Tomorrow is 2011. The date sounds so futuristic to me.
Tonight Joe and I have dinner reservations at a trendy new restaurant in downtown St. Pete.
I plan on wearing a dress, red lipstick and high heels.
I’ve looked forward to this date all week.
And yes, I plan on having a sip (or two) of champagne. The baby and I could use a little fizz to ring in the New Year.
But that’s tonight.
Right now it’s 4:11 in the afternoon and I’m still digesting the sandwiches I made today for myself and my friend Wendy Joan, who pedaled her bicycle over to my place today for lunch.
Tomato, mozzarella and basil on pita with balsamic vinegar and olive oil, followed by strawberry salad, followed by chocolate truffles. Deeeeeelicious.
So, yeah, I keep thinking 2011 sounds futuristic, but right now the coming year feels comfortably quaint.
Why is that?
First: because Wendy brought me the cutest jar of homemade pickles. (That’s the jar above. Adorable, right?)
Second: because she rode her bicycle here.
Third: because she used to live in Sarasota, but recently moved to St. Pete and now we live a mere two miles apart.
Fourth: because Wendy is originally from Buffalo, which means we immediately have 500 Buffalo things to talk about, like the fact that she also worked at the McKinley Mall and that there’s a pretty good chance that during my four years at Waldenbooks our paths unknowingly crossed a dozen times.
Fifth: because Wendy is also a journalist.
When I woke up this morning I thought about how I want to feel in 2011. I thought about how nice it would be to stretch out the simple pleasures a little more. Of course I have my big goals and my big plans, but it’s the little stuff in between that keeps the big goals on track.
Little pleasures keep us well oiled. They make us better equipped for plowing through big stuff, heavy stuff.
The way I see it, if I can start off 2011 with a jar of homemade pickles, I’m doing alright.
Happy New Year, beloved Lance-a-lots. It’s gonna be a good one.