Seriously – when we remind ourselves that the Son of God willingly agreed to come to earth as a baby, to experience diaper rash and teething in order to save mankind from itself, we respond with fervent promises of weight loss and more diligent work habits. We try to be worth that sacrifice by resolving to get up at half past dark and go for a run in the frigid morning air. And when our initial attempts are not, in fact, greeted with a multitude of the heavenly host in the eastern sky, we gradually sputter back into old habits and inertia.
Or maybe that’s just me. I think New Year’s Resolutions are corny, and only end up as seeds in my already overgrown garden of personal disappointment. Sure, I can give up swearing, smoking, eating chocolate or mainlining caffeine for a month at a time, forty days if I’m feeling particularly New Testament. But forever? Way too open-ended.
So these are not New Year’s Resolutions. These are New Month goals. Little thirty-day endurance tests, 5Ks rather than marathons (oh, right, “complete a marathon” – that was a 2007 resolution, wasn’t it . . .?) . Baby steps, people. I can do anything for thirty days.
1. Start a blog. See? That wasn’t hard, was it? I love to write, I have a lot of opinions about a lot of things, and I’m oh, so very tired of bumper-sticker conversations. Some thoughts require more than a tweet – actually most thoughts do. (“Eight am, standing in line at Starbucks waiting for my dbl latte, think I saw Leo DiCaprio, global warming’s bad and so are Republicans” – really, that’s the best we can do?) And in order to have an intelligent point of view, I’ve got to read well-reasoned stuff, talk to thoughtful people about things that matter, and sift through it all to find what makes sense to me. I want to take the time to think about the big things and the little things. I want to be part of the on-going global conversation. Who knows what I might have to offer?
2. Cook the way my grandmother used to cook. Put aside the boxes of processed high fructose corn syrup and the packets of powdered cheese, and pick up a vegetable. Explore some grains besides white rice and elbow macaroni. Figure out what actual spices taste like, and use them to make food taste fantastic, instead of relying on fatty, cholesterol-raising sauces. If my grandmother would have to ask what exactly an ingredient on the side of the box is (I’m looking at you, monosodium glutamate and Red No. 40), I don’t have to put it in my mouth. When I find something particularly wonderful, I’ll be sure to share it with you.
3. Treat myself well. I know that sounds selfish, but you don’t know me yet. My friend Lolo actually wrote me a letter a couple of years ago begging – begging – me to stop dressing like a bag lady. 2011 is the year I make good on that deal. As Patti LaBelle once sang, “I’ve got a new attitude!” Okay, so for a while after that song came out, I was sure she was proclaiming, “I’ve got a new pair of shoes!” Which is handy, because I’ve discovered a new, and apparently long buried, fascination for four-inch platform stilettos. It’s all part of a fiendish plot to make my minister hubby lose his train of thought in the middle of his sermon some Sunday morning. But I digress. For thirty days, I think I can work on exercising my mind, feeding my body good healthy food, and making sure I walk out the door looking sharp.
And if it shortens that sermon by a minute or ten, that’s cool, too.
Warmly,
danablue
Warmly,
danablue
