2021 "Resolutions" - A Self-assessment

Not "weird," exactly. Photo by Joe

  

Before I get into my month-late Doomed New Year's Resolutions for 2022, I thought it might behoove me (yeah - I said behoove, so what) to take a look at last year's (such as they were), and see how I did. As you'll recall, I had a comprehensive list - and I even used bullet points. I know - fancy! 

I began by lamenting the Cat-5 dumpster fire that engulfed us in January 2021, and by declaring that my intention was to find the horizon and remind myself that all storms end. Eventually. Result: FAIL. Not my fault! I actually do see the horizon - quite often in fact, but the storm continues to rage, and it is sentient and malicious and promises to get worse or die trying. I'll keep working on this one in 2022, because what choice have I got?

Next, I promised to be twisted, and resolved to get the real camera(s) out and take some weird pictures. Result: FAIL. Oh, I took a few odd pictures...

Halloween Ice In Gatorade - Photo by Joe

[Maris]'s Gnomes Watching Miss Triple X-Mas - Photo by Joe

...Still watching. Photo still by Joe

Still a FAIL, though, for these were shot with my trusty iPhone, which is no slouch - but not exactly my Nikon - and two of 'em are from the very same minute! Wanna know how much action my Nikon saw in 2021? It shot eleven frames in total. Here's the best and weirdest one...

Yep. It's a bunny. Photo by Joe and his poor neglected D-80

See? Fail. Moving on...

• If the country continues to burn, I'm gonna toast some marshmallows. Result: FAIL. Not a single marshmallow was toasted. This year, for sure...
  
• I will become a better pickpocket, and not get caught all the time. Result: Qualified success. I didn't get caught once. See, you never fail if you don't try!
  
• I guess I'll try (harder) to avoid the plague like the plague. Result: SUCCESS! I totally didn't get the plague in 2021. Not even a little bit. As far as I know.
  
• Once the smoke clears - and yes, there will be smoke - I'm going to go downtown and take a good, long sniff, just to prove to myself that even the foulest four-year stenches can dissipate. Result: Qualified success. I was at Nats Park - not downtown. Smelled wonderful, though!
  
• I will finally find an editor or agent or something, and try to get my 2013 novel published. You guys know anyone? Result: FAIL. What is wrong with me???
  
• I'm going to go through the building where I work, and take down all the calendars. They're all stuck on March 2020, and they make me sad sometimes. Result (you would not believe the trouble I'm having typing "Result," today!): FAIL. That would've been too much work. I just took down the ones in my department.
  
• I will see the stars for what they are, and feel the cumulative age of their light. Result: SUCCESS! Kind of a cheat, though, because I'm already really good at this.
  
• Two words: ferrett-juggling. I guess that's one hyphenated word. Whatever. Gonna need one more ferret for this. Result: see below...
  
• I resolve to get one more endangered black-footed ferret, for the ferret-juggling, if [Maris] says yes. Result: see below...
• [Maris] said no. It'll have to be 2 ferrets and a panda. Result: FAIL. (sigh...)
• I'm going to get my grilled cedar-plank salmon to turn out as perfectly as my late father-in-law's always did. Result (copying/pasting "Result," now!): FAIL. I actually did attempt this one, and it wasn't bad - just a far cry from his.
• Gonna find my Ebn-Ozn t-shirt. Result: OH FFS I FORGOT TO LOOK FOR MY EBN-OZN T-SHIRT! A goal for 2022...
• Mirrored contacts. I've wanted them since I was fourteen. Result: FAIL. Who am I kidding?
  
• I resolve to take the Christmas tree down. Result: Success! Too easy.
  
