I resolve to…
I pledge to…
I promise to…

New Years Resolutions are like paper airplanes: easy to make, but difficult to keep airborne for the long haul. So, as in 2009 and 2010, I’ve tried to either stay away from them altogether, or keep them more or less non-specific.

This year, I’m afraid I must break that tradition. Two thousand eleven is the year for improving my health. Over the past twelve months, I’ve joked about several medical procedures, falls, kitchen accidents, sore muscles, aching joints, weight gain, fatigue and general malaise. Well it’s time to stop joking around. The biggest revelation upon ruminating about 2010 was the increasing fragility of my person. I have to work on that. It’s not funny anymore.

I want to be around to see my grandchildren grow up. Outside of that, I’m not making any plans. If I make it that far, it’s going to be because I took better care of myself — inside and out. Longevity is a gift, and it must be treasured and carefully tended. I’ve seen the rare example here and there of someone who lives a long life with virtually no health problems while doing nothing to take care of his or her body — but that wouldn’t be my luck. So I must take the controls and pilot the paper airplane. No one’s going to do it for me.

Last year, I promised to “do more good, love my family more, treat myself better.” I think I pulled that off in several respects, although I’m certain I could have done more. Still, those promises were pretty generic. Now it’s time to get specific; low-down and sneaky, as an old musician friend used to say (RIP, Kenny Hoffman).

So off we go. Start your engines…

Happy Birthday (yesterday) to my baby boy Lars, and Happy Anniversary to the Thriller and me this day. ‘Tis a weekend to celebrate, so after coffee and letting out Helen & Lars’s pups, off to Detroit we go, for a day trip.  Why a day trip? Because I won’t be caught dead in downtown Detroit on New Year’s Eve. Well maybe I actually would be…

We’ll see how crowded everything is. Yipes.

Happy New Year, my fiends — after the last two, we all need one in 2011.

FO

Yep, that could just about describe me.

Bakery boxes at wholesale; imprinting or not? Are the box measurements right? How many Doodles will it hold? Inserts have to be food-grade. How does this stupid shopping cart software work? Ah, we don’t have to charge sales tax since it’s food. Praise Jesus, Mary & Joseph. Comparison shop. We need a good caricature artist for our logo. Gotta call the ODA today to schedule the inspection. Need to open a bank account. Business license form all filled out; just need Mavis’s signature. Must call Hannah to see if I can grab the boys for an overnighter this week.

Yep — saved the most important detail for last.

So, are we back to work today? I must say I’m happy to have this week “off.” Shyeah right. OK, back to it. Happy Monkday, fiends. Get at me.

Random Neuron Firings

This never fails to crack me up:

He’d stay out there all morning. And yet, this is the same dog that commandeers my electric blanket if it happens to slide to the floor, and tries to lie down on people’s feet. Bizarre animule.

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The day after Christmas is sometimes a downer, because it signifies the work in front of me for Dinner Theatre. Don’t get me wrong: I love doing it. I just don’t know for how much longer…

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The Do Not Go Here site of the day. I mean it. Your wasted morning will not be my fault.

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Welp…the Chocodoodle recipe is locked down and locked away. I must say it is mighty tasty. All that remains is the inspection next month, and we’re cookin’ with gas. Then I build the website, Mavis gets started with stocking and prep, and we both start marketing like our lives depended on it. We *should* be ready to take St. Patrick’s Day orders come late January — if we have any customers to place them. Stay tuned.

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Today is shop for new music day for my middle school choirs. Much work to be done. But first, I smell Dunkin’ Donuts vanilla coffee — thank you Hannah & Seamus!

FO

Erm, that would be the Roman Numeral 30. Minds out the gutter, fiends. It’s Christmas Eve.

Yesterday was a blast. The Js came over for lunch and the afternoon. Jake was a busy man. He’d been making comments about a loose screw in a heating vent upstairs for quite awhile. He noticed it (and pointed it out to me) every time we’d come downstairs from bed or the potty. Well I asked him if he’d like to fix it, and he said, “Yeah!” So I got him one of Grandpa Thriller’s small screwdrivers, and off he went, doin’ work.

He had to run and tell Grandpa about it as soon as he got home from the store. There’s something about a three-year-old beaming after his grandfather says, “Wow, Jake, that’s great work! Thank you!” that gets me right here…

It was a rare day; both boys resisted the idea of naps. I’m a firm believer in naps, but also in the fact that sometimes, you’re just not tired. So Jake stayed up, but I ended up rocking Justin to sleep in his bedroom (for some reason, he preferred Grammie to his bed…no problem there). When I was sure he was out, I laid him on the floor. Behold the kid burrito:

After Hannah picked up the boys, it was time to get ready for Thursday Night Dinner and Movie with BFF Kay & Bob — Christmas Edition. After dinner, we exchanged gifts. The Thriller got Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots. Thus began a time of two __-year-olds regressing to junior high:

We watched Order of the Phoenix and ate cake and ice cream. It was a grand day and evening. And now we gear up for the pièce de résistance — Christmas with the Fink family. Can’t wait for tonight.

I feel a huge New Year’s resolution coming…ugh. Fly me over the Super Bowl.

Merrry Christmas Eve!