Ah, New Year’s. Sometimes New Year’s feels like a bit of a weird competition, what with the fancy parties, and the resolutions, and the staying up until midnight, which is a mighty challenge for me. I tend to react to New Year’s somewhat indifferently. Meh, it’s New Year’s. Tonight I plan on celebrating Newfoundland New Year’s, which means that in Newfoundland it is midnight when it is 8:30 in Calgary. So I’m going to get my party on and still make it to bed by ten. So, if you’re someone who is feeling somewhat bitter about your particular celebration – it’s not quite fancy enough, or exotic enough for the ringing in of not only a new year but a new decade – you can think of my celebration and perhaps feel a bit better?
The truth is I like it that way. Also, it is an enormous improvement on my celebration last year. Last year I – by myself – drank a bottle of red wine, ate a giant plate of nachos, and watched Anne of Green Gables – The Sequel on Access. My husband and the kids were sick, so that’s why the wild solo party.
I wonder if I made any resolutions. I can’t really remember. Maybe I made a whole list and kept them all, and I don’t even know it. I know I accomplished things; for example, I got measured for my actual bra size, and when they picked me up off the floor from the shock of how deflated I am, I bought a bikini. I took both kids to a clay sculpture class, and I survived. I fixed the gutters! I made the world’s worst gingerbread house! So let’s just say that those were my resolutions, and I kept every last one of them.
Retroactive resolutions is the best idea EVER, because WHO WOULD EVEN KNOW? No one, that’s who.