Category Archives: Life Lessons

Wisdom gained

‘Falling only makes us stronger’

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You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.
– Maya Angelou, American poet, memoirist, actress, and Civil Rights Movement activist

Celebrating the Winter Games with faux fur and velveteen.

Celebrating the Winter Games with faux fur and velveteen.

It’s the 2014 Winter Olympic Games in Sochi, and I’m right there watching the events in prime time. I have a special place in my heart for the Olympics, even as I have lost my childhood awe of looking at these athletes as flawless super humans and seeing them as truly human with a driving force that to me is still unimaginable. I admit that I don’t have the courage to commit four years of training for what comes down to a single defining moment for many of these athletes. One one-hundredths of a second could mean the difference between gold, silver, bronze, or nothing. One push, one misstep, one blink of an eye, one nanosecond of lost concentration, one fall could be the end of it all. Or is it?

I have many Olympic memories, but one of the most poignant to me covers two Olympic Games. Dan Jansen, the American speed skater was favored to win gold in the 500 and 1,000 meter races at the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary, Alberta, but fell in both races after his older sister, Jane, whom he looked up to, died of leukemia. I can still recall the stunned look on his face, the weight of his grief. My heart ached for him not because he didn’t win, but because he wanted to win for his sister and yet the burden did not buoy him in the way panic or fear can make people push beyond their limits. His grief overwhelmed him. In his final race, at the twilight of his career, at the 1994 Games in Lillehammer, Norway, not only did Jansen win his first and only gold, he did so in world record style. And he celebrated by skating around the rink with his one-year-old daughter, named in honor of his sister. Not all athletes who fall or “lose” the race get redemption, or even another chance for redemption. Jansen persevered, but for all the others who got up and kept going, no matter the outcome, they also carried on the Olympic spirit.

A peek of lace beneath faux fur and Sundance stack of rings, Anthropologie clear bangle, End of Century vintage chandelier crystal drop necklace (NYC), and crystal earrings.

A peek of lace beneath faux fur and Sundance stack of rings, Lava 9 ring (Berkeley, CA), Anthropologie clear bangle, End of Century vintage chandelier crystal drop necklace (NYC), and crystal earrings.

Through the years, I have enjoyed the human interest aspect of the Olympian athletes, learning about them in the “Up Close and Personal” profiles. For someone who doesn’t watch commercials – considered bathroom break times – I do pay attention to the creative endeavors and admittedly the memorable commercials that pull at the heartstrings. This Olympics, it is the “Thank You, Mom” commercial. It doesn’t matter who the sponsor is because it’s not important as the message itself.

A speckled pointy pump to top it off.

A speckled pointy pump to top it off.

No snub to the dads intended, this commercial pays tribute to the chauffeurs, the nurses, the nurturers, and all the other roles that moms play for their kids who play sports, whether it be recreational or competitive:

“Behind every great athlete is a mom hiding by the sidelines smiling and cheering. She was the one to make hot soup after practice. She was the one to mend their wounds after they fell. She was the one who inspired them to keep pushing.

“For teaching us that falling only makes us stronger. Thank you, Mom.”

Isabella on horseback, Santa Rosa, January 2014.

My athletes: Isabella on horseback, Santa Rosa, January 2014.

I don’t know if the sponsor of this commercial copied the human-interest story that aired during the U.S. National Figure Skating Championships in early January, but the message is of a similar vein. The story was about a skating rink that was built in Brooklyn, serving inner-city kids, most of whom had never figure skated before. I wasn’t quick enough to write the quote verbatim. But one African-American girl, who fell in love with figure skating, shared something really wonderful and beautiful. Whether she goes far with the sport or not, one thing is certain: She will go far in life. She said, with such confidence and exuberance: “When I fall on the ice and get up, my teachers clap. That’s because I know whenever you’ve tried and you fail, failure is the staircase to success.”

My other athlete: Jacob pitching, Millbrae, August 2013.

My other athlete: Jacob pitching, Millbrae, August 2013 (photo by Robert Milton).

Acupuncture with love

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A wise man ought to realize that health is his most valuable possession.
– Hippocrates, ancient Greek physician

Feeling much better, with my blue-gray crocheted capelet and jeans.

Feeling better, with my blue-gray crocheted capelet and jeans.

