It’s that time of year when the bloglands are filled with resolutions, and plans to do this and not that, and goals, and promises, and sweet little recaps of the closing year.
Normally I’d be cranking out my master list of 101 things I would like to consider tackling in the next 365 days… but this year I need a change.
A HUGE change. We’re talking ginormous. Godzilla times a million big. Because last year chewed me up, and then threw me away with the bath water. Cold bathwater, up the creek too, between a rock and a hard spot.
I’m sure there were some good parts dangled in front of me last year. Like a visit from a dear friend. My 60th sale on Etsy. Getting a cell phone that actually worked. But the bad parts trumped the good. And then were topped with even more bad sprinkles just to keep it lively. Like loosing my FIL, and while trying to make plans to make it up to him, flinging hot oil onto my contact lens.
Or like right before Christmas, being excited to have almost all of the shopping done. And having my shop doing somewhat well. And then having a cyst flare up to the size of a golf ball, then having the husband’s company CANCEL Christmas bonuses (Hey! If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I’d like Frank Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane with all the other rich people and I want him brought right here, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where’s the Tylenol?), while your oven is deader than a doorknob, then your door knob breaks, in the lock position, then your husband’s car needs over $500.00 worth of work, then you go to the ER where they knock you out with oddles of drugs, and company is on the way, and just announces they will be staying for Christmas. (Where do you think you’re going? Nobody’s leaving. Nobody’s walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. We’re all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We’re gonna press on, and we’re gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he’s gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse.)
Last year needs to choke and die a slow and painful death. And it best not leave any of its baggage with this year. Or I’ll be learning how to blog with my arms tied behind me in a spiffy white coat. How I wish I was joking.
So my plans and goals for 2014? In general, to buckle down, to burn last year’s calendar, and to pray for the best. After all, the best laid plans can blow up in your face, and things can always get worse (and probably will), tomorrow may not ever be.
We have to live, knowing, that today is where we are supposed to be. Right here in the now, that’s our purpose. And that’s my goal.
So 2013, Can I refill your eggnog for you? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to the middle of nowhere and leave you for dead?
Fine. I’ll just go back to knitting, and watching Christmas Vacation for the millionth time. ;)