I don't think I'm going to make any resolutions for 2007. Not because I'm opposed to it or can't think of anything I can improve on.
To the contrary, I could fill a hard disk with the areas in which I need improvement.
The reason I'm not making any is because I have enough unfulfilled resolutions from past years that, without every making another one, could easily last me a lifetime.
Every year, often with the benefit of clear thinking provided by a couple of martinis, I set out like Don Quixote to fix all the things that bugged me, or my wife, throughout the previous year.
At the time, somewhere between about 10 p.m. on Dec. 31 and 2 a.m. on Jan. 1, when the lights go out, literally and figuratively, I'm filled with the optimism of the promise of accomplishment-not unlike President Bush thinking he can win "the war" in Iraq.
The truth is, my record of success has been about the same as the president's, and my approval rating with my wife hovers within a point or two of catching GW.
My personal wars revolve around such things as losing weight (a national favorite) and reducing the clutter at home. Either that, or hanging a Chubby & Tubby's sign out front; finishing various projects around the house; building the wine racks in the closet under the stairs; going through the boxes of books in the garage so we can donate those that are donatable; terracing the bank in our back yard; finishing my novel and locating either an agent or small publisher willing to take a flyer on my being the next Tom Clancy; new clothes rods in my wife's closet...
The list goes on and on, which brings up the next problem.
Why do we make resolutions that we probably know we won't keep? Not that we don't want to, but we usually set such big goals, and so many of them, that we get overwhelmed with the task ahead once we've sobered up.
There's a well-worn adage-and one that should probably be retired-about how to eat an elephant: one bite at a time. It would seem unnecessary to point that out, not to mention the fact that pointing it out is a good way of making vegans gag.
Why don't we set small, simple goals that we know are a slam dunk? We might actually finish a couple of them and feel good about ourselves. We could then go out and celebrate our victory, a New Year's Eve, and then set a couple of more little goals.
Not only would we get more done this way, but we'd have an excuse to celebrate-perhaps every month, if we did a good job of setting small goals.
But we won't do that. It's human nature to shoot for the moon. We are not small thinkers, only small executioners. We like to tell our friends about our big resolutions, and visa versa.
When we've bagged the whole notion of accomplishing any of our resolutions, as have our friends, we all have the decency not to bring them up after, say, Feb. 1-no point in embarrassing each other with reminders of what we promised and failed to achieve.
Okay, I'll make one resolution: I'm going to rummage around and see if I have any of those old lists, dust them off and then sit down to ruminate-with a drink, of course-about how I might pull them off.
The wine racks, for instance-a sizable task that could be reduced by drinking some of the wine, so we don't need as many racks. Then the job begins to look doable.
The clutter? We'll put that one aside for now, because when the wine has been consumed and the racks are done; that will be the first step in reducing clutter.
A few more rain storms like we had in November, and the back hill will terrace itself.
Finishing my novel will be the easy part; convincing a publisher that I'm a can't-fail author will be the hard part. But, hey, when the going gets tough, the tough have another drink.
Look-here it is, not quite 2007, and I've already made progress on my new-old resolutions. I can't say with any certainty that my wife will view my achievements with the same enthusiasm I have, but at least I'm not setting her, or myself, up for any new disappointments.
Have a happy and safe New Year.I don't think I'm going to make any resolutions for 2007. Not because I'm opposed to it or can't think of anything I can improve on.
To the contrary, I could fill a hard disk with the areas in which I need improvement.
The reason I'm not making any is because I have enough unfulfilled resolutions from past years that, without every making another one, could easily last me a lifetime.
Every year, often with the benefit of clear thinking provided by a couple of martinis, I set out like Don Quixote to fix all the things that bugged me, or my wife, throughout the previous year.
At the time, somewhere between about 10 p.m. on Dec. 31 and 2 a.m. on Jan. 1, when the lights go out, literally and figuratively, I'm filled with the optimism of the promise of accomplishment-not unlike President Bush thinking he can win "the war" in Iraq.
The truth is, my record of success has been about the same as the president's, and my approval rating with my wife hovers within a point or two of catching GW.
My personal wars revolve around such things as losing weight (a national favorite) and reducing the clutter at home. Either that, or hanging a Chubby & Tubby's sign out front; finishing various projects around the house; building the wine racks in the closet under the stairs; going through the boxes of books in the garage so we can donate those that are donatable; terracing the bank in our back yard; finishing my novel and locating either an agent or small publisher willing to take a flyer on my being the next Tom Clancy; new clothes rods in my wife's closet...
