New Year, Shmoo Year

New Year, Shmoo Year. Whose idea was this anyway? It doesn’t feel like a new year when the snow and ice are still on the ground and everyone (except the skiers, but they are a little bit crazy, whooshing down mountainsides without good brakes) is sitting around with their teeth chattering and a blanket draped over their head in that corner of the kitchen near the oven. It not only doesn’t feel right, it is inconvenient. I am not prepaying for a party that I may not be able to get to or from due to bad weather. I hate having to wear dress shoes and thin pants when the temperature is below freezing. I think we need to rethink the timing on this. Bears got it right.How about we move this to the spring? This feels more like a new beginning, what with flowers and groundhogs poking up out of the ground. I like to pretend that all that bad juju is left behind in the old year. This is easier to do when you are looking at the days getting warmer rather than colder. The spring also has my birthday, which would now be approximate, like many of those from the finer sex.Better still, maybe we could try doing without the stupid calendar. I can get away without a watch, why not no calendar? My dog doesn’t seem to need one and he does fine. He just wakes up each morning and when he discovers he is alive again he gets all wiggly and then runs around and checks to see if everyone else is alive and gets them up if they are. He does not check for appointments. I do that for him and, truth be told, he would probably just as soon I skipped it because nothing good ever happens at his appointments and come to think about it, this is often true for my appointments. If it is really important for me to meet with someone why not just go and see them? If they are there, we can have a meeting. If they are not, oh well. Maybe I can catch a movie while I am in the neighborhood, probably a better use of my time, anyway.Do we really need to know more than what season we are in? The Indians didn’t think so, with the exception of the Maya, if you count them as Indians. Personally, I don’t. Too detail oriented and kind of gloomy Guses with all that end of the world stuff.So the next time you don’t get a date sensitive card from me, don’t take it personally. I will probably send them all at once, but after New-New Year’s. Bill Abrams resides, and counts down ‘til the New Year (in March), in Pine Plains.