Today is New Year's Eve Day.
I could easily end this post right there for all it means to me.
New Years, like Halloween, is one of those holidays I really would like to enjoy, but always seems to end up being a disappointment. "We'll do something special next year." I can count maybe four or at most five New Year's Eves that have had any real significance or fun to them.
My pal MathGuy and I used to love to go into Boston for First Night. We'd start at four or five o'clock in the afternoon and run all around town with a copy of Parade magazine under our arm. The pages would have circles around the performances, vignettes, and displays we wanted to see and our schedule and route was all mapped out. I recall one year when we ended our windings in Back Bay and then had to sprint down to Custom's House for the laser light show and the fireworks. I think we dang near covered all of Boston in about 8 minutes on that run.
I'd love to do First Night again, and I would, except for one constant and invasive fact: New Year's Eve is always the coldest night of the year. Take this week. A few days ago it was 65 degrees (F). The day after it was 50. What is the temperature expected to be tonite? 12. Yes, twelve. I mean, c'mon? Who wants to walk around anywhere in twelve degree weather? It takes you 30 minutes to get a coffee at Dunk's with these crowds, and you can pretty much forget about ever seeing a bathroom, so how does a guy take his girl out, effectively, in twelve degree weather?
Maybe I'll wait for the Chinese New Year, or perhaps the Jewish one to celebrate. I'm pretty sure one of those happens in the Spring.