A brief history of events

The expansive hiatus from the writing desk over the last few weeks was not so much for dearth of subject matter, but rather an accute absence of time. Today finds me all huddles and snuggled and, if truth be told, rather grumpy.

Mostly because of the weather's rather inconsiderate return to winter norm. I'm embarrassed to say I'd grown rather fond of the spell of global warming which was keeping temperatures in the city up in the balmy 20s (C). The warmth had lulled me into a false sense of security so that when I woke up this morning to a frosty chill, I felt somewhat the jilted lover.

But then on the other hand, what better day to stay in, hide from the world, and update ye ol' blog, eh.

A surprising amount of activity snowballed into us (me 'n' mah hood, ya know) during the last few weeks.

First, there was Doobie's surprise birthday bash. A nice intimate dinner, friends gathering at a nearby bar, an exclaiming and squealing Doobie - safe to say, it turned out exactly as planned. As all our friends gathered together at the bar, the realisation hit both Doobie and me at the same time: These were our new friends we had met over the past year. This was the life we had built for ourselves. New York really had grown into our new home. It was an overwhelming, heart-swelling, tear-welling kind of moment. If it hadn't seemed too dorky (given that it was, after all, Doobie's birthday not mine), I might have dappled in a bit of misty-eyed sentimentalism of my own.



And then, there was Thanksgiving weekend in Vermont. A perfect little chalet, a spot of winter skiing, an immaculate Thanksgiving meal (courtesy of Jenn and Sarah, I must concede), a ten-hour prolonged bout of Trivial Pursuit (never let it be said that I'm not tenacious).