"It's all fun and games till someone gets trichinosis."

Oh the Two-Thousand-Sex resolutions. Honestly, I never really have any hardcore goals with the start of each year because goals should be ongoing regardless of whether it's January. And, well, the resolutions people tend to set for themselves fall along predictable lines -- lose weight, spend less money, and do xyz with aplomb. There's nothing worse than big proclamations that fizzle out somewhere during the third week of January. That disdain aside, I'm going to set some resolutions. (No, J-Wo, I'm not going to quantify them.)

As sad as it is, my main resolution is to not be single. (I cringe admitting this.) Look, I'm tired of being conspicuously unattached during holidays. It's. Been. Three. Years. Folks. Seriously. Maybe that's my problem -- maybe I'm so focused on meeting someone that it won't happen. Or maybe I haven't been focused enough. The tarot cards stress patience and I say I've been far too patient.

So, my goal is to be a loose, amoral woman. In addition to that, I have foodie resolutions for 2006 -- cook more, try out more recipes in my dusty copy of Nigel Slater's Appetite, and splurge once on a high profile New York restaurant (Per Se? Le Bernardin?). Holly has similar ideas for 2006 -- she wants to learn how to cook. I'm going to do my part to reducate her.

I think dinner last night was the first salvo in her resolution. She had me over for Indian meatballs with yogurt -- a recipe she wanted to try out. There were some comedic moments when I had to correct some of her technique, but it's all about the baby steps. While eating dinner, I was reminded that getting over Holly needs to make one of my 2006 resolutions. Every time I think I've moved on, the feelings come creeping back. Damn damn damn. Also didn't help that she had a freudian slip and said "I love you" when I think she meant to say something completely different.