Close up Hands Tea x

Sit a bit and hear some observational stories I’ve been steeping.

A re-salute to that which I resolute. Again.

Another new year on the horizon and again I sit with pencil and paper to sketch out resolutions.  Notice I said pencil, not pen, as I’m not totally committed to this year’s list (which sort of resembles last year’s list) yet. It’s not that I think the resolutions are not worthy of being carried out, it’s just that I’m not sure I have the intestinal fortitude to do what needs to be done.  I’m a bit of a pansy when it comes to facing down my inner dragons, especially the ten to twelve pound one that’s been hanging on for dear life to my flank region for quite some time.  That little bugger just won’t let go (nor will he willingly be shoved into a pair of jeans I’ve got hanging in my closet that I’d like to get back into).

 

Misery loves her company and according to Time Magazine, I won’t be standing alone in the cold with a possibly broken resolution list. The magazine says the Top 10 Commonly Broken New Year's Resolutions are these:

 

1) Lose Weight and Get Fit

2) Quit Smoking

3) Learn Something New

4) Eat Healthier and Diet

5) Get Out of Debt and Save Money

6) Spend More Time with Family

7) Travel to New Places

8) Be Less Stressed

9) Volunteer

10) Drink Less

 

Hmmm.  Well, I can tell you that I will most likely blow numbers 1, 4, 8 and 10 between today and the first day of the fast approaching New Year.  I already know there will tempting food and beverages laid before me that I will not be able to turn down.  It has nothing to do with willpower and everything to do with the fact that these items have been lovingly prepared, stirred and shaken… just for me.  How can I possibly say no?  Oh, yeah – willpower.  The pansy in me is still working on that.  Somehow, I can open my mouth to imbibe in whatever treats are handed to me, but cannot say the three little words that will save me from the flank dragon: “No.  Thank you.”

 

Number 2 was never an issue for me, not after a toxic childhood of being exposed to chain smokers in restaurants, poorly ventilated automobiles and grandma’s house (which was a real groove-killer, as every fairytale I read had grandmothers whose homes smelled of baked goods and powdery perfume, not stale nicotine).

 

Oh, number 5.  Eww.  5 just makes me crazy-nervous, bite-my-nails and pull my hair out panicky. I know it has everything to do with having had to learn about money, fractions and how to tell time all in the 3rd grade.  That little episode kicked my butt and has made me number-phobic ever since.  Honestly, how hard would it have been for the people that made the final decisions on chronometry and how to measure time back in the day, to just make a quarter after the hour a full 25 minutes, you know to match the quarter dollar?!  Oh, probably pretty hard I imagine.  But the eight year old me would’ve been SO happy!  Then again, maybe if the United States Treasury hadn’t based money on that pesky old decimal system.  Darned fractional currency, anyway.  Occupy Wall Street folks, why don’t you just ask to have the national debt erased like a giant Etch-a-sketch and request that money be redesigned so that it relates more to time?  After all, we’ve all been raised with the sensibility that time is money, right?  Something we can agree upon, that’ll be a good place to start.

 

Numbers 3 and 6 have become habits and really, the only two points I know I can fully commit to.  Every day the fascination of learning something new has propelled me out of bed (or the sofa, where I’d spent the last two years of my marriage – not bitter, just getting my back back-to-normal) and I find that the more time I spend with family members, the more I learn.  Even time spent with my ex teaches me something I did not know, more often than not, something about me.

 

Number 9 used to involve picking up the newspaper to see what volunteer opportunities were available to choose from, from a very long list of charitable organizations in my community.  Having lived long enough to watch family and friends whose lives have been touched by cancer, Alzheimer’s, autism and, in today’s financial climate, poverty – I have a long list to choose from much closer to home.  In the new year, my hands will be busy, my heart will be full.

 

That leaves me with item #7.  Seven was always my lucky number growing up.  There was something magical, almost holy about the number 7 to me (and having it correlate with the days in the week was more than a happy historical chronometric accident, for me).  This past year, on April 12th (which coincidentally adds up to 7, BTW) I was lucky enough to be whisked off to London and Paris by the handsome green-eyed Viking in my life and I’m not sure anything can top that in the upcoming year.  To travel to new places is a matter of time and money, both of which are not easy to capture.  So, as one who loves to read (and be read to), I think there might have to be some cozy nights at home, by the fire, with some good books with travel to Sweden in Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Mississippi in The Help and Northern California in Walter Issacson’s Steve Jobs, and more.  I just might have to serve a tray of home baked goodies (making MY home smell like my fairytale grandmothers of yore) along with a pot of hot cocoa, maybe with a dash of cinnamon schnapp’s to round out the evening and…

 

Crud. 

 

There goes another resolution list.  Hi-ho, hi-ho, back to the drawing board I go!

 

Happy New Year to all and to all a reliable pencil sharpener and plenty of lined yellow pads to make you happy!

 

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