Kage Baker truly enjoyed New Year’s, both Eve and Day. It was the definitive pinnacle to the building arc of holidays that began, for Kage, with Halloween.

Halloween began at sunset, and ramped through the hours of darkness until midnight – or until childish energy gave out in candy comas. New Year’s, on another hand, arrives at midnight with peals of trumpets and fireworks, and rumbles triumphantly into dawn. It’s a new year, and the days will be growing lighter every day for months.

And that is what Kage liked to celebrate.

She had her rituals for the New Year; I didn’t know the source or provenance for any of them, really. All I brought from my childhood was an earnest desire to watch the ball drop in Times Square and drink a swig or two of champagne (only a little; I don’t like champagne). Kage, though, loved champagne, and finished off the bottle happily.

But Kage always fixed, very deftly, a special meal of first-class steak, baked potato and creamed spinach. What was the ritualistic point of this excellent repast? I’ve no idea, except maybe it was because that was the only time Kage ever cooked it. With Kage, once was fun, twice was coincidence, and after the third time an act occurred – it was a ritual.

Then we’d watch the Twilight Zone marathon until midnight. Which is what I am doing right now. The especial fun of watching Twilight Zone is finding the young performers who are now revered old actors. Right now, George Takei, at the apparent age of about 14, is relivng Pearl Harbor in some old American vet’s attic. It’s not looking good for the vet …

Right now, the annual barrage of explosives is getting louder – all my neighbors who quietly walk their tiny dogs and polish their BMWs and Mercedeses are bringing out the leftovers from 4th of July and Memorial Day and lighting them up. The most of them will be lit off just after midnight, when it will briefly resemble the Battle of Los Angele around here. That was Kage’s actual favourite part – all the explosions going off everywhere.

Harry the parrot has gone to bed, and is sleeping sound. Fireworks and a few mild urban explosions don’t bother parrots particularly. Now, though, I also live with a dog and 2 cats, who must be soothed after each explosion, the poor babies. I would personally enjoy this much more if the explosions didn’t upset the beasties so.

But here we are. We can soothe the kitties with catnip, and snuggle the Corgi, and watch aliens on the Twilight Zone, and march on to the New Year. I hope none of you have duties more onerous than petting nervous cats, and that everyone has a very Happy New Year!