"A horse may catch fire in spite of all precautions."

           ——Horsemanship Merit Badge pamphlet

I don’t know anyone who isn’t eager to ditch the Horse year. Prey animals, man, horses are creatures of fear and their strongest impulse is to bolt. We’re tired.

So I had my usual party. Each year it grows in size and expands to include more food and drink. This year it was a little too big, I think. Fun—what’s not fun after countless cups of pu-er and Momokawa Diamond and two tartinis?—but a lot for the host—me—to manage.

It was the usual crowd plus a few others. I don’t worry anymore about whether people will mix comfortably because I figure people can take care of themselves. My favorite part is parsing the different personalities in the mix. These are cool people!

But at moments it did feel unwieldy. So I’ve decided that this event really has to be capped at a certain number. It has to be small enough that everyone fits around the table comfortably with both the food and drink at the table, not with the food set up buffet-style in the kitchen.

And it would be majorly helpful if everyone would show up at the same time so I don't have to keep running to the window and dropping Mr. Sheep here Rapunzel-style to the sidewalk three floors below.

"On Your Mark, Get Set, Goat!"

Next year, no martinis, less food, and fewer people. Or, maybe we’ll just all go out someplace over-the-top. It will be the year of the Monkey, after all.