For most people it’s time to reflect back on the previous year, assess the good, correct the bad, and make promises to yourself that you’re never going to keep. I don’t do that. I quit making New Year’s resolutions a long time ago for pretty much the same reason I quit going to confession.
The reality is I’m going to continue to feel fat-tastic for a few more days while I finish off the rest of the holiday candy, and alternate between football, and season one of Game of Thrones (I’m hoping to see the warrior king naked a few more times before he dies). Once the fudge, the chocolate covered pretzels, and the all the cookies are gone, and bowl season is finished, I’ll hit the yoga studio and start walking Henri. I probably ought to do something about my eyebrows, too.
None of this is meant to say I’m not filled with bubbling optimism about the New Year (champagne counts, right?). So, I offer you this: my all-time favorite Shel Silverstein poem. It pretty much sums up my thoughts on New Year’s, new beginnings, and just life in general. Thanks for following our tales and tails; we’re glad you came in.
If you are a dreamer, come in.
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer . . .
If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax golden tales to spin.