The list goes on and on, which brings up the next problem.
Why do we make resolutions that we probably know we won't keep? Not that we don't want to, but we usually set such big goals, and so many of them, that we get overwhelmed with the task ahead once we've sobered up.
There's a well-worn adage-and one that should probably be retired-about how to eat an elephant: one bite at a time. It would seem unnecessary to point that out, not to mention the fact that pointing it out is a good way of making vegans gag.
Why don't we set small, simple goals that we know are a slam dunk? We might actually finish a couple of them and feel good about ourselves. We could then go out and celebrate our victory, a New Year's Eve, and then set a couple of more little goals.
Not only would we get more done this way, but we'd have an excuse to celebrate-perhaps every month, if we did a good job of setting small goals.
But we won't do that. It's human nature to shoot for the moon. We are not small thinkers, only small executioners. We like to tell our friends about our big resolutions, and visa versa.
When we've bagged the whole notion of accomplishing any of our resolutions, as have our friends, we all have the decency not to bring them up after, say, Feb. 1-no point in embarrassing each other with reminders of what we promised and failed to achieve.
Okay, I'll make one resolution: I'm going to rummage around and see if I have any of those old lists, dust them off and then sit down to ruminate-with a drink, of course-about how I might pull them off.
The wine racks, for instance-a sizable task that could be reduced by drinking some of the wine, so we don't need as many racks. Then the job begins to look doable.
The clutter? We'll put that one aside for now, because when the wine has been consumed and the racks are done; that will be the first step in reducing clutter.
A few more rain storms like we had in November, and the back hill will terrace itself.
Finishing my novel will be the easy part; convincing a publisher that I'm a can't-fail author will be the hard part. But, hey, when the going gets tough, the tough have another drink.
Look-here it is, not quite 2007, and I've already made progress on my new-old resolutions. I can't say with any certainty that my wife will view my achievements with the same enthusiasm I have, but at least I'm not setting her, or myself, up for any new disappointments.
Have a happy and safe New Year.How to nail those nasty New Year's resolutions I don't think I'm going to make any resolutions for 2007. Not because I'm opposed to it or can't think of anything I can improve on.
To the contrary, I could fill a hard disk with the areas in which I need improvement.
The reason I'm not making any is because I have enough unfulfilled resolutions from past years that, without every making another one, could easily last me a lifetime.
Every year, often with the benefit of clear thinking provided by a couple of martinis, I set out like Don Quixote to fix all the things that bugged me, or my wife, throughout the previous year.
At the time, somewhere between about 10 p.m. on Dec. 31 and 2 a.m. on Jan. 1, when the lights go out, literally and figuratively, I'm filled with the optimism of the promise of accomplishment-not unlike President Bush thinking he can win "the war" in Iraq.
The truth is, my record of success has been about the same as the president's, and my approval rating with my wife hovers within a point or two of catching GW.
My personal wars revolve around such things as losing weight (a national favorite) and reducing the clutter at home. Either that, or hanging a Chubby & Tubby's sign out front; finishing various projects around the house; building the wine racks in the closet under the stairs; going through the boxes of books in the garage so we can donate those that are donatable; terracing the bank in our back yard; finishing my novel and locating either an agent or small publisher willing to take a flyer on my being the next Tom Clancy; new clothes rods in my wife's closet...
The list goes on and on, which brings up the next problem.
Why do we make resolutions that we probably know we won't keep? Not that we don't want to, but we usually set such big goals, and so many of them, that we get overwhelmed with the task ahead once we've sobered up.
There's a well-worn adage-and one that should probably be retired-about how to eat an elephant: one bite at a time. It would seem unnecessary to point that out, not to mention the fact that pointing it out is a good way of making vegans gag.
Why don't we set small, simple goals that we know are a slam dunk? We might actually finish a couple of them and feel good about ourselves. We could then go out and celebrate our victory, a New Year's Eve, and then set a couple of more little goals.
Not only would we get more done this way, but we'd have an excuse to celebrate-perhaps every month, if we did a good job of setting small goals.
But we won't do that. It's human nature to shoot for the moon. We are not small thinkers, only small executioners. We like to tell our friends about our big resolutions, and visa versa.
