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Happy New Year:

When I was a kid, I was fascinated with Fin de siecle Victorian history. The wondrous fashions, the absolutist conviction that progress was good and splendid, the florid literary styles–the whole darn thing fascinated me. I was a big fan of the Little House books, because they covered the life of a young pioneer girl who settled in a similar part of the country to where I lived, and to whose life I could often relate, as certain aspects of rural, midwestern life hadn’t really changed that drastically in a hundred years, especially if your folks were kind of hippies and were into subsistence, self reliance, and the thrifty if labor-intensive and not-particularly-effective means of heating one’s house with a woodburning stove.

Anyway, I was obsessed with the turn of the century, and wished that I could have lived back then, and witnessed the exuberant festivities surrounding the rollover from the 19th century to the 20th. I remember, when I was about 10 or 11, sitting in the bath, doing calculations and determining that I’d be 22 when the next turn-of-the-century came–a grown-up and far too old to have much fun. I felt that I’d been cheated by the circumstances of history not to be a little kid at the turn of the century. Shows how little I knew! As it turns out, Todd and I spent the night of Dec 31 partying with a bunch of buddies from the SciFi club in York and having a hell of a good time, watching Robot Wars, drinking Yann’s mystery cocktails, and trying to teach a Furby to swear. Of course we’d switch the telly around from time to time to see the televised celebrations all around the world, and pop outside from time to time to light sparklers or watch the fireworks that were going off all over the city. It was almost as raucous as Bonfire Night, only with more random kissing. Everyone was snogging everyone else, which was at times disturbing, but at times not at all bad!

The walk back to Constantine House in city centre was brisk and pleasant. At 3:30 a.m., there were still revellers traipsing about. The streets around the Minster were littered with confetti, streamers, cracker-ends, balloons, bottles, and other hard evidence of a large, festive, and messy celebration. At one point, I looked down and saw a shimmering piece of fabric at my feet, which turned out to be a heavy, golden mesh shawl, which I kept as a souvenir of the night.

Y2K-fest was pretty awesome for me.

Tonight, as far as I know, we’re not doing a damn thing, which is pretty much okay by me. I’d be up to partying, but again, AFAIK, nobody I know is doing much, or else didn’t invite us. Whichever. Considering the week I’ve had, I’m content to just chill, make hats, and maybe ring in midnight with a G&T.

Come February, we’re planning on throwing a heck of a bash, so I’ll get my partying hat out then. I can’t believe it’s been since Halloween ’03 that I’ve thrown any sort of a party, so it’s about damn time. The theme will be somewhat Strong Bad influenced, being “Holy Crap! It’s still winter.” Lots of food, plenty of cold ones, kicking the Cheat…it’s gonna be awesome! Our new Irish stout should be ready to drink by then, and we’ve got plenty of the cocoa porter, nut brown ale, and a little of the IPA and Oktoberfest left, as well as plenty of Barleywine, for the brave and foolhardy amongst us.

Anyway, Happy New Year to all, and to all a good night. Or a prosperous New Year. Or a merry National Sandwich Week. Whichever.

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