little bitty girl

I have been thinking about our New Year's party after seeing everyone post pictures. I haven't posted mine because frankly I had hardly any. I know. Me, the shutterbug queen, with no pictures? My bloody battery died halfway.

We really had the perfect New Years. About twelve good friends, antipasto, Portuguese BBQ chicken, rice, potatoes, veggies, playing games, and laughing hard. All over by 2:30 am.

Yet, I can't help but think about the ones we used to have when Stef lived in his huge 3,000 square foot loft. They were legendary and people still talk about it today. The last we had was beyond insane. We had about 4 DJ's, about 300-400 people, most of whom thought it was a club and half of whom we didn't know who the hell they were, one bathroom, lots of beer and puke to clean up after. I think that's why I said, "No More!"

I think I am really part country mouse and part city mouse. I like quiet and I like noise. I like to say I did all my party years when I was partying hard before I was legal, and I am done. Part of me feels sad, but just thinking about all I use to do, exhausts me.

Does that mean I am a grown up? And what exactly does that mean? I think we all define it for ourselves. I still get to do the social party, schmoozing thing because of my work and at home, I get to be the quiet and private me. I guess it all depends on your lifestyle. My girlfriend Marie, who lives on the West Coast, lives the cool, chilled out lifestyle and always thinks I am running around with my head cut off. Another friend who lives in NY enjoys the party-hardy life and thinks I've become the dullest girl around.

Chacon Son Gout, (To Each His Own) I say. We all decide at some point what becomes important to us.