Kickoff 2010 and Embarrassing Photos

Happy New Year! It's Day 3 and already I'm well on my way to accomplishing nothing. I've been off work for nearly two weeks and all the little things I had planned to get done during this time at a lackadaisical pace have been squandered beneath the grim reality that I am lazy, just like my mom always said. As a result, I am supremely happy that I didn't make any New Year resolutions because at this rate, I'll hit 2011 with zero achievements to show for the entire 12 months preceding. Therefore, I think I can place my advanced predictability skillz in the Success Column. Score one for me!

Now for the embarrassing photos of my New Year's Eve:

This snapshot, while not particularly embarrassing for me, is sure to come back to haunt my nanaboy, since he's not normally into fluorescent pink earrings. He gets props, though, for getting into the spirit and not caring what anybody thinks. He rocks.

His mother, cute as she is, turned out to be the New Year Peacock. This would not be her most embarrassing snapshot of the night.

As for me, because there were children in attendance, I was forced to keep my clothes on all night. I know. Sad.

In this portrait, I'm showing off my party animal skillz. It's the glasses, in case your own skillz are too sucky to figure it out, and, well, they're crooked. Incredibly, I was still able to see much better while I wore these babies. In fact, I saw my way to the cranberry cream cheese dip more than anyone else in attendance. 

What's embarrassing about this picture is that I'm wearing UT colors.

Here's my daughter the peacock, sans plumage, showing off her Texas Caviar, made with fresh black-eyed peas, peppers, onions, and seasonings. Yum! Real southerners eat black-eyed peas to ensure good luck all year long.

It totally worked for me last year; I didn't get married once.

Here I am getting drunk on all the good luck I can spoon in. Wait. Here I am on my way to getting drunk.That's it.

What's embarrassing about this photo is that everyone knows you don't eat black-eyed peas until January 1st. Plus, I double-dipped and didn't tell anyone. There, my need to confess all sins has left me publicly humiliated. Happy?

But seriously, if you double-dip and nobody's paying attention, how bad can it be?

Here's an example of just ONE of our illegal fireworks. Bottle rockets were pretty much the cous de gras of our wild and crazy celebration.

What's embarrassing is that these giant sparklers actually are illegal in Texas, a state once reputed to be the epitome of the Wild West. Nowadays, we just execute people.

Here I am with the boys at midnight. I know there's something embarrassing about this photo, but I can't get my head around it. Hmmm. Or maybe it's actually quite perfect since I am flanked by two of the cutest elfins on the planet.

At 2 a.m., my mad partying skillz gave out and commanded, "Go to bed," which I did, staring at the bottom of my nanaboys' top bunk and enduring the party din until the final revelers left at 5:30 a.m. and my vino hangover kicked in like a South Pacific tsunami. However, I survived without having to pay my respects to the Porcelain Gods of old. I believe I have actually, finally, grown up. A little.

How was your New Year's?

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Peas, Please

The black-eyed variety. In our neck of the Hill Country, it's a long-standing rule that the natives must eat black-eyed peas between midnight on the first day of the new year and 11:59 PM of the same day. This is to ensure that we all have good luck for another 12 months -- at which time, we must again immunize ourselves against the funky fickle finger of fate with another oral dose of black-eyed peas.

Naturally, if good luck isn't a concern for you, there's no point in forcing yourself to swallow. (After all, those little black eyes watch you the whole time you scoop them up and shove them in. Once, I think I even heard them scream.) And if, like me, you're not really a native, but a transplant, then you must weigh the folklore for yourself and decide if it's worth the possibility of fracturing that mirror just when you got all your bills paid. The redneck jury is still out on whether seven years of bad luck can be trumped by legumes with peep holes, but why take chances?

Me, I generally follow the rules, if not the superstitions (unless I don't like them). So today, as I do on this day every year, I will eat my black-eyed peas. It's an acquired taste that's taken me, oh, about 20 years to acquire. To prevent gagging (and feeling guilty), I enjoy my good-luck fiber in a savory dish called Texas Caviar. It's actually quite tasty, and since one can never be too careful with lucky breaks, I won't be shy about getting seconds.

What about you? Double or nothin'? Or shall I pass the black-eyed peas?

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