Last fall I went through several months of working weeknights and weekends. As stress wore my body down, my sciatica returned, my back started aching, the thumb of my left hand, which is my writing hand, began hurting, and I wondered if arthritis had kicked in. My mother had suffered from arthritis, but I was hoping it was from years of packing oranges in the winter and picking grapes in the summer, and that it was not genetic. I kept telling myself that I needed to make an appointment with my acupuncturist. But then I also told myself that I didn’t have time to go because there was too much to do, which is an irrational excuse.

Fast forward to January. One of my New Year’s Resolutions is to take better care of myself. I’ll admit that it took a hard bike seat, the return of my sciatica and back pain, and another stressful time at work to make good on that promise to myself. So I made an appointment with my acupuncturist, Portia Lee, at Traditional Ways Healing Center (6931 Stockton Avenue, El Cerrito, CA 94530, 510.799.8788). My appointment this past week happened to be on the day that I had pulled an all-nighter to fix a botched project by a contracted writer that was due to our client on a tight deadline. I told Portia that I was going through a period of stress in my work, but things were supposed to change.

Vintage rhinestones by Vendome and Elizabeth Ng antique button ring (Abacus, Portland, ME).

Vintage rhinestones by Vendome and Elizabeth Ng antique button ring (Abacus, Portland, ME).

Much of my recent stress was in not knowing if my contracted writers would turn in well-written white papers, as I believe in standing by quality work and wouldn’t dream of submitting an inferior product to a client. The workload had gotten to the point where I had to outsource anything that came in because I couldn’t do it myself. I knew that my writing was capable and dependable, but once a project was out of my hands, I worried about what the contractor would turn in to me. Would it require simple redlining or a major overhaul? Does that qualify me to be a control freak? Then I’m guilty.

Portia listened patiently to my babble as she felt my pulse and asked me to point out where my aches and pains were across my body. I was on my stomach first and then my back, for two long periods of having needles at various points redirecting the flow of my energy. I focused on trying to relax my muscles with the help of a heat lamp and a CD of instrumental music. After the second batch of needles were removed, I was expecting her to say, okay, we’re done, go ahead and get dressed, and I’ll meet you at the front desk.

Vintage love and crochet.

Vintage love and crochet.

Instead, Portia sat down beside the table on which I was still reclined. She told me how concerned she was about my health, how my comment about being in a temporary state of stress every time I came in was in fact my permanent state of being. David has always given me a hard time about this, as well, for years. I knew it at some level, but ignored it. I thought I couldn’t allow myself to recognize it because there was too much to do. I have been able to suffer through these periods and feel none the worse, or so it seemed. In the last few years, I have felt myself slowing down, have admitted it to myself finally. And I promised myself months ago that I would not pull another all-nighter again. But I did. And it will take perhaps a week or more to recover, to get back to the balance I was trying so hard to achieve since the holidays.

Wearing a necklace against lacy crochet is too much, so stick with a bold ring and earrings.

Bold but simple ring and earrings.

Portia went on to say how companies have a way of squeezing so much energy out of us, and at great cost. But once we leave, we are left with having to pick up the pieces of broken health, so to speak. Once we are gone, the company doesn’t care. (One may argue that the company may not care even when you are there!) So we have to take care of ourselves in the here and now, but just as important, for the future.

I was deeply touched by Portia’s genuine concern. I could see it in her face and hear it in her voice and feel it in the room. I promised to be better to myself. I had already planned on coming in more regularly to keep my balance. I thanked her. And as I said goodnight – two hours later, darkness already descended outside – to her, her sweet daughter, and her big but gentle dog, I felt such warmth and lightness. I felt such gratitude to have someone really care about my health. As I drove home, I told myself to be good to myself. As someone once said: “Take care of your body. It’s the only place you have to live.”

Elegant and casual: Silver, blue-gray, and black, with blue jeans.

Elegant and casual: Silver, blue-gray, and black, with blue jeans.

Gray booties and statement ring and silver earrings crafted by Miao Chinese artisans (Caravan Gallery, La Conner).

Gray booties and statement ring and silver earrings crafted by Miao Chinese artisans (Caravan Gallery, La Conner).

