Mary Bellamy

Can you believe I was in a bar with two reporters and neither of them had a pen so I could write that bon mot down? Good thing I remembered it. I don't remember much else of last night.

Gary, Scott, Josh, Chris and I went to the Boatel for the evening. Scott remained sober and was our DD for the night, while the rest of us tried to cram into his Impreza. Martinis kept appearing in front of me all night long, many pictures were taken, and I recall dancing a lot with Jean-Luc Picard. Rumor has it I also kissed him.

We were dismayed to find that McDonald's was closed at 3 a.m. (Resolutions to eat healthier only go into effect after one has slept off New Year's Eve.) Somehow the lack of french fries resulted in buying a bunch of crappy frozen pizzas at Wal-Mart. I believe Josh chose to sleep on the floor, and he and Chris went home around 6:30 a.m. Gary was up and cooking breakfast around 10, while I laid claim to the term "indisposed." Since this is only the second time I've had a hangover in my life (the first being the result of Uncle Milton's eggnog and a bonfire a few years back), I was ill-prepared. However, I had thrown together a baked french toast dish before we went out, so Gary popped it in the oven, then he, Scott and I cuddled in bed while all the food cooked.

Gary was really keen on Skyping Mother Haley, though I demurred. He even offered to wander by casually in the background wearing nothing but an apron. In the end, we just ate breakfast and drank mimosas. Hair of the dog and all that.

I do have pictures to post and Christmas stories to share, but my Internet has been, frankly, shit. I've got yet another appointment with a technician on Monday. I'll replace the phone lines when I rip out the interior walls, but for now my ability to connect is sporadic at best. Keep your fingers crossed for better connections tomorrow, and maybe I will upload pictures of Oh Tannenbones.