Monday, December 31, 2007

TIME TO MAKE YOUR RESOLUTIONS

I am very good about making New Year's Resolutions.  I'm just not worth a darn in keeping any of them.
 
Five years ago I decided to simplify my resolutions.  But the list down from 43 or so to just 5 good ones.  I had way too many.  I wanted to pick 5 that were really worthwhile.
 
Here it is five years later and I have the same resolutions.  Each year I just scratch out the date at the top of the page and insert a new date.  2008 coming up!
 
My number one resolution is always to lose weight.  I don't put how many pounds I want to lose.  But it's a lot.  A friend told me I was so fat it was like carrying an overweight housewife around all day.  Along with her Kirby vacuum cleaner.  Those things weigh a ton.  I keep gaining weight every year but I think it's the woman that's gaining the weight.  It's no wonder I move slowly.  It wouldn't be so bad if she would vacuum once in a while while I waddle around.
 
My number two resolution is always to clean my office and get organized.  I don't really care about this one.  I just put it on the list mainly for my wife.  She thinks I need to get organized.  She's afraid I am going to die and she will have to deal with all the stuff.  Personally I think being organized is highly overrated.  You file stuff away and you have no idea what you have or where you put it.  Last year I hit upon the idea of putting everything in stacks and putting the stacks behind me so they are out of sight.  This way I feel organized.  Out of sight; organized.  I used to have an assistant and she filed all my stuff.  Or so I thought.  She put it in file drawers chronologically.  When I would ask her for a certain thing she would always ask me, "When was that Mr. Adams?"  And then she would start searching.
 
One of my other resolutions is to read one good book a month.  I've since scratched out "a month" and also the word "good".  That should make it easier.
 
My goal to get healthy is giving me a lot of trouble.  I've had cancer surgery, six eye operations, and a stroke which I have been recovering from for the past five months.  Don't get me wrong.  I'm not whining.  I know that doo-doo happens.  And I was brought up to accept things as God's will.  But I am beginning to wonder, WHY ME? 
 
What I really want to do this year is WAIL.  I want to build a Wailing Wall out back.  I admire those old middle eastern women who are out wailing their lungs out.  They are not crying.  They are wailing.  And I think it's probably very therapeutic.  I've tried it a few times.  It always makes the dog bark and my wife yells, "Stop that wailing you crazy old man."  But so be it.  I plan to wail if my newspaper gets wet.  I'll wail when I misplace my keys.  WAIL, WAIL, WAIL.  I may let my neighbors come over and wail at the Wailing Wall.  We might have to have certain hours for
wailing so we don't become a public nuisance.
 
I've joined a gym and I have a personal trainer now.  This is part of my quest to get healthy and fit. I almost didn't join because they had a 5-page questionnaire you had to complete.  One question was: have you ever been on a diet?  I said: Yes.  Then they asked: Did you lose weight?  I said: Yes.  They wanted to know how much weight I lost.  I said: 3 pounds.  They asked: How long were you on a diet?  I said: 32 Years.  Which is the truth.
 
My trainer is a cute woman so I will probably continue to go.  My therapist before this was a guy who looked like a chipmunk.  He was a drum major in school and wore a kilt.  He wouldn't tell me whether he wore underwear or not.  But I'm sure he did.  He wouldn't be a high-stepping drum major without his drawers on. 
 
At the gym they have big colorful rubber balls in the back.  People use them to exercise.  I thought they were training seals.  When I found out that people lay across these balls and do various exercises, I told her flat out that I wasn't getting on a ball.  And I want to take this opportunity to say publicly to the person who invented these balls for exercise: STUPID. STUPID. STUPID.  Whatever happened to touching your toes?
 
 

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