I was just reading this blog by Heidi Munson called Dateless this New Year? Online Dating? (okay, so New Year is past: I’m a little behind on my reading). This is what she suggested for New Year’s Eve–or as we call it back in Zambia, Old Year’s Eve, makes sense, right?–a do-it-yourself beauty makeover, eating in with a fabulously set table, Frank Sinatra playing in the background, and that special dessert you’ve been meaning to make. Next, a movie marathon with titles that inspire you to believe that there’s still a chance for Happily Ever After. She goes on to suggest that you reinvent yourself online by spying on the competition and then reworking your own profile so that you don’t attract “toads,” the term she uses for unwanted prospects. Her blog is about online dating tips and other toad evasion techniques.
The latter didn’t appeal to me at all. No online dating for this 100-year-old single woman. And no Frank Sinatra. How about Bon Iver and Beirut? That’s who I had playing on my iPod on New Year’s Eve. I had on my yoga clothes from my yoga session followed by a hike I’d taken with my dear maniacs up the “other” hill (after my incident with The Law up the regular hill), but no beauty makeover. It may be too late.
In the oven, I had a leg of lamb with potatoes that turn oh so crispy at the end; sauteed chopped kale and cannellini beans, mint sauce, chutney, and fresh green peas completed the dinner. But here’s the best part. I made myself a Bloody Mary with salt around the rim of the glass along with a stalk of celery and a lime wedge: the first I’ve ever made.
A little preamble here, I’m not big on hard liquor but I had just read an article on how to make the perfect Bloody Mary and as I was craving that spicy tomato taste, that’s what it had to be. Yow! It was the bomb. I had two and then amidst a cluster of lit scented candles, I ate my repast on my Thai traveling trunk that serves as a coffee table as I watched MI-5, a British import and very guilty pleasure, with Fergie and Jake’s eyes glued to my fork. But they’re polite little Staffies, averting their eyes when I looked back at them. Life is good.