NickydocDocs

So yeah.  I woke up into the new year at about 3:24 AM today.  It was the hospital.  I, of course, was on call, pretty much extinguishing any hopes of traditional merrymaking. Joe and I decided to take the 'languorous' road to New Years--which is pretty much the same road we took to Christmas--pajamas, a roaring fire, our dogs, and some special-effects laden piece of Hollywood fluff.  I was out by 9:20.  It would appear that I truly HAVE turned into my Aunt Mae.

Next thing I know, I'm pulled outta my bed and rushing into the freezing cold Kentucky morning, diet Pepsi in hand and iPhone crunched uncomfortably against my ear.  I pull out of my driveway and hit the light on Tates Creek and Cooper, and what do I behold?  Yes boys and girls, I saw an actual 'walk of shame'.  There was this guy in the remnants of his suit, drinking heavily out of a bottle in a bag, sort of loping down the street.  I audibly chuckled.  Right there at the stop light, my mood changed.

One of the great things about working a bit out of town is the down time of the commute.  I've got a blue million CD mixes that I can listen to as I tool to work.  I think about my day ahead, rarely the day behind.  So I started my 20 minute commute thinking, 'Yeah, if I had a nickel...'  I had followed the comings and goings of my buds on Twitter, gazing longingly.  I began to think that I'm getting old, then realized of COURSE I'm getting old (which, in my book, is always better than the alternative).  There was this thing on Twitter, #10yearsago--everyone recounted what they were doing 10 years ago on that date.

I, for one, remembered very vividly what I was doing.  I was in Time Square.  I realize that sounds pretentious and,...I don't know...touristy.  Just the same, I was bound and determined to spend at least ONE New Year's Eve in Time Square.  That year seemed about as good as any other.  So I moonlighted like crazy, banked the dough, and went all out.  It was full of pageantry, that's mostly what I remember.  Every hour, on the hour, they celebrated the culture of the country that was celebrating the New Year across the globe.  The other thing I remember was, after about an hour, I was TRYING really hard to have a good time.  In the end, it should never be difficult.  As it turns out, I ended up in my hotel room at the Paramount with my ex, eating pizza while watching the ball drop.

Cut to ten years later.  I see the 'walk of shame', and sort of recounted my New Years passed.  The ones I remember, with the New York exception, are the ones that have been sort of impromptu.  Never throwaway affairs...just the ones full of the casual banter and elegance of people whom genuinely like one another.  I drove down the road actually REFLECTING on my life.  I honest to god counted my blessings.

I got to the hospital and did what I do.  One of the great refuges in my life is my work.  It's a place that appeals to the control freak in me.  I also love what I do.  As bad as it gets, it unfailingly fulfills my most fundamental needs--I'm not really sure what they are exactly; I just know they do.  Some 6 hours later, I found myself at a sunny-filled brunch.  It was a fantastic group of people, each different and unique, and, when bunched together, morphed into some beautiful bouquet--not a coiffed and manicured floral display from the hot florist in town, but the kind of grouping you'd see at an actual GARDENER'S house.

There were friends old and new, but it was one of those elusive moments where everyone is just being themselves.  The humor and good will were pure, not dank and flat like so many of the other gatherings I've been too.  And as I recounted my version of the holidays (which included cleaning up a veritable FOUNTAIN of my boyfriends vomit that he spewed all over two bathrooms with an apparent zeal that would make mere mortals weep, my black Lab's psychotic break which involved an epic throw-down with my toy poodle, AND my interrupted sleep), I realized that this is my life now.  I also realized that I didn't meet a single person in Time Square that year.  I didn't listen to a story of an absolutely undeniable love that was meant to be, including missed opportunities, a circuitous trip to Texas, 'other' women, and a love that you could tell was still going strong.  

I didn't meet someone who lived in New York, rubbing shoulders with Broadway stars, but decided he loved Kentucky too much to stay.  No one explained 'digital media' to me in a way that made me excited.  No one talked about the utility of the deep freeze.  No one cooked for me.  No one smiled, at least not in my direction.  In retrospect, I loved that trip because I ate pizza in my hotel room with someone I came to care for very much.  Today was that kind of day too.

It may not appear to be much but let's face it--these are the things that make a good life: love stories played out in small towns against all odds; the reaches of home to faraway and glamorous places; the revelry in and reverence for life told through levity and humor.  These, I believe, are truths well told.