There are two kinds of people in this world:
Those who like New Year's Eve.
And those who like New Year's Day.
I think you probably know which kind I am.
If you don't, here's a clue: It's 10 a.m., I've been up for several hours, and the laundry and meal plans are well enough under way for me to spend some time taking photos and reading.
I like New Year's Day. I like the idea of fresh starts and lofty goals, of a clean house and organized rooms. Most of the Christmas decorations stay out until the twelfth day of Christmas, which is January 6, unless I get very restless and take them down before then. I'm moderately restless now, which is why I'm quietly removing Christmas decorations here and there in a way that my tradition-bound family won't notice.
while reminding me of some of my goals for the New Year. In addition to liking these lovely colors and graphics, I'm also embracing the numbers. The fact that cream and lobster have the same number of calories as a bunch of grapes makes me feel so much better about my splendid dinner last night at Moro's Table (a restaurant that is worth driving to from no matter where you live, even if that's across the country). It began virtuously enough with cauliflower soup and roasted beet salad, then ventured decadently into red wine, beef and an amazing bittersweet chocolate bread pudding. (Lest that sound dangerously like an actual New Year's Eve observance, let me point out I was home reading a good book by 10 p.m.)