Sunday, January 1, 2012


Just have a feeling. 2012 is gonna be my year.

I stopped making New Year’s resolutions quite a while ago, when it became clear that, however many times I put them on the list, I was not actually ever going to learn to speak Italian, play chess, or parallel park. My pantry remains a jumble of boxes and jars and cans arranged without  rhyme or reason. My windows remain unwashed and my floors unwaxed. My computer files are organized like a treasure hunt, with “work” folders containing recipes and “home” folders filled with Sunday School lesson plans. On a more personal level, I still have to have the last word in any argument with Steve, I still interrupt entirely too much, I continue to nag the kids. It seems I am, as 2012 dawns, exactly as incompetent and imperfect as I was in 1972.  

So why should this year be any different?

Because THIS year, I will set the bar lower— a good bit lower. 2012 won’t see me clipping coupons and feeding the family for a pittance. It will, however, be the year I will save a whole dime per week by buying the house brand of yogurt at the store instead of the Dannon’s (by next December I can treat the gang to $5.20 worth of fun). I may not—ever—win any Good Housekeeping prize, but I will remember to clean out the lint filter in the dryer, at least once in a while. I won’t put “run a 5K” down in ink anywhere, but I will happily vow to “walk from the house to the car on a regular basis.” I will add “and many more” to all my future Facebook birthday greetings. 
In the relationship arena, I will only have the last word in my arguments when I’m right. I will only interrupt if what I have to say is more important. I will only nag the kids when they aren’t doing something they should be doing, or when doing something they shouldn’t. This plan is guaranteed to improve my behavior by at least 1-2 %. At this rate, 100% improvement is a mere 50-100 years away!

I will also pad the list with things I will, reliably, NOT do. This year, I promise:

Not to play, or watch, pro football. Not to vacation on Fiji. Not to skydive or jet ski or go spelunking. I will not win an Academy Award, or a Nobel, or the lottery. No counted cross-stitch for me, or preserving the bounty from my garden (canned gout weed, anyone?) No checking the oil in the car (after 39 years as a driver, I couldn’t even begin to tell you how to do that). 

It’s shaping up to be a great and extremely doable list. I anticipate success upon success. When I toast 2013, I’ll be able to look back with pride on the year when I kept every single one of my New Year’s resolutions.  

And how many people can say that?

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