Let’s face it: New Year’s is amateur night, just like St. Patrick’s Day has become. Losers who stay home the other 363 nights of the year all come out those two nights, and try to ruin it for those of us who really know how to play.
So last year, The Gang tried something different — and it was so good, it became an instant tradition.
We have a small, private party. Couples only, except for one or two well-trained teenage children to act as bartenders. Each couple must bring two gourmet appetizers, a killer desert, and a bottle of good champagne.
Women in classy dresses, men in tuxedos. High-heeled shoes may come off almost immediately, but everyone must stay otherwise dressed until midnight. We eat too much and drink too much, but you’ll usually find three or four of The Survivors still in the hot tub at dawn.
I’ll be making my Beef Carpaccio. Melissa prepared a Double Chocolate Torte. What else will we be eating? Won’t have a clue until I get there.
Anyway, all of this is just a long-winded way of wishing you a very happy new year, and excusing myself from blogging tomorrow.