Out With the Old Old Old, In With the NewPosted: January 1, 2008
I lifted my hands from the keyboard and leaned in close to the handwritten page. Surely, my eyes were sending my brain a wrong signal. I stared at the number, thinking I was seeing it wrong, but no, there it was, in plain English, recorded in the annals of business for the IRS and the Tennessee Department of Revenue to wonder about: Technical Service 12/27/04.
It was the last day of the year — 2007 — and I was typing invoices in QuickBooks, getting all transactions for the year in order for our business, reading my Employer/Husband’s notes. Reality hit me. He wrote 12/27/04. He has missed the last three years! They say time flies when you’re having fun.
We went to P. F. Chang’s last night, New Year’s Eve, and I ate too much fried rice, then reluctantly committed to eat one or two bites of the Six-Layer Chocolate Cake. We thought the layers would be thin, but we were served a slice of six regular layers equivalent to a whole cake. “This is embarrassing,” I said to the waiter. Couples at tables on both sides of us laughed, but graciously declined my husband’s offer to help us eat it. Needless to say, I slept the new year in uncomfortably, to the glad celebration of rockets and firecrackers outside my window. The spirit of early married days came back to me as I remembered one New Year’s Eve, maybe 1971, when two couples [me, being one of the four] dressed to the nines, went to a hotel in downtown Dallas, and crashed every ballroom party, laughing and interacting and pretending and eating from their tables — having fun on a shoestring. Ah, those were the days…
On this crisp, windy first day of 2008, I took the dog for a walk around the circle, then I put on my orange jacket, navy fleece touque, and the mittens I bought in Switzerland, and headed out on the neighborhood trail behind Wimbledon, through Clarendon, up the steep incline behind Wyndam Hill to Hillsboro Road. This flat Delta-born girl still doesn’t do hills well, and I could feel the pull and the hardening of my muscles that I used to use in tap, ballet, and acrobatics. When I got home, my cheeks were as red as those of the children I saw playing in front yards in Berne. It was 32 out.
We celebrated at Ken and Vicki’s traditional New Year’s Day Bash at 10 — cheery mimosas, the UT/Wisconsin game going full speed, and a spread of sausage and egg strata, almond rolls, pigs in a blanket, fruit, cheese grits, and coffee cake. They’ve been hosting an annual party since right after Nine Eleven, as an attempt to see the new year in with friends, to center on important things for a moment before we all get busy in post-holiday life.
Now, there are snowflakes outside my window! A dusting on cars and rooftops. A fresh new start for 2008.