Happy New Year’s Eve

Shot and a beer, New Year's Eve 2012
Two dead soldiers.

As 2012 stumbles drunkenly toward its denouement, I’m toasting its imminent and overdue departure with a pair of tasty Colorado beverages — the last shooter from a bottle of Leopold Bros. American Small Batch Whiskey and a chaser of Odell Brewing Co.’s 5 Barrel Pale Ale.

Earlier today I answered emails, viewed the news with the usual alarm, broadcast various snarky bits via Twitter, sent out some final invoices and collaborated with the folks at Red Kite Prayer on their end-of-the-year awards. Finally, after putting it off as long as was humanly possible, I tottered out for a short run in subfreezing temps.

My reward for such diligence? Falling flat on my ass in Monument Valley Park. Thus the medicinal whiskey.

I should know better than to exercise when tired. Technique deteriorates, what’s left of the mind wanders, and the next thing you know you’re hitting the frosty ground with a thud, like a trash bag full of bacon grease, potato peelings and empty bottles.

Yet phoenix-like I arose, cursing, and stumbled on through the cold. determined to shed another gram or two before packing on the pounds at a final holiday gathering, which happily is just across the street.

But before I go, I’d like to thank you for popping round during 2012. The joint remains woefully light on Pulitzers, MacArthur genius grants and (all of a sudden) Leopold Bros. American Small Batch Whiskey. But it continues to be remarkably heavy in lively and intelligent discourse (largely in the comments section, my posts serving as the literary equivalent of a questionable foundation laid by highly unskilled labor).

So slainte to thee and thine, and pop round again next year for some fresh nonsense.

• This just in from The Midnight Rambler: “New Year’s Eve,” via Tom Waits.

The days of wine and hoses

Tavel rosé
This Tavel rosé pairs well with food. It’s also pretty damn’ nice all by its lonesome.

We shipped Herself the Elder back to Tennessee this morning, or so we thought.

Her flight out of Bibleburg, slated for 10:45 a.m., didn’t go wheels up until 12:30 p.m. And her connector in Dallas was canceled, so she’s camped in the Dallas airport awaiting another. If she’s lucky she’ll be back in the loving bosom of her cats at midnight.

Meanwhile, Herself the Younger is driving home from Denver in a light snow and cursing like a sailor, because she (a) hates driving in the dark, (2) hates driving in the snow, and (iii) hates driving in the snow in the dark.

Only I am left unscathed to tell the tale, because I have the great good fortune to be unemployable and thus possessed of abundant leisure to motor hither and thither in the daylight, when it is not snowing. Thus did I hie me to the grog shop, fortified by a largish check for making things up, thence to restock the wine rack stripped bare by our Yuletide revelry.

Now I’m sipping a tart Tavel rosé and sifting mentally through the available leftovers: quite a bit of posole; the makings for a short round of tacos de papas con chorizo; some pintos in chipotle chile; the underpinnings for a second round of beef enchiladas on red chile, save the sauce.

Posole, tacos and beans it is. Even a slacker deserves a day off.

Christmas music that doesn’t suck (5)

Elvis has left the building, but P-p-porky Pig is still very m-m-much with us.

We had a white Christmas, which meant that instead of lollygagging around the rancheroo I had to drag ass outdoors in 15-degree temps to broom the block. Yes, “broom” — thanks to the global climate change that the Elefinks don’t believe in, we never get enough snow to shovel.

I tried shooting it, but that didn’t work. Clearly, we need more guns.

Christmas music that doesn’t suck (4)

I already slapped this one up this year, but it is about Christmas Eve (in the drunk tank), so up it goes again. Can’t tell you how delighted I was to learn that Shane MacGowan has new teefers for the holidays. I wonder if they’ve changed his “singing” voice. …

Meanwhile, Herself, Herself the Elder, Mister Boo and I drove to Fort Fun for an early (and delicious) holiday meal with my sister and her husband. A wonderful time was had by all, and — ¡que milagro! — the trip there and back was completely without incident. Normally we see a half-dozen cars upside down in the median thanks to the usual palette of human stupidities, but this time around there wasn’t even any serious stop-and-go. We even beat the snow home.

A Christmas miracle, to be sure. Here’s hoping your holiday goes likewise.