• I will learn to like snow. HAHAHAHAHA just seeing if you're paying attention. Result: HAHAHAHAHA.
• Drink more water. I'm not going to do this. I'm telling YOU to drink more water. Please. Result: HA!
• Okay, I'll drink more water, too. There's water in gin, right? Result: If there is a trace of water in martinis, this was a resounding success.
• I will laugh at the typo on my 10 years of service certificate at work, every day - instead of rolling my eyes at it. Result: Qualified success. I don't look at it every day.
• I will demand a better future. Result: Technically I did this, and continue to do it, all the time. I even try on occasion to help make a better future - but have you any idea how HARD that is? It's like work.
• I will stop making lists. Result: FAIL.
• I will stop making lists. Result: FAIL.
• I will stop repeating myself. Result: FAIL.
• See what I did there? Ha!
  
• And I will hold [Maris]'s hand more - especially when she's trying to type. [blogger's note: on my phone, I have a shortcut set up so that when I type two m's, I get the full [Maris]. I keep trying that on this laptop, and obviously it doesn't work, and it wasn't until about the third try that I realized why.] Result: Success, I think. We're pretty committed to frequent hand-holding. Shut up - it's cute.
• I resolve to be a little smarter, maybe. Result: FAIL. Not my fault, though! You can't become smarter. More knowledgeable/less ignorant - sure. But not smarter.

There. Still here? Wow - you really are good sports - both of you! I promise to make my 2022 resolutions list shorter, and to use copy/paste more.

See you soon!

 

Summer Says Let's Not Divide Up The CD Collection Just Yet

It started early, this year, and it didn't surprise me at all.  

Okay, it surprised me a little, but only because I hadn't heard it in four years.  Here in the Mid-Atlantic, after three consecutive mild and relatively snow-free winters, our comeuppance came up, with a vengeance.  Worse than the winter weather itself has been its extended duration, its mule-headed refusal to go away.  

Foo Dog, Failing.

So, what started early?  The protestations started early, and right on their heels came the reflexive anti-complainer complaints.  "You'll be whining about the summer heat in no time," and "You'll be missing winter by June," and so on.

I will not.  I promise.  There are some things I need to tell you about Summer.

Summer is the first girl who ever holds your hand, and you instantly get drunk on it.

Summer whispers things in your ear - exciting, confusing, innocent and racy and dangerous things.  Coming from Summer, they all make perfect sense.

Summer says yes, it's hot.  You've spent months all covered up, bundled in layer upon layer, as if you're being shipped cross-country.  It's unnatural.  Now, let's have a look at you.

Summer sings to you at night, replacing the dead silence of winter with a sweet, invisible symphony.  

She wraps herself around you every time you step outside, and when she refuses to let go, it is out of love, not desperation.  She adores you, but if you leave her, she'll remind herself that life is short, and simply wrap herself around someone else.  Everyone else, actually.  Her willingness to love others leaves you desiring her even more.

Sometimes, Summer falls down, but she always thinks it's funny.

If Spring is the chase, Summer is the conquest.  And it's a mutual conquest - the very best kind.

Summer is comfortable in her skin, whether she's sleeping by the pool all day, or howling, thundering, and storming all night.  She is who she is.

Summer doesn't mind making you uncomfortable.  She'll bite you, sting you, make you sweaty, even lightheaded, and give you poison ivy - all of which remind you that you're alive.

Summer doesn't need to drink; she wants to drink.

She doesn't care where you've been - she's happy that now, you're here instead of there.  

Summer doesn't watch the news.  She loves baseball, but has no idea where her team is in the standings, and she doesn't care.

Summer says come sail away with me.

Summer Sails

She makes you stare, catches you staring, and smiles at you when she does.  If you don''t stare, that's okay, too - she knows she's hot.

She's a smiling stranger in an open car, peering mischievously over shiny sunglasses, tempting you to climb inside and take off into the still warm air, where you entertain thoughts of never going home.  Summer has nowhere to be, and everywhere to go.

As August becomes September, Summer kisses you with strawberry-stained lips, says she loves you, and promises to return.  Hers is one of the few promises that, over your lifetime, will never be broken.

She is the rarest of first-loves - the one that never dies.


Another post prompted by the words of a fellow blogger, this one springs forth from "strawberry stained lips," which can be found in Theinnerzone's post NUCLEUS, on the blog A Beetle with Earrings.  There are over five hundred bloggers at Studio 30 Plus - check us out...