Confronting grief, again

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It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.
– Rose Kennedy, matriarch of the Kennedy family

As I headed into 2014 I had high hopes for and a high level of energy to tackle all the things I was looking forward to accomplishing this year. As the month comes to a close, I find myself bewildered to be in a place of stasis – as in motionlessness. Where did all the energy go and why am I not where I thought I would be?

I have been preoccupied with getting a lot of work-related projects through and worrying about them, and as we all know stress can strip one’s energy. I find myself falling asleep around 8:30 in the evenings, without the benefit of a glass of wine at dinnertime to induce drowsiness. I started feeling exhausted again, which has been driven by other culprits such as a soft bed that needs to be replaced, snoring (not mine, though I will admit to snoring), and a sleek new bike seat that I have finally admitted after two weeks that I cannot get used to what feels like sitting on a brick. It makes sense that when you’re wincing on your bike and making adjustments to save your behind, the rest of your body becomes unbalanced, which results in pain – in my case, the whole lower half of my body feels like it belongs to an 80-year-old woman.

Bailey's last day with us, January 17, 2011.

Bailey’s last day with us, January 17, 2011.

Physical ailments aside, as I walked our dog Rex the other morning, I asked myself why I am feeling so aimless when there is so much to do and see. I started thinking about how in the past weeks I have been more attentive to Rex, who recently turned 13, is going deaf, and is part German Shepherd. For the last few years, I have been watching for his tremulous hind legs to start slipping and dragging, and while I see his hind legs buckle ever so slightly, every great once in a while, he has shown remarkable resiliency, likely because he is walked daily and gets exercise going up and down the stairs multiple times a day. He’s on thyroid meds and eats non-grain dog food. He receives a lot of attention from all family members, goes on car rides when I run errands, which he loves, and happily sleeps for hours on his dog bed in the library, next to my home-office desk.

Still in good shape as Rex goes for a late-afternoon backyard search for squirrels.

Still in good shape with rabbit-soft fur, golden in the late afternoon light: Rex in the backyard, searching for squirrels.

Our dog, Bailey, at age 12, passed away three years ago on the Monday night of Martin Luther King, Jr., Day. Whenever I dote on Rex, I am reminded of her passing, of not giving the attention she craved, which is one of the reasons I’m mindful of giving Rex a lot of love. In that quiet moment of crossing the street with Rex on his walk the other day, I fessed up to feeling quite sad that she is gone. Three years later!

One of my favorite photos of my mom and Jacob, summer 2000.

One of my favorite photos of my mom and Jacob, summer 2000. Relaxed and contented, she reclined on the sofa, holding her grandson, who rested his little fingers on her chin.

And then I admitted to myself that I have been thinking a lot of my mother, whose second anniversary of leaving us passed on January 3rd. I had scolded myself after that date this year because I didn’t do anything to remember her. I had a head cold and was working that day. I’m sure there was a part of me that didn’t want to remember anything from that early morning two years ago. For some unknown reason, I have found myself these last couple of weeks turning around, stopping what I was doing and listening, staring out the windows, peering over the divide between the kitchen and family room – looking for, I realized, a sign from my mother. Or actually, expecting my mother, for instance, to be sitting on the family room sofa, as if nothing had changed.

Big smiles for birthday milestones of one and 75, June 2001.

Big smiles for birthday milestones of one and 75, June 2001.

I don’t know if every January will be like this for me. I only recently realized what I was doing and what I was feeling. Bereft. Confused. Once I named my feelings and understood the source, the sadness seemed to grow and become a cloak to me. How one throws off that cloak and carefully folds it and puts it in one’s drawer is different for everyone – as it should be.

Now we are two and 76, with my nephew Joshua, June 2002.

Now we are two and 76, with my nephew Joshua, June 2002.

For me, I asked myself: What would my mother want me to be doing? How best can I honor her memory, honor everything that she had done for me? I told myself: Give myself a hug as if she were hugging me. Keep writing. Get that novel out into the world and get going on the second one. The novel is done, but it’s being carefully and lovingly, I might add, read through by my dear friend, Kathy, who has seen every draft of this novel throughout its 16-plus-year life thus far. So once that task is completed, out it goes into the world. And then on to the second novel. For her. For my beautiful mother.

Another Jacob and Lola birthday celebration, June 2005.

