Saturday December 13 was the pick of dates for holiday parties… one hosted by a colleague from work, three hosted by my large family, one at the neighbor’s, one at the fire house, and yet another at a local elected official’s home. Which one did we choose?
… none of these. Especially for the spouse who isn’t the party animal.
Actually, I began the day by visiting my great nephew twins for whom I am sort of a Godfather. Not in the religious sense, but in the “also being a twin” sense. They are bright and vivacious three year olds who I adore, along with their mother (my niece) and their Dad who is a wonderful guy.
I got home by mid-day, and my spouse and I decorated our Christmas tree and the house. A nice way to spend the afternoon.
After dinner, I decided to visit friends who I have gone Christmas caroling with since 1971… yep, since Junior High school. We have had larger gatherings of the “old gang” in the past, but for various reasons this year, only a small number of our original group could make it. Like me, most had competing priorities.
The seven of us from the original gang of 22 who gathered sang some of our favorite Christmas carols to the neighbors on the block where a friend lives now — same neighborhood where we all grew up. But seven tired old voices couldn’t carry much of a tune, so we only visited the houses on that block, then called it a night.
We went back to my friend’s house and caught up with each other, but I didn’t stay out that late… not being the night owl, I was home, snuggled with my spouse, by 10pm (which is quite late by my standards.)
I also am not the party boy, so while I would have loved to have dropped in on my family’s parties or at the fire house, logistics prevented that, so I gently declined.
I think next year my “old gang” will think ahead to plan a gathering on a night that will not have as much competition and hopefully “reunion 43” will have a larger crowd. And I have to admit, going to holiday parties “stag” when you’re married is awkward. But my spouse has always been an antisocial recluse and I knew that long before we married.
Onward … one week until I go pick up the MIL… oh joy 🙂
Life is short: party where it matters.