New for Old

Last night we went out for a New Year’s Eve celebration for the first time in about 15 years. My soon-to-be sister-in-law found tickets for a local comedy show. There were six of us for dinner, drinks and laughs.

The dinner was mediocre. The comedian was quite funny at times, but I am not much of a drinker-two beers are my limit. Merle had one beer, as he was the driver. We enjoyed laughing and chatting. But when the comedian was done, the music was turned up and it was nearly impossible to have a conversation. Then I started to yawn-rudely and uncontrollably.

We ended up leaving at around 11, and were home by 11:30. A peck of a kiss at midnight and we were both asleep as fireworks could be heard somewhere in the distance.

Romantic? Not so much.

Exciting? No.

Wild? No.

Practical? Yes.

The traffic on the highways soon after midnight on NYE scares me. I know too well how many drunks are on the roads on any given night, let alone on NYE. I feel much more comfortable being back at home before they head out on the road. This is a somewhat rural area where heavy drinking is often a major element of any celebration. I’m just not interested in being part of the tragic ending to their holiday.

It was fun to be out, and it was nice to spend time with my brother, his fiancee, and her sister and brother-in-law.  We really don’t go out much, and realized that we need to do so more often. That is one of our hopes for the next year It just wasn’t a good night to start. I’ve learned a few things in my day.

Ah, yes, I still keep myself open to learning new things. In fact, I learned something new yesterday.

It made me realize that I am out of touch, stupid, or just plain old. This is the year for a major “zero” birthday. I am soon to reach the point that I will be hard-pressed to justify any thought that I am not old. This conversation didn’t help.

I was talking with a couple of young ladies who had come into our office for the day with their mothers. They are 8 and nearly 7 years old. Somehow, our conversation included counting the number of reindeer on Santa’s sleigh. I started naming off the reindeer. “Dasher and Dancer. and……Blitzen. And of course, Rudolph, so that is nine” I explained.

“No”, the eight year old told me, “you forgot Olive”.

I was confused. “Olive?”

“Yes” she told me confidently, “Olive, the other reindeer”.

That one really made me laugh. In all of these years, I had never tumbled onto that.

And with that, I enter the new year of 2015 (my god, how can that be?) humbled and full of hope that there are new things for me to learn and enjoy.

Happy New Year to you!

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