I remember when New Year’s was a real whoop. Lots of booze, champagne and French kissing at midnight accompanied by fireworks.
I’m getting old. I hate parties now where everyone is forced into a false gaiety (in my eyes) and now spend New Year’s with a couple of friends. This year showed me how truly sapped I am.
It started out okay, some good drinks, looking forward to the fireworks at midnight I had insisted on buying (despite the year before when one fell over and chased me around the yard), champagne in the fridge all ready to go.
We decided to watch a movie which was depolorable as we had our drinks. (Anyone who thinks the Hangover was funny must be a guy. My brother recommended it). These older people watch movies instead of wearing party hats and blowing tooters. At ten, I looked over and saw that two out of the four of us were asleep. I don’t even think it was the movie. They just hit their bedtime and that was that. The only other awake person and I looked at each other, headed to the fireplace and continued chatting and imbibing, but knew we were fading fast. We made it to twelve, but I was so wasted (not necessarily by alcohol, but by fatigue) it was all we could do to wake the other two, and wish a muted Happy New Year. I didn’t even have the energy to put on the firework display and no one wanted the nice Moet Chandon champagne. Everyone went to bed.
I had a friend tell me yesterday not to feel badly. Ten is the new midnight for those of us over fifty. Still, it is the year 2010, a new decade, and I feel like I ripped myself off some. I remember the year 2000 and the excitement it generated in everyone. I went with a friend to the city hall, and we stood in the freezing cold (in addition she was from California – very cold for her) and listened to music, enjoyed the fireworks at midnight and kissed strangers who may have had god knows what disease. It was a celebration.
But here we are. Ten years later and old fogies. I hate it. My blood sugar sucks from all that Christmas candy and booze (I’m not a big boozer by the way) and fatigue from opening too many presents. Then the Christmas tree has to come down (we wait until ‘little Christmas’ on the 6th). I dread it.
I have past my prime. Although my head says I haven’t my body betrays me. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t an awful New Year’s Eve, and it was a fabulous Christmas. It was just – well – not like the New Year’s Eves of the past. I guess I better get used to it.
Yesterday we spent a day with a couple of friends, drank the champagne, and had a grand time. That was more of a New Year's celebration than the one on the 31st. We were home and in bed by - you got it - 10 o'clock. Though the box of fireworks remains unopened.
Nonetheless, for you of stamina, a Happy New Year to all, and I hope you tooted your tooters loudly and French kissed everyone.