The reasons rarely matter
Another NYE and NYDay Brunch has come and gone, and while various infection vectors cut the usual numbers by a considerable percentage (meaning there was *WAY* too much food, but it's really *good* food, so I'm not complaining about the leftovers situation even one whibble), it was a most excellent gathering of people near and dear to my heart. Many were missed, but between The Plague(s) and TWO serious Tribe/KWLT/etc parties within 48 hours of each other, never mind the number of us who lost some or all of that day in between because of hangovers, it's no surprise the numbers were down.
Every year, someone looks at the table especially, and asks me *why* I put in this much effort. Well, part of it is the inherent joy of a social gathering, some of it is how I raised to view hospitality and hosting and food (all of which I was raised to take very seriously), some of it is a weird kind of hopefulness that comes with most rollings from the old year into the new. This year it was mostly the return of that joy and hopefulness, which I have not had going into the holiday season for a while now thanks to various issues complicating my own emotional investments in the process. I *like* putting in this effort for this one night a year, when I can, much like I am coming to with the much smaller "family Thanksgiving dinner". They both serve to share what I have, especially in terms of my time and my space, with the people I care about most.
Ultimately, it boils down to, "I do this because I want to". The meaning varies sometimes from year to year, and while it's a lot of work to pull off this event (especially mostly single-handedly in the prepwork), it has *never* not been worth the effort. This comes back to me manifold from feedback from friends who consistently choose to be here, whether it's for the entire night, as a stop on the NYE Party Circuit, or, as in the case of poor mylostmarbles tore herself from her sick bed to do a fly-by in time for midnight (and frankly, many of us braved the infection vector to give her a hug accordingly).
It's like one night a year I'm guaranteed an opportunity to recharge the social batteries in the best way: to remember how to laugh, to remember what it's like to touch and be touched, hold and be held, to arrange a social mixer where my friends get to meet each other and maybe see some of the coolness I see in each and every one of them. It's pretty glorious, it really is.
And the best part of the marvel that is the planning and execution of this gig is that once the leftover food is dealt with (by far and away the most complicated part of the aftermath), the overall cleanup, including brunch, takes maybe 90 minutes, between doing the garbage collection, the minimal washup of the serviceware (ah, the pervading joy of disposable dishware), and the eventual disassembly of the buffet table. I do the washing up right after brunch, and everything else gets dealt with in the same kind of multi-day easy approach the ramp-up does. It's good to have the time to do this without stress; I'm not sure I'd be able to pull this off the same way if there was anything compressing my timeline. (Yes, technically I work tomorrow, but it's from home so there will be plenty of time on breaks to deal with bits and pieces of needful tasks.)
Someday I might learn how to throw a simple party, but NYE will almost certainly never be it, and since it seems like my birthday might become an excuse to return to the legendary themed parties of yore (but no "clothing-optional tobogganing" parties in May, alas), that's probably not going to be it either. (The Boxed Wine & Boxed Movie events don't count as simple either, given that I completely rearrange my living/dining room and rewire my home theatre system for those, so... yeah :)
As long as my friends continue to rock my world, I suspect I will continue to honour them in the best ways I know how. I can't speak for the rest of my guests, but the sheer amount of joy *I* get out of this makes everything completely worthwhile, and all the rest of the varying reasons largely moot. And that's pretty much how it should be, if you ask me.
Every year, someone looks at the table especially, and asks me *why* I put in this much effort. Well, part of it is the inherent joy of a social gathering, some of it is how I raised to view hospitality and hosting and food (all of which I was raised to take very seriously), some of it is a weird kind of hopefulness that comes with most rollings from the old year into the new. This year it was mostly the return of that joy and hopefulness, which I have not had going into the holiday season for a while now thanks to various issues complicating my own emotional investments in the process. I *like* putting in this effort for this one night a year, when I can, much like I am coming to with the much smaller "family Thanksgiving dinner". They both serve to share what I have, especially in terms of my time and my space, with the people I care about most.
Ultimately, it boils down to, "I do this because I want to". The meaning varies sometimes from year to year, and while it's a lot of work to pull off this event (especially mostly single-handedly in the prepwork), it has *never* not been worth the effort. This comes back to me manifold from feedback from friends who consistently choose to be here, whether it's for the entire night, as a stop on the NYE Party Circuit, or, as in the case of poor mylostmarbles tore herself from her sick bed to do a fly-by in time for midnight (and frankly, many of us braved the infection vector to give her a hug accordingly).
It's like one night a year I'm guaranteed an opportunity to recharge the social batteries in the best way: to remember how to laugh, to remember what it's like to touch and be touched, hold and be held, to arrange a social mixer where my friends get to meet each other and maybe see some of the coolness I see in each and every one of them. It's pretty glorious, it really is.
And the best part of the marvel that is the planning and execution of this gig is that once the leftover food is dealt with (by far and away the most complicated part of the aftermath), the overall cleanup, including brunch, takes maybe 90 minutes, between doing the garbage collection, the minimal washup of the serviceware (ah, the pervading joy of disposable dishware), and the eventual disassembly of the buffet table. I do the washing up right after brunch, and everything else gets dealt with in the same kind of multi-day easy approach the ramp-up does. It's good to have the time to do this without stress; I'm not sure I'd be able to pull this off the same way if there was anything compressing my timeline. (Yes, technically I work tomorrow, but it's from home so there will be plenty of time on breaks to deal with bits and pieces of needful tasks.)
Someday I might learn how to throw a simple party, but NYE will almost certainly never be it, and since it seems like my birthday might become an excuse to return to the legendary themed parties of yore (but no "clothing-optional tobogganing" parties in May, alas), that's probably not going to be it either. (The Boxed Wine & Boxed Movie events don't count as simple either, given that I completely rearrange my living/dining room and rewire my home theatre system for those, so... yeah :)
As long as my friends continue to rock my world, I suspect I will continue to honour them in the best ways I know how. I can't speak for the rest of my guests, but the sheer amount of joy *I* get out of this makes everything completely worthwhile, and all the rest of the varying reasons largely moot. And that's pretty much how it should be, if you ask me.