Somewhere in my stomach is champagne toast.

Here is a brief list of things I’ve consumed in the past 24 hours:

Baby carrots. Buttered toast. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Pancakes. Blueberries. Raspberries. Honey. Hash browns. Candy coated mini eggs. Icing. Gorgonzola cheese. Cranberry covered goat cheese. Cheddar. Marble cheese. Jalapeño cheese. Mini toast crackers. Roasted garlic cloves. Sundried tomatoes. Artichokes. Pulled barbecue chicken. Pulled pork tacos with coriander, onions, cheese and hot sauce. Chilli. Roasted root vegetables. Vegetarian meat balls. Bean salad. Gluten free mac and cheese. KFC chicken breast. Fries in gravy. Oreo cheesecake. Barbecue chips. Spanakopita. Spring rolls. Canadian Club maple with ginger ale and lime. Tequila. Sangria. Champagne. Lemonade. Irish coffee. Water.

2016 has started out alright.

It was a boon to try things in a different light than I’ve been used to. No club environment, we opted instead for a potluck house party with a bunch of good friends. Obviously there were vittles and libations in abundance, which I made a point of celebrating. The party went from zero to onesie clad in under 30 minutes. A lot of people in one house meant layers were shed around the place. Twerking lessons were more physically demanding than I’d expected, so I stepped out of the onesie instead of turning it into a sweat sack. The most important tip I picked up was to twerk on the balls of my feet instead of heels. Like taking a good shit, it keeps things loose and flowing nicely.

As much as the night was a blast (catching up with people I hadn’t seen in far too long. Conversing at length in the perennial prestige party spot, the kitchen), it was the morning that really defined what a good choice of celebrations we’d made. Waking up in an immensely comfortable and spacious king sized bed with my girlfriend, the room was soon invaded by an excitable four year old and the adults who’d managed to stumble into consciousness. As my girlfriend and I snuggled, the others played and joked with the little dude. Hearing his unmitigated joy as he played and rolled around the bed was a ton of fun. Someone else came to crash with us and a friends flowed in and out of the room. Eventually the procession migrated to the lounge, where we tumbled into a cuddle puddle of literal and emotional warmth. There were no stresses to be had. The hosts were generous to a fault with top tier hospitality. We were treated to a huge breakfast platter, coffee and films. There was no insistence that we leave; we were free to chill (and Netflix) to our heart’s content. It’s not possible to overstate how gratifying it was to bask in a love-filled atmosphere as snowflakes blanketed the outside world. This could be a portent of a great year to come.

Or karma could be about to take a monumental shit on my head.


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