It's only been a week and, am not putting away my party hat just yet.

Half-finished books. Pages filled with words half-formed. Tarts that once stood witness to flailing diets, their obituaries now written on discarded foil. Ashtrays that know once the night falls, they'll have company to keep.

Vows to say Love You more and make passionate declarations less, settle with the ice in the glass. Dusty scrapbooks and dustier images to resurrect. Along with rusty memories to only bite the dust. With scary, speedy efficiency.

Old ways, familiar patterns and white lies. Because in the end, it's all much too easy.

What Resolution? Here's to a garishly shiny, spanking new year. New Year!

And you thought I was only Grey.

Who's afraid of a lil' color?!

Layovers. And The Stiff Drink One Needs.

It was a tune he played often. Many times a day, and it always earned him the biggest tips.

She while racking up the miles and nursing a heartache, always looked forward to a delay. Hoping.

Between the coins in the tip-jar and loud announcements, it was easy to miss the star-crossed lovers. Forgiven even.

Stop. Don't you see it's Red?

It took my turning Thirty (gulp) to finally try 'red lips'. Try I did, and how. There's just been no looking back since.

Having always pined for a different time (you know I've always had a thing for Fifties-Sixties), I haven't exactly been immune to the allure, the charm of red lips, being that the women of the time sported the hue with just the right panache and studied nonchalance. 

I love the coquettishness of it. The sexuality. That it can be gauche and vulgar. Sophisticated and timeless. That it means power and confidence. That it means being all Woman.

Not being one who was ever comfortable with too much attention (don't let my husband tell you otherwise), am certainly surprised how taken I am by the hue. Turning older definitely had something to do with it. Let's face it, we all turn into world-weary, world-wise women a lot sooner than what our parents ever gave us credit for. But the truth is, it took me all of three decades to become the woman I am today. And that woman sure isn't shy of red.

Forget the fact that it brightens up a dreary day or simply turns heads... The fact is, I like who I become when I wear it.

Kiss. Kiss.

Ply me with wine. But, romance me with words. Your words.