When I invite people to one of my parties, of which there are four or five each year, most of them want to know what I am celebrating. And so I always invent something or other, just in case. Last year around this time it was Saint Valentine’s, if I remember correctly. This weekend we will be celebrating the Chinese New Year, though. To make sure the party is as successful as possible, I wax poetic about the Year of the Pig. The Year of the Golden Pig, that is. Most auspicious, I smack my lips invitingly. As auspicious as years can get, as a matter of fact. The Chinese are going nuts over it, I grin like mad. And many people nod happily. They will come for sure, or so they promise me. God only knows how many people would ever come to just another old party.