Many bubbles

Eleventy zillion glasses of champagne, a New Year's Day stroll through Chinatown, an impromptu birthday party, and a solitary sixty-block hike (I needed a walk after all that booze and food) later, here I am with Sex and the City and a floor-sprawling kitty.

It was all pretty fun. I called Boywich all drunk and flirty at about 5 am. I got a very good fortune at a Buddhist temple. I bought some pretty printed silk lipstick cases. I came home and marveled at the fact that, 4 hours later, I am still kind of tipsy. (It was really, really good champagne.)

I have to admit, though, that last night I kept looking around at every tallish male to see if the blonde had walked in. And I was disappointed not to see him.

I guess I miss having a playmate. And this dating thing takes some getting used to. I was talking to Miz Fury about it the other day, and she said she'd felt much the same way when she began dating again after a long absence from it: very up and down. One gets surprisingly discouraged, given that these are people one doesn't really know at all.

And one tends to go on and on about it on one's blog, until one's readers are ready to go off and read anything else: a fashionista blog, a straight-knitting-and-crocheting blog, a news blog. Anything.

So instead I'll tell you about the trees I saw on my walk. I don't think it was just the champagne bubbles still flitting around in my head that made it special...there was a small double-row of naked-limbed trees strung with little white lights (which always look yellow to me, in the dark), and I stood at one end of it, looking into them. I squinted and let my eyes blur, and they became an uneven sea of yellow stars, like sparks jumping out of a campfire.

And then I was looking into a galaxy, and hoping/feeling that maybe this is what I will see when I die. It was lovely, and I was aware of looking, perhaps, like a small poetic figure there on Third Ave., with no one around to see it. I guess what I would like is to have someone around to see those kinds of things. That's all I really want. And a (cholesterol-free) cookie.