We rang in the New Year with a 1950s cocktail party. Costumes were recommended, encouraged, applauded and appreciated.
Eli took a class in bartending while in Argentina last year, and mixed some very colorful cocktails for some of us, and some very tasty mocktails for the kids, teetotalers, and designated drivers. He dressed the part, right down to the fake cigarette that made little puffs of corn starch when blown into.
We have the best friends in the world! We can always count on the Rahn Gang to come dressed to the nines…
Check out those poodle skirts!
We had our beatnik, our cube(squarer than square), and our cool cat.
Remember the Alamo? How about Davy Crockett of the Wild Frontier, the rage in the late fifties?
Speaking of wild, Cousins Nancy and Ian lent some class to the party when they arrived looking like James Bond and Jackie O, only better.
And in a class of their own…Sue, Rick, and Stu!
They brought soft drinks I haven’t seen since the ’50s AND….
(Hey, Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!)
…the fine fare we were raised on back then: Bugles, Velveeta, Franz Fruit Pies, Vienna Sausages, and Hostess Twinkies, Cupcakes, and Ding Dongs!
Not to mention Wonder Bread and baloney!
My new favorite photo in the world—Sue holding “Mommy’s Little Helper.”
Our bartender kept ’em coming, mostly non-alcoholic drinks with all kinds of fruity juices adorned with tiny umbrellas. I saw a really pretty drink go by, and asked for one just like it. I thought it was a mocktail, but it went straight to my head. “Isn’t this non-alcoholic?” I asked. Eli replied, “Mom, if it were a virgin cocktail it probably wouldn’t be called ‘Sex on the Beach’.” Yeah, probably not. But I did discover how much I enjoy Sex On the Beach.
At midnight, like always, we toasted the New Year with a chorus of Auld Lang Syne and a round of Boston Coolers, the perfect combination of Vernor’s ginger ale and vanilla ice cream. 
Dear friends, family, followers, and all my blogging buddies, here’s wishing you a very Happy New Year!
And one last nod to the old year…
Many thanks to Sarah Potter, of sarahpotterwrites for nominating me for The 2013 Blog of the Year Award. Sarah is a novelist, a talented musician, and a poet with a fresh voice and a sly sense of humor. Her mastery of the haiku is a wonder. Please check out her blog!
It was, of course, a costume affair…
By Christmas night, my throat was scratchy, and it was all downhill from there. The next day Bea was felled. The day after, Eli. My brother Lew, who spent the holiday with us, left to suffer in the privacy of his own home. A week later, on New Year’s Eve Eve we were still in no shape to host the hobbit party we had planned. I rescheduled with family friends, but Bea asked if she could still have just a small handful of her friends over. I said, yes, but only if they knew they were coming at their own risk. So we did a little decorating, a little shopping, a little food prep, a little dress up, and we were ready to party in quarantine. 
As midnight drew near, there was only one task left to do. Mama hobbit began to prepare the Boston Coolers, an ancient custom practiced by native Detroiters and their offspring, to toast the New Year. 
It is a delicate concoction of Vernors ginger ale, not Canada Dry or any other pale substitute. Only Vernors, aged in wood, and deftly mixed with vanilla ice cream. Try it sometime, but you must promise not to settle for anything less than real Vernors! 
Writing Between the Lines 