Showing posts with label Llamas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Llamas. Show all posts

Friday, January 1, 2016

My Realistic New Year's Resolutions

     Before the ball drops in Times Square, we have our New Year's resolutions figured out. We toast to a prosperous year ahead and have every intention of following through on our resolutions.

     And it works....for about three months. It's easy to get sidetracked from our goals by stress, boredom and a really good plate of pasta marinara. Over the years, I've learned not to make such stringent resolutions for myself. What's the point? I know I'm going to break them anyway, since I'm as easily distracted as a six-year-old in the toy aisle at Target.

     When I was in my early twenties, it was simple to make a bucket list of things I wanted to do for the coming year. Hop on a plane to Paris, explore the Greek islands, or run with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain. Now that I've hit my middle-age years, I'd be lucky to run with the llamas in Bolivia.

     My expectations are lower these days, freeing me from the guilt trips I faced when I broke my resolutions early in the new year. I know what I'd like to see happen in the coming year, but I'm a realist, and frankly, if I can get through the next twelve months without breaking any bones or needing cholesterol medication, I'd call the year a success.


 Lose Weight
     Resolution: I'm going to lose these extra pounds that have inflated my waistline like the Goodyear Blimp. I'll just cut back on portion size, skip the carmel lattes and eat more leafy greens.
     Reality: Is that a bag of Doritoes?

Exercise More
     Resolution: I'll join a gym so that I can be in shape for swimsuit season. Working out with weights every day will get rid of my underarm wing flaps so that I'm no longer mistaken for a sugar glider.
     Reality: I haven't been to the gym in three months because I'm too damn busy. I have dirty laundry piled higher than the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range, and there's a colony of dust bunnies breeding under my couch. I'm terminally tired and easily swayed by the sweet siren song of my memory foam mattress. I'll go to the gym tomorrow, I promise.....

Save Money
     Resolution: I need to put more money into my retirement fund. Winnebagos aren't cheap.
     Reality: My appliances have different plans for me this year. With a weeping toilet, an ornery washing machine, and a dishwasher that gave up the ghost two days ago, the only recreational vehicle  I'll be driving after retirement is a Vespa.

Drink Less
     Resolution: It's bad enough that my brain isn't as sharp as it used to be when I was in my twenties. I need more gingko biloba and less tequila.
     Reality: Wait a minute---have I had two margaritas, or three? How can I cut back on drinking if I can't remember my resolutions by the time I've had my second drink?

Get More Sleep:
     Resolution: I'm going to get to bed earlier instead of staying up late every night to watch Netflix.
     Reality: I'm only going to watch one more episode of Downtown Abbey and then I swear I'm going to bed.

Spend Less time On The Internet
     Resolution: Social media is a time-suck. I'm going to deactivate all my accounts and focus on socializing with my real friends, not the ones who live inside my computer.
     Reality: I need to see the latest food porn photos on Instagram and Facebook to find out what my friends are eating for lunch. Hopefully Pinterest has some clever recipes for deconstructed tuna casserole since I'm obviously not going to have time to cook tonight.

     I've accepted the fact that I suck at keeping New Year's Resolutions. For this reason, I'll be happy to raise my glass when the ball drops and toast to a future filled with long naps, Netflix, and maybe a llama or two.

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