Another Jacob and Lola birthday celebration, June 2005, with Joshua and Isabella.

How I want to remember my mom: Vibrant and happy. With Auntie Rose in their traditional costumes for their dance presentation at the San Esteban Circle Labor Day Weekend festivities, 1995.

How I want to remember my mom: Vibrant and happy. With Auntie Rose, on her left, in their traditional Filipino costumes for their dance presentation at the festivities of the 40th anniversary of the San Esteban Circle, Veterans Memorial Building, Terra Bella, CA, Labor Day Weekend, 1995.

A Different kind of tea party

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The Mad Hatter: “Would you like some wine?”
Alice: “Yes…”
The Mad Hatter: “We haven’t any and you’re too young.”
– Lewis Carroll, English author, mathematician, logician, Anglican clergyman, and photographer, from Alice in Wonderland

My 11-year-old daughter has a negativity problem: She focuses too much on the glass being half-empty, on what went wrong at school that day. When we told my cousin, Janet, and her husband, Tim, about this character flaw – both are teachers, by the way – Tim suggested that we charge her a nickel for every negative thing she says and reward her with a nickel for every positive thought. Of course, Isabella did not like this arrangement. I, however, figured it was worth an experiment. Trying to patiently explain to her why being a Debbie Downer doesn’t get you any BFFs or why life is much more pleasant when you focus on the positive has not been working at all.

Dressed for a real high tea party: faux fur jacket, gold jacquard blouse, and flared black and gold flowered skirt.

Dressed for a real high-tea party: faux fur jacket, gold brocade blouse, and flared black and gold flowered skirt.

Yesterday afternoon, she came home from school, marched up to my office, and pulled out a dollar bill from her wallet. “I owe you money because a lot of bad things happened today,” she declared, as she dropped the bill on my weekly desk calendar. I pushed away from my desk and slumped in my chair. This was going to take a while to get through.

Here’s a quick backstory on the argument: Of the group of six girls who regularly hang out together, two of them wanted to play a different game than the other four had proposed, although they had all agreed to play together on this designated day. The two girls enjoyed playing a particular game every day and begrudgingly, it seemed, agreed to a big play date during lunch time. When the other four didn’t want to play the game, the twosome took off. This “defiant” act angered the four girls, which included my daughter.

A series of back-and-forth “discussions” ensued to expose why the other party was in the wrong. Both camps flung accusations, with one of the girls being called “the mean leader.” My daughter tried to “explain” to the two girls why they weren’t allowed to play their game and how the two girls were bound to the play date and therefore could not walk away. While I understood to a point where my daughter was coming from, it was easy for me to play devil’s advocate: Why is it a problem if they don’t want to play a game mandated by the other girls, especially since life is so short? Why not just let them do their own thing, as I know Isabella would prefer doing her own thing rather than be forced to do something she doesn’t want to do, again, because life is so short? Why allow yourself to be offended by something as small as their wanting to do something else? Life is too short. That was my theme, and I stuck to it. This problem of the girls not playing along appeared to be a control issue at the core. No amount of argument from me, however, appeased my daughter, as she plucked a second dollar bill from her wallet and put it on top of the first dollar bill.

Art Nouveau style necklace (Lava 9, Berkeley, CA), beloved chunky ring (Lava 9), and Alkemie scarab cuff against faux fur and gold jacquard-patterned blouse.

Art Nouveau style necklace (Lava 9, Berkeley, CA), beloved chunky ring (Lava 9), and Alkemie scarab cuff against faux fur and gold brocade blouse.

She then told me that the two girls ran to their teacher to complain, and at the end of the school day, Isabella was informed that she had to attend a “tea party” at recess today, comprising the teacher and six of the seven girls who were involved in the chaos. Of course, Isabella complained about losing her recess time. She was told that they would talk it out and that holding a hot cup of tea would prevent the girls from “yelling” at one another. I don’t know if this is an exact translation, as the two girls relayed the information to Isabella.

