For years, I made them. New Year’s Resolutions. Those guilt-laden, promise-breaking events that happen on (or around) every January first (insert any given year, here).
Yeah, for years, I broke every single one of them. I made a resolution to exercise.
I made a resolution to lose weight.
I made a resolution to get to work earlier every day so I could get more work done. (That’s the only one I really kept).
I made a resolution to call my mother/family more often.
You see where this is going, don’t you? Finally, one year, I didn’t make any resolution at all. That was a relief! But, as my mind had all this free time to spend in not feeling guilty and ashamed, well, I began to plot. Not just the usual characters and story lines that have plagued me through the years, but what if—what if—yes! Eureka!
What if I zeroed in on something I could do—a resolution that was a no-brainer? An assured item to place on my agenda that I could actually adhere to?
I’ve done that ever since. I’m sorry I didn’t write them down through the years, but these are a few examples of the resolutions that I have not only kept, but have never been tempted not to keep:
|1.||I resolved to give up my political career. Yep—that pesky notion I got every time an election rolled around to run right down to the election office and print my name on a form and slap down the fee for the privilege of getting publicly raked over the coals. Yeah—that one was gone and I never looked back.|
|2.||I resolved to give up pickled beets. Yes, I know there are tons of people who love pickled beets. I can’t count myself as one of them. Come on—they’re purple. Look, if you love pickled beets, I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll trade my pickled beets (and my nonexistent political career) for your broccoli or whatever vegetable you don’t like. (I’ll eat most any vegetable except pickled beets—resolution, you know).|
|3.||I resolved to quit smoking. Having never smoked anything (it’s true, I have terrible allergies) that one was a piece of cake. (No, I can’t give up cake. Birthdays, anniversaries, those pesky waiters who ask if you’re celebrating an event? That stuff will hound you until the end of time!) I recall at least one occasion years ago when friends informed the waiter at Red Lobster that it was my birthday. I suffered through the wearing of a foam rubber crustacean perched on my head while they all sang happy birthday. I was pissed. I don’t look good in crustacean.|
|4.||This past year, I resolved to give up my aspirations to be an Olympic Athlete. At my age, even curling is no longer an option, although at one point I did wield a mean broom. That’s it. I find something I can do—a resolution I can keep with no trouble. I feel less guilt and I have more time to write. It’s all good!|
|Reinvention/Reincarnation. Those words describe Connie best. She has worked as a janitor, a waitress, a mower of lawns and house cleaner, a clerk, secretary, teacher, bookseller and (finally) an author. The last occupation is the best one, because she sees it as a labor of love and therefore no labor at all.
Connie has lived in Oklahoma all her life, with brief forays into other states for visits. She and her husband have been married for more years than she prefers to tell and together they have one son.
|After earning an MFA in Film Production and Animation from the University of Oklahoma, Connie taught courses in those subjects for a few years before taking a job as a manager for Borders. When she left the company in 2007, she fully intended to find a desk job somewhere. She found the job. And the desk. At home, writing.
About the Blogger
I review Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance books with a focus all things werewolf. Based out of Ottawa, Canada