New Year's.
I would like to hereby declare that this, this is actually New Year's Day -- this spark-bright and knife-sharp day, with the first scents of a promised spring drifting on its cool crisp breezes. Not yesterday, gloomy and friendless; mark yesterday on your calendars as an aberration, an interregnum, one last bastard offspring of 2002.
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This was the most ambivalent New Year's I've ever had, I think. Went to two parties -- loved the first one, genuinely could have done without the second.
The first party was at the home of Phil and Kaja Foglio. I've adored Phil Foglio's work for years, since his strips for Dragon Magazine back in the early 80's, to more recent projects like XXXenophile and Girl Genius. Getting invited to this party was an unexpected honor and pleasure. retcon already had at least a nodding acquaintance with Mr. Foglio, and that, plus the fact that we let him cut in line near us in a huge queue to see The Two Towers, earned us the invite.
An interviewer once asked Mr. Foglio the simple question, "Do your parents know what you're up to, young man?" His reply was, "Yes. Their protests died when I bought my own house." Now that I've seen the house, I can understand that. It's huge and beautiful (and located in scenic Ballard, but you can't have everything), and it's filled with -- stuff! Basically, the house itself is crammed with the same level of amazing and eccentric detail that his artwork is. An eastern theme dominates the living room, with furniture and artifacts that looked Japanese and Mongol and God knows what else. The main hallway is lined with every kind of hat you can think of, and some you can't. I got to see the famous never-ending poker game played at a proper poker table. Even the basement was a treat, as I got to see the boxes and shelves and shipping equipment that go into keeping Studio Foglio running.
Phil and Kaja have a three-year-old son, Victor, who is delightful, energetic, bright and unafraid. I saw him watch Roger Rabbit, get into treebyleaf's knitting like a cat and graciously accept her offer to make him a scarf, reassure prncsmoonbeam that she didn't need to be afraid of his toy spaceship, and make a fire-engine dog out of Play-Doh. (For the uninitiated, a fire-engine dog is, apparently, a fire engine, but with a dog's tail, a dog's head, and a fireman's helmet.)
Now, if my life in 2002 were a book, this is the point where I'd make some comment about the implausibility of the character symbolizing Death and the character symbolizing Life Continuing having the same name, but real life isn't bound to plausibility.
Midnight came, and we rang in the New Year with all good cheer and great force, as Phil hauled a huge gong outside and let us all take a whack at it.
The party as a whole was smaller and quieter than I'd imagined it would be, but I had a fine time. I got to spend time with local artists and raconteurs Donna Barr and Betty Bigelow. I even got to make Phil laugh a couple of times, which was a pleasure and a privilege -- it's good to be able to return the favor, even in a small way, to the man who's made me laugh so much and so often.
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Shortly after midnight, we said our goodbyes and left for another party we'd been invited to. I'm afraid I didn't reaally know the hosts or most of the attendees, and I came to the conclusion within a few minutes that I didn't really want to, either; I've nothing against debauchery as a general rule, you understand, but something about this particular gathering just seemed, well, kind of tawdry to me. I'm afraid to say my mood crashed completely, and I wasn't in a position to be decent company to the people there I was happy to see, and for that I can't apologize enough. I spent the rest of my time there bored and irritated, just simply waiting to go home. The less said about that, the better.
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In all, an extremely mixed set of blessings. All things considered, an entirely appropriate send-off to 2002.
---
This was the most ambivalent New Year's I've ever had, I think. Went to two parties -- loved the first one, genuinely could have done without the second.
The first party was at the home of Phil and Kaja Foglio. I've adored Phil Foglio's work for years, since his strips for Dragon Magazine back in the early 80's, to more recent projects like XXXenophile and Girl Genius. Getting invited to this party was an unexpected honor and pleasure. retcon already had at least a nodding acquaintance with Mr. Foglio, and that, plus the fact that we let him cut in line near us in a huge queue to see The Two Towers, earned us the invite.
An interviewer once asked Mr. Foglio the simple question, "Do your parents know what you're up to, young man?" His reply was, "Yes. Their protests died when I bought my own house." Now that I've seen the house, I can understand that. It's huge and beautiful (and located in scenic Ballard, but you can't have everything), and it's filled with -- stuff! Basically, the house itself is crammed with the same level of amazing and eccentric detail that his artwork is. An eastern theme dominates the living room, with furniture and artifacts that looked Japanese and Mongol and God knows what else. The main hallway is lined with every kind of hat you can think of, and some you can't. I got to see the famous never-ending poker game played at a proper poker table. Even the basement was a treat, as I got to see the boxes and shelves and shipping equipment that go into keeping Studio Foglio running.
Phil and Kaja have a three-year-old son, Victor, who is delightful, energetic, bright and unafraid. I saw him watch Roger Rabbit, get into treebyleaf's knitting like a cat and graciously accept her offer to make him a scarf, reassure prncsmoonbeam that she didn't need to be afraid of his toy spaceship, and make a fire-engine dog out of Play-Doh. (For the uninitiated, a fire-engine dog is, apparently, a fire engine, but with a dog's tail, a dog's head, and a fireman's helmet.)
Now, if my life in 2002 were a book, this is the point where I'd make some comment about the implausibility of the character symbolizing Death and the character symbolizing Life Continuing having the same name, but real life isn't bound to plausibility.
Midnight came, and we rang in the New Year with all good cheer and great force, as Phil hauled a huge gong outside and let us all take a whack at it.
The party as a whole was smaller and quieter than I'd imagined it would be, but I had a fine time. I got to spend time with local artists and raconteurs Donna Barr and Betty Bigelow. I even got to make Phil laugh a couple of times, which was a pleasure and a privilege -- it's good to be able to return the favor, even in a small way, to the man who's made me laugh so much and so often.
---
Shortly after midnight, we said our goodbyes and left for another party we'd been invited to. I'm afraid I didn't reaally know the hosts or most of the attendees, and I came to the conclusion within a few minutes that I didn't really want to, either; I've nothing against debauchery as a general rule, you understand, but something about this particular gathering just seemed, well, kind of tawdry to me. I'm afraid to say my mood crashed completely, and I wasn't in a position to be decent company to the people there I was happy to see, and for that I can't apologize enough. I spent the rest of my time there bored and irritated, just simply waiting to go home. The less said about that, the better.
---
In all, an extremely mixed set of blessings. All things considered, an entirely appropriate send-off to 2002.