Here it comes again, the day it’s obligatory to have a rollicking good time.

Why, I’m not so sure. Perhaps because the passage of the years can be depressing, especially after the age of forty or so. Or perhaps it’s because we have to learn to write a different number on our checks, just when we’ve finally gotten used to the old one.

And then there’s the drinking. In previous years, I offered this hangover recipe for the day after, even though I (she says smugly) don’t really drink.

As for tonight, I’m planning to journey to one of those towns that has decided to ignore the fact that New Years Eve occurs in winter, and that the venue is New England, and so it’s usually so cold that no one wants to go anywhere. But go we do, to a place where the local kidees show off their talents, and the local musicians and actors and clowns and what-have-yous do the same, only less cutely.

I remember one memorable New Years Eve of -5 degrees and not inconsiderable wind; whatever was I thinking going out? This year the forecast is not nearly that bad. I’ll go out, I’ll walk around, I’ll see some folks, I’ll come back in. Sounds like a plan.

And then there are the resolutions. This year I’ve fastened on a single one: to go to bed earlier. But just cause there’s only one doesn’t mean I’ll have any less trouble keeping it. I’ve always been a tremendous nightowl, and being a blogger hasn’t helped me any in my (admittedly weak) efforts to change my nightowl proclivities.

And a very HAPPY NEW YEAR to all of you!