Sunday Scribblings Post-Prompt "New"
New
When New Year's Eve rolls around, we find ourselves with more invitations than we can even begin to accept. So many people we know are throwing parties. It has always struck me as a little odd to celebrate the close of every year, mostly because not every year feels all that monumental and, therefore, deserving of celebration. If it's a year that's been particularly awful, I would prefer to put it out of my mind rather than giving it a farewell party.
After the celebrations that we've attended, for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, I honestly feel completely partied out and don't know if I'm capable of engaging in any more revelry. I am, after all, very consistently classified by the Myers-Briggs tests as an Introvert. I'm very fortunate that I have found someone who understands that it doesn't mean anti-social, it just means that when I have had my fill of people I just need some quiet time to recharge and not have to deal with them much. It's been a part of my personality that I have had a lot of difficulty explaining and gets misunderstood far more often than I'd like.
So, this year, we decline offers politely with out offering any excuses or making up any little white lies to spare feelings. We simply demur by saying that we have “other plans” without going into specifics. No one presses us or demands that we attend any events. The evening is spent quietly, with him watching the football games that he wants to see and me reading one of the new books that I got for Christmas. We eat some leftovers to clean out the fridge that has been stuffed full since just before the holidays and augment it with some frozen pizza. We go for a walk together, and then, after we return to the house, I take out some luminarias that I made.
They're simple, just white paper that I used a very cool star paper punch on in an all over design. I've got some little battery-operated candles that I use, because burning real candles sets off my allergies. I put them on the coffee table and turn out the lights. We sit together on the couch, just watching the lights flicker while we wait for midnight to finally approach.
We talk about our favorite parts of the last year and about what we want from the new year. We talk about places that we'd like to go and things that we would like to make, along with stories that we want to tell. He gets up, briefly, and comes back toting a bottle of sparkling white grape juice and a pair of wine glasses. He pours us each some and we settle back onto the sofa, our feet propped on the coffee table. The New Year is ushered in quietly, with a kiss and artificial candlelight, and, even though it's not loud and doesn't seem like a big deal, it feels absolutely perfect.
When New Year's Eve rolls around, we find ourselves with more invitations than we can even begin to accept. So many people we know are throwing parties. It has always struck me as a little odd to celebrate the close of every year, mostly because not every year feels all that monumental and, therefore, deserving of celebration. If it's a year that's been particularly awful, I would prefer to put it out of my mind rather than giving it a farewell party.
After the celebrations that we've attended, for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, I honestly feel completely partied out and don't know if I'm capable of engaging in any more revelry. I am, after all, very consistently classified by the Myers-Briggs tests as an Introvert. I'm very fortunate that I have found someone who understands that it doesn't mean anti-social, it just means that when I have had my fill of people I just need some quiet time to recharge and not have to deal with them much. It's been a part of my personality that I have had a lot of difficulty explaining and gets misunderstood far more often than I'd like.
So, this year, we decline offers politely with out offering any excuses or making up any little white lies to spare feelings. We simply demur by saying that we have “other plans” without going into specifics. No one presses us or demands that we attend any events. The evening is spent quietly, with him watching the football games that he wants to see and me reading one of the new books that I got for Christmas. We eat some leftovers to clean out the fridge that has been stuffed full since just before the holidays and augment it with some frozen pizza. We go for a walk together, and then, after we return to the house, I take out some luminarias that I made.
They're simple, just white paper that I used a very cool star paper punch on in an all over design. I've got some little battery-operated candles that I use, because burning real candles sets off my allergies. I put them on the coffee table and turn out the lights. We sit together on the couch, just watching the lights flicker while we wait for midnight to finally approach.
We talk about our favorite parts of the last year and about what we want from the new year. We talk about places that we'd like to go and things that we would like to make, along with stories that we want to tell. He gets up, briefly, and comes back toting a bottle of sparkling white grape juice and a pair of wine glasses. He pours us each some and we settle back onto the sofa, our feet propped on the coffee table. The New Year is ushered in quietly, with a kiss and artificial candlelight, and, even though it's not loud and doesn't seem like a big deal, it feels absolutely perfect.