First of all, I hope you had a great Christmas. I know I did. Because I got my very first Kindle! And a super-soft North Face jacket! And a pair of fur-lined moccasins! And a bunch of other stuff I don’t really remember, but that’s okay. Because what really matters is that with all my awesome new gifts, I can now sit and stare at yet another screen, and I’ll be toasty warm while I do it. Now, the only thing I need is a mini-frig and a portable toilet by my recliner, and I won’t have to move for the rest of the winter. As soon as the first snowflakes begin to fall, I can hibernate like a bear…and if I zip my head inside this new, black furry jacket, I might even look like one. How cool is that?
Anyway, now that Christmas is over, I’m moving on to thoughts of the New Year. But before we wash our hands of the past twelve months, lets reflect on them for a moment, shall we?
So all kinds of celebrity couples have called it quits this year, some at rates so fast it makes my head spin. And by the way—who created that phrase? A person with a literally spinning head? Because if someone out there can do this, I would love to see it. I want them to teach me their skills. Because I’m really quiet at parties, and it would be so great to pull this trick out when I can’t think of anything to say.
“What’s on your mind, Amy?” someone might ask. And instead of the profound “Uh…uh…uh…” I usually manage to utter, wouldn’t it be cool if I could say, “Watch this!” and start spinning my head around on my neck like top? Imagine the chatter! Imagine the attention! Imagine the people who would suddenly want to be my friend! “Did you see that awesome trick she can do?!?” they’d say. “Let’s invite her back next time!”
Let’s stick her in a cage next to the three-armed bearded lady and make money.
Whatever. I’ll take what I can get.
Anyway, the list of this year’s no-longer-together celebrities is as endless as Lady Gaga’s rotating weird outfits. There’s Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries (lasted two months, but at least they tried everything), Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore (didn’t see that one coming. Seriously. No, really), Mel Gibson and his wife (can’t remember her name, but weren’t they divorced, like, five years ago?), and lastly, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Maria Shriver (though at the time of writing, they appear to be working things out. Three cheers for them!).
There are lots more, but the list is depressing. And since I’m sitting here on Christmas break in fifty-degree weather with not a snowflake in sight, depression is not something I need more of. Weathermen, you disappointment me.
But all these break-ups got me thinking: Aren’t there ANY resolutions I can make, and keep, longer than Sinead O’Connor stayed married to what’s his name (sixteen days. Can you say, refund on the honeymoon?)? There has to be something.
So with much thought and yoga-esque breathing, here’s what I came up with. Sorta.
1. Take up yoga (except that I hate exercise, even the kind where you sit in the floor with your legs crossed doing nothing but humming. Although there’s a slight chance I have yoga confused with something else).
2. Give up Milk Duds (who are we kidding? I had to eat five just to type this).
3. Stop wasting money on movies (I’ll start this one in May—after the good movie season is over—because I have a list of about twelve to see already, and if I don’t see them it would practically be like breaking another resolution).
4. Learn to love cooking and cleaning (which will likely happen right after I hire a chef and a maid. Currently taking applications—doesn’t necessarily include pay).
5. Wake up on December 22nd. Because the Mayan calendar says I won’t, and I really want to laugh at their foolishness. But if I wake up that day and find I’m the only person left walking around in I Am Legend style, I’m gonna be so ticked off. Because I don’t like zombies, and something tells me they won’t feel threatened by my head-spinning trick.
Okay, so that’s it. My list is short. Trying to add more is just pointless to type and a waste of time for you to read. Because I stink at resolutions. I make them every year, and usually manage to break them before half-time of the Rose Bowl. I’m not proud of this. It fills me with shame. But I know my limitations.
Then again, I have made—and kept—two that I can remember in my many, many, many years of life.
In 2009, after years and years of saying I wanted to, I resolved to write a book. Since that time, I’ve written three. I’m currently writing the fourth.
And in 1993, I got married. I’ve stayed that way for almost nineteen years. Nearly as long as the age difference between Ashton and Demi.
Who says resolutions don’t work?
Happy (Almost) New Year