A
few days ago during one of those rare occasions when our whole family
was together and my three semi-grown daughters weren't nursing an
iPhone while wearing universe-canceling headphones, my wife posed
probably the most oft-asked question this time of year: "Does anyone
have any New Year's resolutions?"
Although that conversation quickly took an off-ramp into a discussion
of something earth-shattering like Taylor Swift's armpits, it got
me thinking about my own potential resolutions, or, in my case, "anti-resolutions."
First, I am not resolving to worry about my weight or the general
decomposition of my anatomy this year. Now, don't get me wrong, I
will continue to participate in some daily geriatric exercise-ish
activities, and I will still attempt to avoid most foods that will
kill me if ingested in satisfying quantities, but I've reconciled
myself to the fact that I adore chips and salsa far too much to go
on anything resembling a diet. Life is just too short to do without
Tex-Mex.
Next, I am not resolving to be a "better person" in the new year.
Again, this doesn't mean I plan to be a bad person—or even a
worse person than I have been. I mean, I will continue to do my best
(with the good Lord's help) to follow the Ten Commandments, the Golden
Rule, state and federal law, my employee handbook, the Cub Scout Oath
and most local ordinances. But, at my age, I wonder if I haven't reached
my better-person "use by" date. My pets seem to like me (especially
at feeding time), my semi-grown daughters mostly tolerate my presence
(also especially at feeding time), I have a couple of friends who
will share a basket (or two, or three) of tortilla chips with me (and
let me eat most of them) and my wife hasn't left me (if she does,
I'm going with her). If I can keep all of that going, I'm good—unless
my wife tells me differently.
Next, I'm not resolving to spend time looking for things I lose this
year. The older I get, the more I seem to lose stuff. In particular,
I tend to lose one part/piece/component of something that comes in
a pair. The other day, I lost one of my workout gloves. Since keeping
my hands soft, smooth and supple is a priority, this really bothered
me—until I realized that wearing just one workout glove sort
of made me feel like the King of Pop at my local gym.
And speaking of the gym, I also like to wear a pair of knock-off AirPod
earbuds while I'm pumping a very limited amount of iron. Of course,
I recently lost one of my earbuds, and although I nearly resigned
myself to putting up with the uninspiring pop drivel (other than Taylor
Swift, of course) they play on the gym sound system, I soon found
out that listening to Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" in left-ear
mono is a new and exciting experience.
So there you have it—my anti-resolutions for 2024: no dieting,
no self-improvement and no worrying that I look like Michael Jackson
with a hearing aid when I exercise.
Happy New Year, and let me know if you'd like to join me for some
chips and salsa! |
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