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Happy New Year!

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  ! So far, 2007 feels pretty familiar—but in a good way.   A month ago I devoted a whole entry to my friends’ New Years Eve wedding. I was, as is my wont, worrying over nothing. It was a great party, a cozy gathering of well-lubed friends. And while I didn’t dance with Prince […]

January 2, 2007


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!
So far, 2007 feels pretty familiar—but in a good way.
 
A month ago I devoted a whole entry to my friends’ New Years Eve wedding. I was, as is my wont, worrying over nothing. It was a great party, a cozy gathering of well-lubed friends. And while I didn’t dance with Prince Charming, I also didn’t dart off before midnight, teary-eyed and trailing footwear. In fact, I darn near saw the sunrise.
 
On the “bring a date or no” conundrum, everyone who weighed in—that is, both of them—recommended I go stag (aside from Unnamed Male Acquaintance, also known around these parts as my “Cheetah Club boyfriend,” who jokingly suggested he accompany me. He didn’t want to miss the open bar—not that I blame him). The consensus seemed to be, “Weddings are great places to meet people.” Yeah, so is speed dating.
 
That evening of the wedding, as promised, I was seated at the hockey table, alongside teammates determined to live up to our reputation as lunatics. Dressed to the nines but still irretrievably dirty, we had entirely too much fun making an obscene snowman, dubbed “Happy,” out of balls of butter—then positioning him on the wedding party’s table. (Really, Corinne and Brian should’ve known better than to include gherkins among the hors d’ouvres.)
 
At midnight, after the DJ presented a somewhat perplexing video retrospective of 20th century America (clips of JFK and Saving Private Ryan, aaaand happy New Year?), we had some champagne, went a little nutso with the streamers, and kept right on with the party.
 
The real lesson here is the beauty of nothing-too-grand. I tend to get way too excited about any events that are even slightly out of the ordinary—holidays and weddings among them. Some idealistic little part of me assumes, deus ex machina, all my problems will be resolved by the end of the night. They never are, of course. But I’m learning to look forward to the real fun—like accompanying my newlywed (and still formally attired) friends to a beachfront bar, or hiking a mile to Waffle House at 4 a.m., or sleeping solo in a hotel room for the very first time.
 
I’ll present a few more of my New Years resolutions later in the week, but for now, let’s put “plan for small happinesses“ at the top of the list.