Four o'clock and already the sun is hanging just above the horizon, being quickly pulled down by the dastardly hands of winter. It is a far cry from where it was 6 months, when, instead of pyjamas and hot chocolate, we were dressed in shorts and drinking an icy cold drink. It seems like it was an age ago.
I'm still dragged down by my cold, but on the positive side, Spike is getting better at bringing me a tissue… I should be in pretty good shape by tomorrow - New Years Eve! At least I hope so. Worst comes to worst I'll sit in-state and let everyone else do the work, of which there will be very little since I'm ordering Chinese food for the bulk of the meal.
Yesterday was our 4th year anniversary of retirement, and I didn't even feel well enough to pop open the bottle of bubbles that we had chilling in the fridge. Now that's sick! (not sick in the newfangled slang way that means really good).
I did drag myself out to the grocery store with Carm - I wanted to make sure we had a bag of proper Ruffles chips as I THINK one of my guests likes chips just a bit, but never has them because she is on a constant diet - well! I'm pretty sure New Years Eve will constitute enough reason to have a little cheat! I even got sour cream to make the good old standby chip dip: sour cream & onion soup mix. Hey there 70s!
Speaking of 70s, I remember the feasts that mom would leave Kirsten and a friend when she and dad left for their party. Starting when I was 12 and Kirsten 7 - mom would let me have a friend over (Jackie Porter), and would lay out a table with all manner of junk food. Chips, jello, cheesies, pop and goodness knows what else would adorn the little brown card table set up in the family room. We'd stagger from the sofa to the card table, little cups of coke or rootbeer sloshing (not on the rug of course). Instead of a booze hangover, I'd feel awful the next day from such awful food and lack of sleep. It became my tradition to overeat and in later years, over drink, to bring in the new year. The food got better, but excess and late nights were still required. It seemed like it might be good luck to feel so rotten the first day of the year - kinda like it was the worst I was going to feel all year, so it was better to just get it over with.
I wonder if I'll wear a party dress tomorrow night? In years past, I've worn all manner of crazy dresses on New Years - old bridesmaids dresses are da bomb. I have a beautiful gold shot-silk dress that I may just dig out of the closet. Or jeans. Or pyjamas. Yea! That's the ticket - I'll make it a pyjama party :-)
Youth is when you're allowed to stay up late on New Year's Eve. Middle age is when you're forced to. ~Bill Vaughan