Resolutions for 2003... and beyond.
Mine: to continue being the very best and most perfect Nancy possible.
And to travel to more and new far-flung lands whilst photographing.
Yours: to continue reading blogged-out words by Yours Truly.

So wasn't I consumed by the roving and undulating party blob about me these past several days.
Highlights, and lowlights, merged:
1. freak wine bottle/opener accident at parents' home which nearly cost me my right thumb
2. creating a stellar cake topper for Jen and Eric's wedding on 12/27, it reaching a height of 2.5 feet and weighing the same as a full bottle of vino. Thank goodness that Dr. Eric baked a by-scratch cake dense with cake molecules. Live flowers, large marshmallows, ribbon, beads and assorted do-dads were all spared for my breathtaking project.
3. cavorting at Marty Boratin's excellent eve of the birth of JC party, only marred (ever so slightly) by the reelings of Bad Penny, who lunged at various people to tell them how much she hated them. As I left the party in the wee hours I spotted her amid a pile of coats on one of his several beds in the expansive exurban home and contemplated her angelic face sleeping off the stew of substances in her. I've been hearing how many people saw her sleeping and contemplated quietly smothering her Bad Sleepiness.
4. post-holiday joy upon hearing - finally - a good show is touring into the Middling City. Apples in Stereo about a month + away after I thought they must absolutely be dufunct.
5. receiving the world's oddest belt from sister and feigning delight and tactfully answering where it was purchased.
6. planning a car-dash to NYC for a trans-state bacchanalia as my newspaper is taking an unpaid-holiday respite = byesville but back for the Janet Reno Fan Club outing and column rootin' tootin' shootin'.

Onwards and onwardly love.

Ended the evening on a barstool at Dorota's side, in the lavish steakhouse, watching giant and thick-necked Buffalo Bills cavorting about with their girlie toys. One of them, the final Bill, tried to leave without paying his other sort of bill until the barkeep called his attention to that little slip of the mind. To (over)compensate the Buffalo Bill tossed a large bill in his grateful, now-obsequious direction.
And from the velvet curtain heading out this Buffalo Bill pronounced I'll be back with my wife, she'll love this place, as he left arm in arm with his lady friend.
The lavish steakhouse, unbelievably, was OUT OF OBAN and I had to settle for a lesser, less peaty scotch which, like the Buffalo Bill, is not worth naming.
Earlier had been the Janet Reno Fan Club Christmas banquet with usual mayhem following wine, gift exchanging, Polaroid documentation by Yours Truly, then a drive to the airport to p/u Dorota, a house party then the sad scotch moment.
Today is the eve of Christmas, the day when Jesus was allegedly born although once I read he was truly a Libra as is Your Favored Nancy. Of course Jesus was a Libra, a fairminded Buddhist who liked the drink.
December was when those dusty, scraggly-assed wisemen found him.
Happy days, happy holidays and happy nights.

Hansel and Gretel were bitches.
I had to shoot them, their rents, a witch, a fairy and assorted gingerbread kids and angels for the Middling City Orchestra (MCO) today, moments ago.
Not only were they both female, but both approaching middle age and, when I saw them backstage at halftime, they saw the camera and decided to give me small bits of diva attitude.
What, a camera, no flash... and on, and on.
The hirers told Hansel and Gretel that all was cool, that I had been shooting the first half of their performance and would forge on, all unobtrusive like.
What lesson can be learnt from Hansel and Gretel, the story, not the backstage gripers?
Well, some parents can be downright forgetful and neglectful, thus tossing their children into Fate's sometimes evil clutches.
And nothing is more jubilant, heartwarming, than the reunification of the Aryan nuclear family, after a hungry and pedocidal witch (Das Kinder Killer) has been gassed in an oven.
The End.
Onwards to an early newspaper deadline, an early AOL deadline and thenothen the Janet Reno Fan Club Christmas Banquet tomorrow evening, replete with nametags - per my request.
I am to be labeled as archivist.
I am always the archivist.
Archived Love.