Our original plan this New Year’s Eve was to head to the Catskills for a couple of days of fireplace-lounging, but everywhere we checked out has a three-night minimum…and besides, we don’t have a car. So. Next plan: Dos Caminos with a bunch of friends. But it turns out that it’s a $90 per person minimum (which, for New Year’s in NYC, isn’t that bad…but the word “minimum” makes me nervous). We went back-and-forth for a bit, and ultimately decided to do something really, really crazy this year:

Stay in. 

I can think of nothing more appealing than an entire, uninterrupted evening with just the two of us. This year has brought a lot of changes to both Kendrick and I, and in the spirit of how I’d like to approach the coming decade – with focus and calm – I’d really like to skip the carousing this year. A hangover-free January 1 sounds…spectacular. 

Reading back over this post, the party girl inside of me is screaming “BUT IT’S NEW YEAR’S!!! WHOOO!!!” But seriously? I have NEVER had a fun New Year’s. Ever. In theory, it sounds great: spending an evening celebrating the close of another year with those whom you love the most, but in reality the night more often centers around long slogs through the cold in search of the next place we’re supposed to be. Also, each and every year has involved an awkward hug/kiss with someone I don’t really know that well, but whose eye I accidentally caught moments after the clock struck 12.