli, sit at the bar making conversation with the bartender and his gal, who is spending her evening with a never-ending, bottomless goblet of sangria. Join her.

Eat seared lobster with favabeans and fois gras. At midnight, take the grapes from the plates which have been placed before you and all people in the bar (the idea was to eat one grape per second, in the last 12 second of the countdown to midnight, which would leave you with a mouthfull of grapes when you kiss your loved-ones, neighbors, friends, and strangers) and instead of eating them, at the midnight stroke, throw them.... everywhere. Get them thrown at you. Kiss everyone. Kiss the cooks. Next, get prepared for the completely unexpected, realize you're being descended upon by a wild pack of indiginous local 6-10yr olds who live above the restaurant. A clan of young girls and one boy, beaming with silly energy and glittery fingernails burst through the curtain at midnight, pranced a raucous lap around the restaurant (there was a human-chain involved) and induced mad dancing... you know, a typical night on Grand St. in the burg.

Then, somewhere after the 1AM hour, wonderfully, Sxx & company, and Stuntlab & company showed up to bring us back to the world of adults... There was more champagne toasted, there was a "Catch me I'm falling over right now and I don't want to spill my drink" moment, there were crystal tattoos and kicked-over long-neck beers... Rightfully, nobody got to bed before 4:30am.

Our turkey on the First Day of the Year, we simply must say, we didn't think you all were just being polite, we truly believed, was juicy, succulent, flavorful, and not at all overdone. Quite perfect, we were convinced. And the gravy, The Gravy! Rob you really outdid yourself. And have you ever had baked beans like those Gwendolyn made? No. We bet not. The scene was, as we were, under-rested yet peaceful, a bit glazed, and perfectly enjoyable. Appropriate for the day following New Years Eve.

Dreamt, I just have to tell you this... dreamt I was at Carol Burnett's house. I was friends with her daughter. Her daughter was Beth Hobbs, from highschool. She, too, was very funny. The whole family was funny.
We were gathered for a holiday meal, with her entire family present. Her grandmother was very short. Under 4' tall. She could walk into the oven to check on the turkey.
So eventually we sat down to this meal, and then her dad started the engine to a truck; it turns out we were seated at a table which was on what must have been the flat bed of a truck. So then he, my friend's dad -- Carol's husband-- began driving around... we were eating this meal, while being driven through hills, of Switzerland. We were in Switzerland. It was beautful, mountainous. Later we took a nap, and although there were three beds in the room, but we all piled onto one. We held hands and napped.