When we've bagged the whole notion of accomplishing any of our resolutions, as have our friends, we all have the decency not to bring them up after, say, Feb. 1-no point in embarrassing each other with reminders of what we promised and failed to achieve.
Okay, I'll make one resolution: I'm going to rummage around and see if I have any of those old lists, dust them off and then sit down to ruminate-with a drink, of course-about how I might pull them off.
The wine racks, for instance-a sizable task that could be reduced by drinking some of the wine, so we don't need as many racks. Then the job begins to look doable.
The clutter? We'll put that one aside for now, because when the wine has been consumed and the racks are done; that will be the first step in reducing clutter.
A few more rain storms like we had in November, and the back hill will terrace itself.
Finishing my novel will be the easy part; convincing a publisher that I'm a can't-fail author will be the hard part. But, hey, when the going gets tough, the tough have another drink.
Look-here it is, not quite 2007, and I've already made progress on my new-old resolutions. I can't say with any certainty that my wife will view my achievements with the same enthusiasm I have, but at least I'm not setting her, or myself, up for any new disappointments.
Have a happy and safe New Year.I don't think I'm going to make any resolutions for 2007. Not because I'm opposed to it or can't think of anything I can improve on.
To the contrary, I could fill a hard disk with the areas in which I need improvement.
The reason I'm not making any is because I have enough unfulfilled resolutions from past years that, without every making another one, could easily last me a lifetime.
Every year, often with the benefit of clear thinking provided by a couple of martinis, I set out like Don Quixote to fix all the things that bugged me, or my wife, throughout the previous year.
At the time, somewhere between about 10 p.m. on Dec. 31 and 2 a.m. on Jan. 1, when the lights go out, literally and figuratively, I'm filled with the optimism of the promise of accomplishment-not unlike President Bush thinking he can win "the war" in Iraq.
The truth is, my record of success has been about the same as the president's, and my approval rating with my wife hovers within a point or two of catching GW.
My personal wars revolve around such things as losing weight (a national favorite) and reducing the clutter at home. Either that, or hanging a Chubby & Tubby's sign out front; finishing various projects around the house; building the wine racks in the closet under the stairs; going through the boxes of books in the garage so we can donate those that are donatable; terracing the bank in our back yard; finishing my novel and locating either an agent or small publisher willing to take a flyer on my being the next Tom Clancy; new clothes rods in my wife's closet...
The list goes on and on, which brings up the next problem.
Why do we make resolutions that we probably know we won't keep? Not that we don't want to, but we usually set such big goals, and so many of them, that we get overwhelmed with the task ahead once we've sobered up.
There's a well-worn adage-and one that should probably be retired-about how to eat an elephant: one bite at a time. It would seem unnecessary to point that out, not to mention the fact that pointing it out is a good way of making vegans gag.
Why don't we set small, simple goals that we know are a slam dunk? We might actually finish a couple of them and feel good about ourselves. We could then go out and celebrate our victory, a New Year's Eve, and then set a couple of more little goals.
Not only would we get more done this way, but we'd have an excuse to celebrate-perhaps every month, if we did a good job of setting small goals.
But we won't do that. It's human nature to shoot for the moon. We are not small thinkers, only small executioners. We like to tell our friends about our big resolutions, and visa versa.
When we've bagged the whole notion of accomplishing any of our resolutions, as have our friends, we all have the decency not to bring them up after, say, Feb. 1-no point in embarrassing each other with reminders of what we promised and failed to achieve.
Okay, I'll make one resolution: I'm going to rummage around and see if I have any of those old lists, dust them off and then sit down to ruminate-with a drink, of course-about how I might pull them off.
The wine racks, for instance-a sizable task that could be reduced by drinking some of the wine, so we don't need as many racks. Then the job begins to look doable.
The clutter? We'll put that one aside for now, because when the wine has been consumed and the racks are done; that will be the first step in reducing clutter.
A few more rain storms like we had in November, and the back hill will terrace itself.
Finishing my novel will be the easy part; convincing a publisher that I'm a can't-fail author will be the hard part. But, hey, when the going gets tough, the tough have another drink.
Look-here it is, not quite 2007, and I've already made progress on my new-old resolutions. I can't say with any certainty that my wife will view my achievements with the same enthusiasm I have, but at least I'm not setting her, or myself, up for any new disappointments.
Have a happy and safe New Year.[[In-content Ad]]
