the Eve of what? A new year? Who says. The new year used to begin in March, in or around the Spring Equinox--when new life was beginning. Julius Caesar and some Pope named Gregory decided to change up the calendar and now we celebrate the new year in the dark of winter. Poor misguided souls, Jules and Greg!
If you read my Face Book post today, you will have learned that I don't care much for new year's Eve. I just don't see how anyone can get excited about losing another year of their life. Or is it that they celebrate the coming of a whole new year to a better life?
HA! Life only gets better when WE decide to make it better. Forget resentments, forgive others for being mean, and get in touch with what our souls really need. That doesn't magically happen on new years, no matter how many resolutions you make. It can happen in March or June, or for me--on a starry night in August 2012, sitting alone on my front porch and realizing that I could not control all the bad things that had been done to me by others, but to forgive, truly forget and from that moment on, forge a new way of thinking and living.
As for new year's eve--how I hated that night. The dances and parties we went to as a married couple. The first hour was fun, for me, then my friends started to feel the effects of the alcohol they had consumed, and things got stupid. SOME normally nice men were propositioning other men's wives. Normally nice, refined women, were slobbering and sitting on other women's husbands laps. It seemed to this non-drinker as a bacchanal to end all bacchanal's!
They say alcohol is a depressant. Why would any normal person want to take something that made them depressed? Or, just maybe, alcohol is a repressent? It represses common sense and turns normal people into wildly, stupid human beings?
I say a man, whom everyone "thought" was a loving husband and father of 5 young girls, slap his wife around at one of these parties. "Drunk", they all said, "or he wouldn't have done such a thing."
Yeah right! When later questioned about any of these antics, the EXCUSE was always, "I was so drunk I don't even remember."
Of course, being the ONLY non-drinker in the group, I was the designated driver for some of the party-goers. GOOD GRIEF! Stopping every few miles to let one or more open the car door to retch and vomit. Such fun!
When I deposited all the, by then, moaning party goers at their homes and got my own husband into bed, he had to lay with one foot on the floor to "keep the bed from spinning." Did I lay quietly beside him so as not to disturb the bed? Is the Pope Jewish?
Oh heck no. I rolled and tossed and made that bed jiggle and jolt until Dear Hubs had to get up and drape himself over the Porcelain Throne for the rest of the night. I'd find him curled around said Throne, on the cold, tiled bathroom floor New Year's morning and I'd call out with a hearty and loud cheer of, "HAPPY NEW YEAR'S! Would you like fried eggs for breakfast?"
She who laughs last, laughs all day long.