Day 61 - The *Resolutionary* War

As the year draws to a close, I find that I have survived the holidays subsisting solely on ham and cheese sandwiches and peanut butter cups, and am quite literally “too big for my britches”. I have not been to bed before midnight in a month, my tush has not felt the burn of a single workout, and my patience with Senior Fussybutt Crankypants is at an all –time low. As usual, I have a list of New Year’s Resolutions written up to address all these issues and more, which I will implement with great gusto on New Year’s Day, only to abandon by February.

SO.

 This begs the question: why make resolutions at all? Easy. Because they give us hope, and couldn’t we all use a little of that? Now I know that every “expert” on the face of the planet advises against making a list each year, but this is one time I must staunchly disagree (HA! Take THAT, Women’s Day!). It’s a good thing to set reasonable goals for yourself (hey, I said reasonable – you are NOT going to eat only bean curd marinated in wheatgrass juice for six months. No, you are not. Seriously.). So this year, my Great Concession in the Name of Simplicity will be this: instead of one resolution for each week of the year (did I mention I was an OCD Type A Overachiever?), I will limit myself to five.  Now, don’t ask me to tell you what they are, or they won’t come true. But I can tell you that by this time next year, you will be able to bounce a quarter off my tush, should you be so inclined. I will also be really, really patient.

Happy New Year to you all! May your year be filled with the time to do what you love, the resources you need and the space to store them, and an abundance of love, joy, and fellowship. And chocolate covered espresso beans – I wish those for you too.