Buh-bye, 2014!

I'm all set. Tonight, I'll be wearing red for good luck, and I'll be burning a bayberry candle because it attracts prosperity. I plan to make lots of noise at midnight to welcome in the new year. Not sure exactly how I will accomplish this one without bothering my neighbors, but maybe they will be partying, too, happy to begin a new chapter, as I am.

If I were in Chile tonight, I might be wearing red underwear to attract a new love or yellow to attract prosperity. And if I wanted to attract both or just a prosperous lover, could I mix it up and wear orange undies for that?

To attract travel in 2015, I would take my suitcase out and make a midnight stroll around the block with it. Then, tomorrow, I would eat lentils for good luck. Here in the US, I will be eating black-eyed peas and cabbage for the same reason.

I've started on those pesky New Year's resolutions, too. Goals, intentions, whatever you call them. Top of the list is spending less time on "social media." You know what I'm talking about.

An inordinate amount of my day is spent scrolling through all the "stuff" that appears in my newsfeed. I enjoy seeing friends' photos or reading things they post, but it's like mining for nuggets of gold. I have to sift through all the inane things that people I have only met once or twice think is important enough or funny enough or witty enough to post on Wastebook. By the time I've reached the end, looking for posts from people I actually know, I have to start over again because there are 48 new posts to ferret through.

For me, it equals an enormous time drain. I'd quit using it altogether except that some of my friends use it instead of email. To stay in touch with them, I have to continue it, but I'm going to attempt the practically impossible--only doing one big "read" of it every day instead of scrolling endlessly.

Here's to spending less time on social media and more time being social in 2015. Cheers!

Happy New Year.

'Tis the season

'Tis the season, so I was invited to a Christmas party last Saturday night. The invitation was for 6:00pm.

After living in Chile for almost four years, I sometimes forget that, in the US, it's not okay to arrive at a dinner or a party really, really late. I was only running slightly late, about twenty minutes, but when I arrived, the party was in full swing. There were other stragglers who arrived after I had, but the majority of the guests had arrived on time.

Everyone brought a dish to share and the hosts had prepared food, too. The tables were groaning, heavy with ham, turkey, enchiladas, posole, vegetables, desserts. You name it, we had it.

Many of us did not already know each other. We got acquainted while nibbling appetizers. Then, around quarter to seven, one of the hosts announced that it was time to eat dinner. People began filling plates and finding places to sit where they could balance them on their knees.

About half an hour later, I began to notice something, an exodus. People who had finished eating started to leave the party. By 7:30, half the guests were out the door and, by eight o'clock when I left, there were only a few diehards still there. I was home by 8:30.

I had fun at the party, but when I told this story to my Spanish teacher Vivi, she was incredulous. ¿A las seis? Her eyes went wide when I told her the party had started at 6:00pm. They began to roll around when I told her that I was home by 8:30. I could read her thoughts. ¡Que fome!

First of all, in Chile, a party like this would never have started until at least 8:00, more likely 9:00 or 10:00. And even then, most people wouldn't have shown up for another hour or so. They would not be ready to leave after only an hour and a half either. In fact, after an hour and a half, they might not have eaten yet and, even if they had, they would still linger long into the night.

After a Chilean party, the host might find their bed at 2:00 or 3:00 or 4:00am. Time well spent with people whom they had probably seen the week before.

Don't ask which is my preference. With friends, all parties are fun, but if I had my druthers, I'd probably split the difference and have three- or four-hour parties. I wonder which country in the world does that.