The light fantastic

Good golly, Miss Molly, I'm flying out of last year like Lois Lane under Superman's cape. There may be trouble ahead, but while there's leftover fudge, peppermint ice cream and romance, let's face the music and dance. You with me?

That was the year that was, and don't let the door hit you on your way out, 2008. Sayonara, goodbye and arrivederci, baby. Since our contemporary leaders swapped the gold, frankincense and myrrh for bribery, larceny and Ponzi schemes, perhaps Irving Berlin could smell what we're cookin' when he suggested we "face the music and dance." Go, Irving.

Forgive me, but I'm a tad queasy from inhaling those dreadful chestnuts roasting on that open fire. Don't know about yours, but mine are scorched. And, geez, that endless Winter Wonderland makes the polar ice cap look like Aruba. So, Santa baby, get me into 2009, and I don't care if it's beginning to look a lot like hummus, for heaven's sake.

I'm ready for a trip to the light fantastic. I haven't been on a trip for a while, and I have no idea where the light fantastic is. I've tripped over a lot of things in my life, none too fantastic. How does one trip the light fantastic, anyway? Maybe Oprah can tell me.

Turns out the light fantastic originated in "L'Allegro," a poem by John Milton, who might have been tripping on a few other things when he coughed out his creations. But I like that idea, so I'm looking at Milt a little differently and thinking he might have been trying to tell us something back in 1645.

It goes like this: Com, and trip it as ye go

On the light fantastick toe,

And in thy right hand lead with thee,

The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty

This guy might be on to something.

So this year my dance card will be rockin' with joy and celebration. I'm interested in what's on yours, too, because we're all in this together, all of us compadres in the Conejo. We should take pride knowing that the only number that did not depreciate last year is our Thousand Oaks, which remains firm and has not shrunk to 999 or less. At least, not the last time I looked.

To cut to the chase, I think it's time to get on my dancing shoes and shimmy and shake in a new beginning. What the heck? Our political role models provided us with endless skills for spinning and twisting, so why not take their lead?

I can't remember who said to "take care of the luxuries and the necessities will take care of themselves," but that's my line for 2009. And perhaps I also need to improve my memory.

In the words of that great philosopher Buzz Lightyear, "To infinity . . . and beyond!"

Happy New Year to all. E-mail Elizabeth Kirby at kirby@theacorn.com