Another year beats a path to the history books and,
frankly, I’m sorry to see it go. Unlike
so many years before it, 2014 and I got along just fine. Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for more out
of a year: Good health, good friends and
a home where I’ve never been happier. Best of all I finally found the perfect handbag and the perfect bra. Score
2014!
Now is the time we all start making those resolutions
few of us will keep. I’m making it easy
on myself. I’m resolving to do little that’s
different from last year. Why mess with success?
I am going to get my ass out of the chair and
moving a bit more. To that end, I’m
joining a hip-hop class starting in January that meets once a week. I like today’s music. I like to dance. I don’t like going to a gym.
Two thousand-fifteen is an impressive number for a
year. It never occurred to me as a child
that I would live to see such a date.
Although, had it occurred, I’m certain I would have expected a world
more akin to that of “The Jetsons” and
less “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”
I remember what a big deal it was when the clock
struck midnight in 1960, the first year I was old enough to appreciate the power of a zero. I got to stay up late and Mom made hot chocolate served in paper-thin China
cups with gold-leaf trim. On New Year’s
Eve 1970, I was at a Grateful Dead concert at the Fillmore loaded on weed. What a difference a decade makes.
Now, several decades later, I gather with friends
in front of the TV watching Kathy Griffin rip on Anderson Cooper until 9:00
p.m. (PST), and then off to bed because when the ball drops at midnight in New
York that’s good enough for me.
However you ring in the New Year, here’s hoping
that 2015 is everything you want it to be.
Happy New Year, my friends.
