I spent the dawning of 2004 standing on a rock in Central Park, holding my dog’s ears closed as she cowered in my boyfriend’s coat, terrified of the fireworks almost directly overhead. I only wanted to bring Goblin so we had an excuse to leave early, but it did not work, and she was unnecessarily traumatized. As was I, come to think of it . . . by a woman with The Most Obnoxious Voice Ever, who stood behind us, making drunken toasts and shrieking about how we should all watch the fireworks reflected in the windows on Central Park West, rather than look at them directly.

In other news, it is Day Three of South Beach, and can think of nothing but food. Today at lunch, I actually became hungrier as I ate my chicken salad. I understand that it takes a few days for the cravings to go away, but I have already eaten more string cheese in the past three days than I have in my entire life, and it has not helped even a little bit. I am cantankerous, desultory, unmotivated, and continually drowsy. In other words, welcome to Thursday. But this week, I have something to pin it on.

Yesterday evening, I saw Big Fish. The valuable life lesson I took away from this languidly appealing film was: Stay Away from Big Fish. Or perhaps I missed the point because I was too busy trying to inhale other people’s popcorn.

Happy New Year!