Brilliant! I thought. A tea party will provide the genteel setting needed for a calm discussion among 10- and 11-year-olds. And what girl doesn’t enjoy a tea party –  even if her eyes are throwing daggers across the table, over the cups and saucers and teapot? I’d like to be a fly on the wall, but knowing this teacher, whom I have known for almost a decade and who was my son’s third-grade teacher, I know she will be a fair mediator. She has two daughters – college and high school age – so the territory is familiar to her. This is the terrain of pre-teen girls, a fact of which I am reminded on a daily basis. So it’s nice to gain strategies to deal with this challenging time in our household.

Love of textures and Art Nouveau jewelry.

Love of textures and Art Nouveau-inspired jewelry.

At rest and thankful

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Rest and be thankful.
– William Wadsworth, English poet

Comfortable clothing is a must to be at rest: cozy sweater with hem detail over lace dress with asymmetrical layers of lace.

Comfortable clothing is a must to be at rest: cozy sweater with hem detail over lace dress with asymmetrical layers of lace.

We took down the Christmas decorations on Saturday and we were able to get everything boxed up and stored in the attic within a 24-hour period, with a few generous breaks taken, mostly by the kids. That meant our Sunday – the entire weekend was set aside for the take down, which historically is how long the task requires – was wide open. Oh, the possibilities, I told myself with excitement, as I put away the vacuum cleaner and got ready for bed.

Whereas Saturday I bustled with energy, with the mission to get the house clean again and returned to pre-holiday austerity, on Sunday morning I woke up completely spent. I managed to run a couple of errands with my family and did some pruning in the front yard. My form of procrastination – I still have a long list of tasks to accomplish – was to challenge Jacob to numerous games of Sequence. Jacob had gotten Sequence as a birthday present two years ago, and it’s one of our family’s favorite board games to play. He, of course, was up to the challenge – procrastinating and playing.

Carmela Rose earrings (Jenny K, El Cerrito), End of Century cicada ring (NYC), Laura Lombardi necklace and longer A Peace Treaty necklace (both, Eskell, Chicago) against a green cabled sweater.

Carmela Rose earrings (Jenny K, El Cerrito), End of Century cicada ring (NYC), Laura Lombardi necklace and A Peace Treaty longer necklace (both, Eskell, Chicago) against a green cabled sweater.

I went to bed early Sunday night, but I woke up at five in the morning on Monday. I was thinking of all the things I needed to do and all the things I could have done on Sunday. In my mind, I had squandered my “free” day. I sat up in bed after an hour of tossing and turning, and in doing so had awoken David. I told him I was upset that I hadn’t been more productive with my Sunday. His advice: Get over it. What’s done is done. He was right. I was wasting more time by crying over the proverbial spilled milk.

Frye heeled booties complete the sweater and lace combo.

Frye heeled booties complete the sweater and lace combo.

So I accepted that I rested on Sunday and I also accepted that it is okay to be at rest. In our conversation, I told David that a handful of friends had jokingly told me that reading our holiday e-greeting had worn them out because I had packed in so much information and had done so much. I told him that I look back on 2013 and honestly don’t know how I was able to write three blog posts a week, including conducting interviews and writing the profiles, and finish my novel on top of another busy year of work. I didn’t think I could do that now, given how tired I was feeling at the moment. David reminded me that I was getting over a cold, which had sapped my energy.

The more I thought about it as the day progressed, the more I understood that I got my cold because my immune system was shot trying to get the holiday e-greeting out before the end of the year, finishing the novel, continuing with the blogging, and working on a deadline in the month of December. I accomplished a lot but at a price. I hit a wall and fell flat on my behind. As Saturday Night Live’s Stuart Smalley would say, however, “And that’s okay.” Accepting that state of mind is something with which I struggle. Sometimes the body has to step in, scold the mind, and take over. Just to make us slow down. To rest is the first step. To be thankful for the time and ability to be at rest comes next. As I continue to catch my breath, I find myself still struggling but succumbing to gratitude. Soon enough, I’ll be on that next leg of the journey. But I need to regroup, gather my strength, regain my momentum – and do so with a smile on my face.

At rest and thankful.

At rest and thankful. Crochet detail stands out against creamy lace, as do the booties peeking out from the asymmetrical hem of the skirt.

