Twenty Eleven

I hate New Year’s Eve. I’m not going to lie- I think it is the absolute most over-hyped holiday possible.

Everyone talks about it being full of hope and wonder and feelings but in the end, I don’t really ever know what we’re celebrating and it just seems like an excuse for people to wear silly hats, drink copious amounts of alcohol, yell “woooohoo!” often, sloppily kiss someone when it turns midnight and then sleep in the next day.

Roommate C, however, happens to love New Year’s Eve.
She likes the sparkle and celebration and promised us that if we trusted her with our plans, this particular year was going to be fantastic.
So what did we do?
We followed her advice:

put on our nice outfits

drove to the city

saw acrobats and live music and fire dancers (!!!)

and yet when it hit midnight, it didn’t matter to me where we were.

I realized I was surrounded by people I loved the most, and that was enough of a cause for celebration.

Of course, the fireworks helped the sentimental feelings stay, too.

And as for that traditional over-hyped midnight kiss? Well, you know a lion would never kiss and tell.