five... four... three... two... one!

"Hey Kate, did you have a nice New Year's Eve?"

Kate swivels in her chair, smiles smugly at the visitor in her doorframe, and tosses her hair over her left shoulder. "Why yes, I did," she says, twinkling her eyes, "thank you!"
In a full-court-press effort at efficiency and productivity, she begins to swivel her chair back towards the computer screen when the visitor chokes out his question -- "What. Did. You. Do?"

"Oh, me?" she replies, chuckling, "I was in Times Square. But not with all the rabble. I was at a private party. I was a VIP."

And it's true. I was. (see?)
It's a long story of just exactly how I got invited, but I did, and I had an excellent time, if I do say so myself.

ABC Studios (our hosts) did something interesting -- they hired professional dancers to be there just to get the party to start dancing. And I'm all for that. I love to dance, and rarely get the chance, so any time there's an opportunity, I like it to start before we all get too drunk to remember the way it feels to move in space with other people. To forget how clutzy I can be, and to just embody the music for a few hours.

My date and I named the dancers -- this one below is Olga and Marcos. (Ok, I named him Marcos on my own. But I think it's fitting.)

Sexy-doodle-doo! (Except he was very, VERY gay.)

There was another dancer there who looked like a cross between Gwen Stefani (poofy hairball thing on top of her head and two tight, blonde french braids on the side), Scarlett Johansen (face) and Me in Fourth Grade (six inch, white elastic belt, and one white legwarmer. ONE!)

In what seems to be a trend at corporate parties these days, we were given a number of toys and decorations -- hats, wands, and (my favorite) sunglasses. I dropped mine right away and a lens popped right out, so I popped out the other one as well in order to sport a truly nerdy look. At several different points I was given a hat, but it didn't fit my head at all, so at several-plus-one different points, I lost it.

They had carved out a little space for us in the square -- we couldn't see the ball drop, but we could see the screen counting down the seconds. Doe to some odd form of digital interference, there's a line through the middle of the 19... but who cares? I was in Times Square on New Year's Eve and NOBODY BARFED ON ME!

There were noodles. (oodles of them)

And confetti:

And there was something electric about being there. I didn't want to hug everyone, I didn't want to sing along or propose to anyone, but I did want to send a big hallmark card to the city of New York. I love this town. I really do. So much so that the other day, as I was in a subway going over the bridge, I looked at the sunset behind the Brooklyn Bridge and it was so beautiful, so painfully beautiful, that I started to cry. The thought of ever leaving this city feels like leaving a friend. And yet... could I ever really raise kids in the city?

But that's another story for another post. (although it was on my mind over New Year's.)

Anyway, great times were had (until 4:24 am!) and I woke up with a tennis ball lodged in the frontal lobe of my brain. (Which, I'll tell you, is NOT pleasant.) It's hard to be a lightweight. You forget that sometimes, drinking hurts.

If I sent out New Year's Cards, this might be the photo. Something about it makes me feel like we're a comedy duo from the forties. I think it's the glasses.

Happy New Year, everyone!