It has been said that in most cases, for events both good and bad, that the anticipation is often more dramatic than the event itself. While this is some mild comfort when anticipating a shot or unpleasant chore, it is not encouraging while awaiting a much-awaited festivity. To wit: This weekend promises to be filled with food, friends, and fun.
In somewhere between 10 minutes and 45 minutes, a friend of mine whom I met at another friend's wedding will arrive. The fellow getting married told me, "You have to meet this guy," and we hit it off instantly. He's just passing through, so we get to hang for a few hours, and then I must prepare for the granddaddy of all friended festivities-- the annual New Years' Bash.
Two gracious friends of mine fortunate enough to have a well-nigh palatial home atop a hill have invited dozens of their friends from across the country to spend New Years there for the last few years. I enjoy seeing most of these people, and having them all gathered in one place is overwhelming. And I'll be frying a huge batch of my infamous burritos to feed everyone for lunch, which means only that I'll want more time to hang out with people there-- so many friends I never see.
But I may not even be spending the full three days there, because I must hie myself* off to yet another gathering, where many of my crows' nest cronies will be coagulating in Connecticut. I've told a few folks this week that I really need roughly a month before next Monday, as I could gladly spend a week or more at each of these festivities, and anticipate an amazing time.
And yet, how can anything possibly live up to my expectations for this week? In the past, though half the time has indeed been a blissful reuning with friends, I've also spent hours during this gathering-- this rare gathering of friends from afar-- sitting in a corner talking to myself. Or sometimes conferring with myself.**
But even if an odd hour is spent in omphaloskepsis, I am certain that I will enjoy the next week. A car in the driveway-- it starts NOW!