New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day are not really a big deal to me. Most of my ponderings having to do with acomplisment, friendship and achieving my goals happen in November. Perhaps it's because every November I get a little bit older. Maybe it is influenced by my plans for a birthday surrounded by people who love me. (This year, I didn’t throw myself a party, it was just me and my clan, and some warm fondue.) But no matter the reason, most of my soul searching and checklists toward a better me happen before Christmas, rather than after. So New Year’s Resolutions seem to be robbed of originality.
Besides not being a time of deep soul searching resolutions, it is also not a huge deal to me in the party aspect. Missing a friends birthday party due to sickness could possibly result in me throwing a childish fit. (Hypothetically, of course.) Being late to a Christmas party when you’re with me: bad idea. But when asked about a New Year’s Party, my response is something like, “Hmmm, that sounds nice. Maybe we’ll be there.” Same basic friends, even better food. So what’s the deal? It's just New Year’s. I’m just not in love with it. It doesn’t hold the same magic for me as snow-sparkled-Christmas or my soul searching birthday. Its just New Year’s.
But here is the paradox. I am a list maker. A graph paper junkie. A checklist queen. And a glutton for good company.
So despite everything already stated, I must admit that I have been revisiting my goals for this year.
And it may go with out saying, but I will be spending some time tonight with Fondue. Oh, and with some friends too. (Obviously, I have my priorities straight.) I may even stay up till twelve. Other wise, I will just kiss my honey one extra time when we curl up under the covers, to hide from the January coldness.
Because really, I don’t care much about the new year.
I don't really look forward to staying up til 12.
I’m just in it for the fondue, the friends, and the kiss.