I can tell the economy is soft--we've had 3 babysitters call and offer up their services for tonight. Things must be tough if the teen set prefers a night working to a night out. We're a lame bunch at my house--after 6 years of tending bar, the last place I want to go is "out" on New Year's Eve. Truly, people, it's amateur night and it is ugly out there. Then for many years we've been on the road to celebrate Christmas with Mr. D's family in Iowa (the arrangement is they get the weekend after Christmas), so we don't have any standing tradition. This year we're renting a family movie and grilling steaks. Alone. Just the five of us. Mr. G will fall asleep before the halfway point of whatever we rent. The rest of us will go to bed by ten and the only way I'll see midnight to "greet in the New Year" will be if I have to get up and pee. No noisemakers, no case of cheap champagne, no watching Dick Clark count down to midnight, no parade of memories across the TV screen, no kissing.
"Looking back" is something I'm loath to do--I prefer to leave my past behind me, but 2008 treated me pretty darn well. Saying goodbye to one year always leaves me nostalgic for a moment, and I'm not terribly excited about entering a new year since it takes me 5 weeks to remember how to write the correct date on a check.
When I was young I'd listen to Casey Kasem count down the top hits of the previous year on my Panasonic boom box. Would Madonna or Prince have the number one hit? I'd wish to fast forward through REO Speedwagon and Rick Springfield (in spots 22 and 23) so I could find out. In a good year I'd get to have a friend sleep over and we'd lie in sleeping bags on either side of the radio, anxious to know what song was most popular. I'd think about older people who had the freedom of car keys and money--they were certainly out on New Year's Eve celebrating in style. My fantasy was to wear a slinky dress (yes, I was influenced by disco) and high heels, feather back my hair and spend New Year's Eve at a club dancing and drinking something sparkley in a stemmed glass, and of course kissing someone handsome when the clock began to chime. (A clock that loomed over the dance floor and disco ball.) Gah! The idea now horrifies me! High heels? Staying out late?
I guess I wanted to spend New Year's Eve as Donna Summer when I was young. Now I'm all grown up and I want to spend New Year's Eve like Edith Bunker. I hope your New Year's Eve is great, no matter how you choose to spend it.