2009 -- we welcome you

We welcomed in the New Year at a great party at my friend Elise's last night. One thing I've learned from living in England is that the worst thing you can do is be a boring party guest. You must be convivial, perhaps even controversial, if the occasion demands it.

Which is why we all livened up when Karen B started to talk about tantric sex. She didn't say anything outrageous, but the mere introduction of such a topic raised our conversational energy levels. She even explained it using my husband Mel. She stroked his cheek and said, "This is an example of tantric sex."

"So that's Mel taken care of for a while," I commented.


Then Jane Gilmore came to the party bearing a jug of her Cranberry Champagne Cointreau cocktail. Soon the rest of us felt like heaven was within our grasp as we quaffed the sparkling pink drink. Jane had to keep going to the kitchen to make more as it was so delicious. I tried to make excuses for how much of it I was drinking: "I thought I might have cystitis earlier, so I needed the cranberry juice."

"You'll never have cystitis again in your life at this rate," someone replied.

Elise had a huge buffet filled with dishes made by her and her guests -- salmon, turkey, ham, casseroles, etc. We toasted her as the Hostess with the Mostest before we went in and filled our plates.

Twelve o'clock came so quickly. I went around trying to get people's New Year's resolutions but my camera doesn't video that well when a room is dark, but here are some of the guests telling me their resolutions.

I need to take some elocution lessons -- my accent is so bad on these videos that it makes me wince. Here's the next one:

After we wished each other a happy 2009, some of us started to dance. One guest commented that I was the worst dancer he'd ever seen, but you can't let comments like that stop you from enjoying life in any way possible -- and dancing is such a nice way of celebrating the fact that you're alive and in the company of friends and there's a new year full of possibilities just starting.

Finally a taxi arrived to take home a group of guests, and Mel was complaining he was tired and wanted to go home (he'd been in London working all day, and it was 1:30 am by then). All the guests formed a conga line to wind our way out of Elise's house and into the night to greet 2009 and see what it has in store for us.

But no, before we left, Elise had a pot of black-eyed peas on the stove, the traditional Southern dish that you must eat on New Year's Day for good luck. We couldn't leave, Elise explained, until we'd each had a spoonful. She grabbed a handful of spoons and one by one, we ate some black-eyed peas to ensure our good fortune in 2009.

But did we really need the peas for luck? I think any group of friends who can have misunderstandings, squabbles, periods where they aren't in touch, illness, etc., and still come together to celebrate our lives, friendships and the future on New Year's Eve already has good fortune.