Resolution redux

It's that post-holiday time of year, when every third commercial is about dieting, gym memberships, or unbelievably buff people touting exercise machines that cost more than my first car. After a few days of these spots, I start thinking about resolutions for the new year. Maybe fitness would be a good place to start, I ponder. Something besides tummy crunches. I make a few pseudo-kung-fu moves.

"Hee-ah!" I try out a kick in front of the television. It feels impressive. I try a couple more, a little bit louder. "Hwah! Hoo-hah! Hee-ah!"

Suddenly I hear my husband's voice from the next room. "I'm hearing weird sounds," he says. "Did the cat just throw up?"

Okay, maybe fitness isn't my strongest suit. I could work more, but I already spend enough time at the desk to have a pitiful lack of hobbies. The last fiction I read was a brochure at the doctor's office touting the joys of broccoli. And while I do watch TV, I don't think George Lopez can count as a viable pastime.

Maybe it's a good year to get organized. First, I'll need a pencil, some paper, and a new calendar. I begin searching through old Barnes & Noble bags for the calendar. No luck. My husband suggests I look in the filing cabinet. Ha! That man and his crazy notions. However, sometimes he does have an occasional helpful thought. I open the filing cabinet gingerly, just in case a giant spider has taken up residence in there since the last time I filed papers. Instead, I find lots of other cool stuff, like a box of dried-up ink pens from 2002, a box of stuck-together envelopes, and three pristine calendars, still in the shrink-wrap. Eureka! I take a closer look at the date. Two of the calendars are for 2001, and the other is for 1999. Undeterred, I open the box of pens, take one, and do the zero scribble on an envelope for about three minutes. I'm encouraged by bits of blue appearing in the grooved circles, so I consider my calendar options, then go with the 1999 Scooby-Doo calendar, a classic. I begin scribbling in potential goals on each month, like "Write best-seller" and "Find good tuna recipe."

Just then, my own personal Scrooge peeks over my shoulder. "You know, that calendar is sadly out of date."

"Don't stomp on my dreams," I reply, writing in a note to lose hubby's socks in March.

He shakes his head and leaves, mumbling something about institution and commitment. It gives me such a warm glow when he talks about our marriage, so I carve in (the pen has quit working by this time) a reminder to lose only half of his socks; this gives him a warm foot to stand on. My goals now set, I wander back to the living room, wait for the Ab Killer commercial to end, then relax with a well-deserved glass of wine. I think it's wine, anyway. I do vaguely remember buying some grape juice last July. I sip delicately from my plastic Shrek glass, comforted by the fact that the new year is all planned out, and I've got everything under control. I ignore the giant crash from the kitchen, followed by a plaintive 'Meow?' Yep, everything's under control. Best of all, George Lopez is coming up next.

Have a wonderful New Year's Eve, everyone!

Procrastination, Part Duh

Just days after I wrote about my lifelong habit of putting things off, I made a pilgrimage to Barnes and Noble to offer up my debit card on their altar of books. I have several weaknesses, but two of the strongest are tote bags and calendars, so it seemed like kismet when I stumbled across Do It Later!-A 2008 Planner (or Non-Planner) for the Creative Procrastinator by Mark Asher. It's a great little desk planner that comes complete with designated doodle space on nearly every page, tidbits of comforting procrastinator wisdom ("Research shows that there's a 50 percent chance an undesirable task will disappear if left undone for thirty days") and activities ("Write a lengthy, thoughtful journal entry about your troubles in getting motivated to work.") Egad, this man can see into my soul!

My favorite pages, though, are the lists, both fill-in-the-blank and helpful hints, like Ten Things to Say to Annoy an Uptight Perfectionist, or my personal favorite, How to Make Killer Art out of Office Supplies. In fact, I'm already clearing out my drawer organizer in preparation for that Zen Garden. Basically, it's a fun calendar with lots of reasons to write in it other than to mark how many days it's been since I've sent in a query or an invoice.

The only quibble is when the calendar starts; the first page jumps right in there on Dec. 31, 2007. If it were really for procrastinators, it would start around March 2, 2008. I don't think I've ever written in a calendar before March, so this will be a new, exciting experience.

Now, if he'd only come out with a matching tote bag.