Totally cute Talia at the noisemaker-heavy apres-improv New Year’s celebration at My Florist in Ventura

I’m halfway through the first day of 2009 and here is some important data for you:

1. This is my 501st post!!
2. First song heard: a snippet of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, as played by Leonard Bernstein
3. Assessment of digestive health: robust. A bit of lingering heartburn lowers the grade to B+*.
4. Champagne: when will I learn?
5. First movie (to be seen at 3:45 today:) Milk.
6. First food in the foodhole: Pecan waffle with warm cinnamon/vanilla syrup.
7. The late-2008 Becky (loudly) declared 2009 to be the “Year of Hugs!” So let it be written.

I spent my first New Year’s Eve at our improv theatre for the first time in several years. It was quite jolly and satisfying — particularly the silent auction, where I scored a couple hundred buck’s worth of gift certs for a song; and the raffle, in which I won a pair of gorgeous silver hoops. Mine! Apparently, greed is resolution-proof.

However, I’m a touch melancholy that I am not in New York, where I have celebrated New Year’s for the past few years. Big squeeze to Tamar & Rich, Chris & Molly, Charles, Lisa. Hope to see you soon.

On that tip, I shall reach into the “Drafts” folder and pull out a post that’s almost a year old. For your enjoyment, here’s an account of a very, very good day. It was the second of January, 2008.

My New York hostess (with the very, very mostess) and I spent a little morning hangout action before I headed into Manhattan. It was turning quite cold, and I have to admit, it was kind of exciting. Weird scary cold! Eye-watering, face-paralyzing, tooth-achingly cold.

I inhaled some noodlies of a duckie kind at Sammy’s Noodle House with friends Chris and Molly. My mouth toured the Asian Pacific whilst in New York. You might have read in this space about the sad dearth of good Asian food in the town where I live. So when there is quality to be found, I hoover it up.

Then: Magnolia Bakery cupcakes. Oh jesus. They are famous and quite overhyped and trendoid but when something gets famous like that in New York, there is plenty of proof to the claim. Oh jesus. The cake is dense and home made tasting, with some kind of indefinable toasty crunchiness. Then the frosting. Oh jesus. We stood in the small park across the street in fifteen degree weather, eating cupcakes and keeping our faces from freezing by sucking down hot coffee. Wrappers littered the ground, like needles in Junkie Park. I thawed out at Biography Book Store and bought A. Burroughs’ excellent Possible Side Effects, which I consumed in two sittings.

My mouth declared it was time for Manhattans in Manhattan so off we went to Minneto’s Bar. Dark, old-school, caricatures on the wall, Rocky Graziano era. Chris whipped out his portable mustache. I looked, disconcertingly, like my father.

Do you think that was it for the night? Ho hooo no. Because when I am in New York, I don’t stop, I can’t stop. More tomorrow.

* Whoops, the grade has dropped to C-. That waffle didn’t set so well. But totes worth it.