Looking forward to 2014

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For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.
– T.S. Eliot, poet, dramatist, and literary critic, from Four Quartets

When I was in elementary school, my sister gave me a diary for Christmas one year. I had previously used a notebook and binder paper to record what happened or what I did on days that were worthy of recording. But once I got a real diary, I was spoiled and for several years afterwards I would get a new diary for each year. Soon my entries evolved from one-liners of what I ate or who came to visit to events that made me happy or sad followed by an analysis of why I was happy or sad. I created a tradition in which at the end of the year I would reflect and read what happened that year. I would write about what was memorable and what I learned. And then I would focus on my hopes and dreams for the following year.

A timeless LBD that reminds me of The Great Gatsby and Art Deco.

A timeless LBD that reminds me of The Great Gatsby and Art Deco.

I’ve since abandoned writing a daily diary. I rely on the e-mails that I send to friends as a record of what happened and what I was going through internally. I don’t do New Year’s Resolutions anymore, either. Or at least I don’t formalize them, write them down, and take assessment after a certain period of time has passed in the new year. When I write my holiday e-greeting letter, I do take stock of what I and my family did for the year, and at least in my head I reflect on the year and what goals I had set for myself that were achieved and what goals are yet to be met.

I think about what the New Year promises and what I want to do in the New Year. I could be detailed or I could just throw a blanket statement that covers everything. There’s something really attractive about simplicity, especially when I feel so cluttered with so many things in life right now. So yes, I’m going to make a New Year’s Resolution list this time around, but it’s going to be one that will be easy to achieve. So here goes:

Laura Lombardi necklace (Eskell, Chicago) and Abacus earrings (Portland, ME).

Laura Lombardi necklace (Eskell, Chicago) and Abacus earrings (Portland, ME).

Be mindful of the present, the here and now. More often than not, walking Rex in the early mornings is a task that I want to cross off my daily list of things to do as quickly as possible. During the fall, however, I took time to enjoy the turning of the leaves from green to deep reds and vibrant golds and oranges. I enjoyed the Christmas decorations on neighbors’ lawns and trees. It was a crazy busy month of December, but I made sure to enjoy our decked-out halls by, for example, bringing the laptop down to the living room to enjoy the fire and smell the tree while I worked. It kept the spirit in me. And I want to continue that mindfulness.

Get my novel out there, in whatever form and through whatever channel in which it was meant to be. I will try just a few literary agents this time around, but when I set out to finish A Village in the Fields last year, I had already come up with a plan to get it up quickly on Amazon, per the path a few colleagues from work have taken. Stay tuned.

Keep writing, read more. I’m looking forward to resuming research for my second novel, which I had abandoned back in 2006, and doing character sketches and plot drafts. I also look forward to revisiting old short stories that wise old eyes are now looking at anew and revising them, as well as revisiting old short story ideas and perhaps resurrecting them. Most importantly, I look forward to carving out more time to read – the single thing that makes a writer better.

Textures in the form of faux fur and velveteen, and gold accents.

Textures in the form of faux fur and velveteen, and gold accents.

Write more profiles for my blog. One thing that suffered a little as work overtook me this past fall to the end of the year was not having the time to interview amazing women for my blog. I have a backlog of women to interview, and I really hope to carve out time to return to this part of my blog. Stay tuned.

Take better care of my body. I cannot ignore the creaks in the knees as I walk down the stairs in the morning or the pain in my thumb joint, which I fear is arthritis and not carpal tunnel syndrome. Yes, I am getting older and with it comes aches and pains. But if I eat right, get some sleep – let me repeat that to myself again, get more sleep – and add greater variety to my exercise routine, some of those afflictions should be alleviated. I can’t stop time or growing older, but I can impact the quality of those years and the process.

Scatter joy. On my first trip to Maine perhaps a decade ago in August, my friend, Jack, indulged my request to check out this quaint shop called Flying Pigs, at least I think that’s what the shop was called. I came across a plaque with the words “Scatter joy” that was attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson. I picked it up but put it down. Then at Christmastime that year, Jack sent the plaque to me, and it has been hanging above a door in our library for the last six years. Every once in a while I look up and remember how it came to our house, and it reminds me to do just that – scatter joy.

There is nothing more gratifying than seeing someone I care about smile or laugh or be happy because of something I said or did. It’s infectious and it makes my day. It’s easy to do. Every day. Scatter joy. Happy New Year’s Eve!

Time for a little New Year's Eve celebration!

Time for a little New Year’s Eve celebration!