Our New Year's Eve was a sober, restrained affair. I'm not sure why, I guess I was just ready to get on with it and all it might bring. My friend Matt, who conveniently lives three doors down from me, hosted his annual shindig, constructing this year's enormous glitter ball and slowly lowering it from the attic window of his house. Last year, it was an unseasonable 50F and the yard was dense with bodies, stomping and swaying and shooting fireworks into the velvet sky. This year's shin-deep snowfall meant a thinned out crowd circling the fire pit, swaddled in puffy coats and scarves. Not a sequined minidress in sight. I caught up with friends about their Christmases, kissed my husband at midnight, and exited without saying goodbye at oh, 12:04. We shuffled home, woodsmoke in our hair, and watched the 1974 adaptation of The Great Gatsby, which I hadn't seen. Or I should say, we watched most of it, before I became so tired my hands shook and we finished it on New Year's Day. Nick rose early to fry up sweet potato hash and omelets for Ana's annual brunch. I starfished out on the bed, watching the dark amber panes of glass in our bedroom window blaze bright. The light in that room is magical at midday and I seldom get to bask in it.
Last year my resolution was to eat more vegetables and I think I really did, if only because we cooked at home in 2012 more than ever. I have grand goals for this year, but I like my resolutions to be smaller in scale. Something achievable that I can tuck into my life to make it a little better. This year, I'd like to read more books. I've always been a bookish sort but when I look back on last year I realized I only read The Art of Fielding and Swamplandia! Can that be right? I used to always carry a book with me to read over lunch, before bed, or waiting to meet a friend, but I seemed to have fallen into the trap of using my idle time by scrolling through Twitter, Instagram, and whatever articles I've bookmarked on my phone. I'm reminded of a line from A Visit From the Goon Squad, which I finished while waiting at a gate in the Miami airport in 2011: "Everybody sounds stoned, because they’re e-mailing people the whole time they’re talking to you."