There's an ongoing joke about New Year's Eve at the office and who will be awake when the new year arrives.
Once upon a time this was a night to look forward to staying up to ring in the new year, toast the one that passed, watch the ball drop in Times Square (with only Dick Clark then), discover what the No. 1 song was, a kiss and sometimes more at midnight or simply a hug.
With each passing year, it is supposed to get a little harder to stay awake to see to see the next brilliant and flashing Tiffany crystal ball slide down a pole while fireworks color a darkened sky, confetti rains down from the upper stories, horns blow, midnight well-wishers and party-goers pass along blessings, kisses and hugs. And people hum or sing Auld Lang Syne.
At midnight I will toast those who have come and gone, arrived again, and left something in the wake of my existence.
According to older reporters I work with, the glimpse into the next 10 years will reveal a struggle to stay awake as midnight nears. It will happen, they say. Like any younger person who received an ounce of wisdom from her elders, I look at them as if they've lost their mind. It isn't going to happen. Get real.
In 40-some years, I'm caught in the same trap of denial as I was when I was convinced I knew it all. I didn't listen then when my elders said age would catch up with me.
A year in bifocals have shown me the wrinkles and creases are a little more defined than I thought. No one ages overnight. In reality my eyesight wasn't keen enough to catch the deepening crows feet that started about three or four years ago. The joints are a little stiffer, but they aren't making as much noise as they probably could, amen. I missed what year the underbrush of gray hairs started to push their way into visibility. No wonder women love Clairol. It isn't just that white and gray hairs seem to multiply as fast as rabbits. It just makes it easier to move into middle age with fewer annoyances. I may consider giving up the lie that I'm really not 29 again, no matter how emphatically I say I am.
I was born a brunette who didn't have to find highlights in a bottle, because they came via the chlorine from AAU swim practices, days on the golf course, mornings on a tennis court, afternoon and weekend soccer games and some freak gene in my DNA that has apparently gone into hibernation. A muddier, uglier brown has surfaced at the roots and more and more sprinkles of gray are showing up. Why is it that salt and pepper hair on a man is so damn sexy and on a woman, it's just old? Or is it just me who thinks that way?
And then there's the mind. Is it possible I've reached the saturation point for learning, because I tend to be more forgetful now? Should that really bother me or could I find it more humorous rather than disrupting and annoying? It really isn't going to matter if I can complete most of a crossword puzzle or a sudoku chart successfully to keep my brain sharp. I am still going to forget that the keys are in my hand or right in front of me, or worse, where I left them last. I'm still going to wonder if I turned off the stove or lights before I left; if I locked whatever door; if I made the right turn; if I have working batteries or even charged them; if my socks match, or hope my pant legs are long enough to hide those socks just in case they aren't twins. And I'm still going to run a little later than I used to, just because.
I write a monthly column called This side of sanity, which should be subtitled what others don't tell you about age, or, more suiting -- Don't you wish you were 10 again?
Less than eight hours are left in a year for me when bifocals became a fashion statement; gray hairs are still highlights; the last time I lost my keys was a few hours ago, because I shoved them in a pocket and forgot; my socks still match; the oven is on; and I can't be late for anything, because I'm on vacation.
What I accomplished for resolutions can be found here, but what "This side of sanity" doesn't reveal is what I want to discover in 2010. I know a few people who have far more serious concerns than I do at the moment. Despite their bigger struggles, they have found a way to become more at peace with where they are as opposed to how pffffbtt I am with where I've arrived in my life. I think the trick is they've learned to be thankful and I haven't. They've found an inner strength from a God I'm just getting reacquainted with.
I am taking a different path into the new decade, instead of thinking I need to drop a gazillion pounds; or I will physically exercise three or four times a week; or I can suffocate one of my bad habits from existence; or I'll ditch all processed foods and become a multi-grain, granola-eating junkie; or I can give up some sinful pleasure like chocolate and peanut butter; or I will get out of debt both monetarily and spiritually; or remotely try to convince myself I am the pillar of patience.
I vow to enter 2010 and live a more positive life. I also promise I'm not giving up my playful and sarcastic nature. I will find something to be thankful for on a daily basis, even if it is just breathing. I hope to hold fewer grudges, but then I tend to forgive some great disasterous thing or person from my past yearly anyway even though the list never seems to get smaller.
I aim to have more fun and optimism. This may prove to be the toughest thing I do and maybe by the end of the year I will know why.
And if it all works out, I may end up with daily entries, whether it becomes simply a song that has hit me profoundly, moved me, made me dance or at least creak a move. It could be a photograph; or words; or even a little bit of a game I used to play when I blogged on 360 called Friday's Five.
Till then, fewer than eight hours are left to celebrate what is happening now. To all who pass by, stop in, stick around or leave -- Happy New Year and may 2010 bring you good experiences, fascinating acquaintances, stronger friendships and too much happiness so that you must share it with others.
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