We entertained T-Bone's bro and his family on New Year's Day and ate even more Tex-Mex(!) alongside our black eyed peas and collards. I really think I need some kind of therapy to cure me of this lifelong addiction to beans, cheese, and guacamole and the various combinations thereof. But at least give me my tortillas. Can't. live. without. those. Or sugary-as-shit pralines.
I've spent the better part of the last two days slowly but surely taking down the Christmas stuff. The tree went yesterday, and I've done everything else except the kitchen window vignette (yes, I said it), which is so cheery, I think its absence will actually throw me into some kind of depression. I keep everything in plastic bins in my closet, though, so if the mood strikes, I can open them up and pet my pretties. Freak.
As far as resolutions, well, who doesn't want financial security and a (real, not "exotic") dancer's bod? But, knowing me and my limitations, I'll just go with an overall "Cut the chatter - Spin the platter" (i.e., less talk, more rock) motto for the year and be satisfied if I just get off my ass and actually do SOMEthing towards those goals.
Happy, Healthy New Year, y'all.
* Also of note:
- I like to picture Jesus in a tuxedo t-shirt. It's like it's formal, but it also says, "I like to party."
- Don't you put that evil on me, Ricky Bobby!
- Abracadabra, homes.