Last Post Of The "Aught's"

Tonight I was reminded of the New Year's Eve I spent housesitting in Santa Fe.  I was previously unaware of New Mexico tradition on a holiday such as this, so imagine my reaction when midnight came, and all the guns started going off.

At the turn of the century.

Essentially, it went something like this:

"Holy f***.  HOLY F***ING F***! The Y2K conspiracy-theorists were right!  It's f***ing Thunderdome out there!!!"

After that, being alone in a strange house has lost its ability to frighten me.

When midnight hit tonight, there was no ball drop on the television to mark the occasion.  But when I opened the balcony doors I could clearly hear people shouting the countdown from across the water, and that was good enough for me.  Then everyone started setting off their own personal stash of fireworks (legal here), and I spent the next half hour scuttling from one side of the apartment to the other, trying to catch the view from both sides.  Soon the air was filled with smoke and that wonderful smell that accompanies the lighting of a match.

At one point a huge one went off right next door and I jammed the camera up to my face just in time to capture a great shot.

So that was midnight my time.  Then, an hour later, I flipped on the telly to ring in the New Year with my East Coast brethren, and was lucky enough to catch a few precious moments of J.Lo in that dreadful unitard.  I hope to god I wasn't the only one watching that travesty with mouth agape.  I don't normally care about stuff like that, but this was just ... I mean ... how did this outfit get past her stylists?

I'm serious.  Can someone explain this to me?

Then the "ball" dropped - by the way, can I just tell you how anti-climactic the whole thing is now that they've switched to that digital l.e.d. bullshit - and I felt compelled to snap a few pics that I felt represented the moment.

First there was the smooching scene that would've made me feel sorry for myself if it wasn't for the saving grace of Glaring Corporate Greed:

Then there was the genuinely touching moment that also could've made me feel sorry for myself ... if I was a selfish narcissistic brat who didn't recognize that she at least had her health (such as it is):

 

Finally, I ended the night with another local tradition:  Trinidad Fruit Cake.  This, unlike its American counterpart, actually tastes good.  Extremely moist dark chocolate cake, loaded with the assorted dried fruits and spices one would expect, and then soaked in Angostura rum and a dash of bitters.

So, again, not the way I would've wanted to celebrate the holiday, but again, could've been a lot worse.