In Retrospect

EDIT: Dave reminded me that my post "Peace be With You" was nominated for Best Blog Post in the Canadian Blog Awards. I squeaked through into Round Two, so if you'd like to vote for me that would be great. (If, of course, you think the other four posts are not as good as mine. You must vote with your conscience, and you only get one shot at each poll.)

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I have been sitting here for forty-five minutes halfheartedly clicking around the web, and I ended up on my own blog to answer the question (asked by myself - the only interested party) of how many New Year's Eve posts I have written.

One!

I'm surprised: I thought it would be more.

I read the post (from 2006, amazingly), then scrolled down to see a photo of my children from Christmas Day five years ago. A five year old and a two year old - how shocking.

As far as recording history goes, this blog isn't much use, is it? I guess the fact that it's public keeps it from having any kind of archival accuracy - I keep my children off the blog, mostly.

But look at this. Christmas week, 2006:

And Christmas week, 2011:

Can we all just sit and marvel for a moment at the lightning-swift passage of time?

A moment is all we have time for, though.

Happy New Year!

First Foot

We are off in half an hour to a neighbour's house. They are another household with a small child, so plans are afoot to set the clocks ahead three hours so we can all get to bed at a decent hour.

(Thing I Miss About Not Having Children, #34 - New Year's Eve)

At the last minute I realized that, if I were going to a neighbour's house on New Year's, for "snacks and drinks", I'd better bring some snacks and drinks. So, I threw a Bean Dip on the stove, dug an unopened Boursin out of the deli drawer, fished around for some Carr's table crackers, and made room in the freezer for my (alas) single bottle of lime Perrier and six Pepsis. "I'll just grab something out of the liquor cabinet," I said to myself as I furrowed my brow trying to remember where the liquor cabinet is. At last it came back to me and I opened the cabinet, blew the cobwebs off the dusty bottles, and took stock... depressing.

I'll bring the half-bottle of Captain Morgan, but I'm damned if I'm going to present to my hostess the following as my contribution to the evening:

1) a quarter cup of cherry brandy left over from my Singapore Sling afternoon with Megan six years ago;

2) the sticky-lidded bottle of Kahlua we brought with us when we moved to the interior in 2001....then brought with us when we moved back two years later, with the same amount inside it;

3) a third of a bottle of bitter Cinzano; or

4) the two tablespoons that remain of my Napoleon St. Remy brandy (kept for medicinal purposes. Troubled with the Norwalk virus? Pesky lactose intolerance won't leave you alone? Partook a little too freely of the Bean Dip your neighbour brought to your house on New Year's Eve? An ounce of this, an ounce of hot water, and toss it back. You'll be, as Vera Drake said, right as rain).

And, let's hope there's not some sort of curse you can bring on yourself by starting the New Year with a house that looks like ten orphaned children have been living in it for a month, or like the mighty finger of God has just reached down from the sky and stirred everything in it. Because, if so, I'm doomed.

Happy Hogmanay everybody. Sigh.