December 2016. Our first Christmas in our retirement home. Christmas Eve and cue the “Designer Snow”; huge, fluffy gaggles of flakes as big as my hand, floating down and staying just long enough to be loved.

December 2017. Preparing for guests for Christmas then New Year’s Eve. Several of them are 20-somethings and might be looking for a racous New Year’s party.

Uh oh.

I scanned the local kudos.org for signs of life on New Year’s Eve, but all I could find was reggae night at a local bar. A little bit of reggae goes a very long way. Last year, the theme there was Great Gatsby (why not this year?!) I called several places, in disbelief when told they close by 10. I checked online events.

One was a Sunrise Colonic Veganfest Weekend I’m pretty sure.

Ok. Deal with this.

Growing up, our New Year’s used to consist of watching “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve” on tv and banging pans outside in the snow at midnight, so anything more than that is stellar. Getting kicked out of a Houston scene last year for dancing obnoxiously in a long black gown? Tubular.

Not to panic; Amazon.com to the rescue. Party hats, photo booth silly signs, balloons, and, of course, stocking up on party drinks for the evening from the CVS with the most beautiful view in America. I do love that Arizona allows buying Rx, toilet paper and vodka in one place. A very grownup state. Chez Wannabe will be the place to party and ring in 2018.

I had a thought “Oh! How about getting take-away from some of our favourite restaurants that night?!”

Nope. Everyone in the town takes time off when others do during all holidays (I need to write about “nailpocalypse” at some point). Service places close. Restaurants might offer a special dinner but are closed by 10pm.

I’ll have to find some man-bun type fingerfoods to heat in the oven I’m guessing.

And at midnight, I’ll listen for the coyotes banging pans…