Un-resolution.

A flier for discounted gym memberships arrives with my mail, and a coupon for new storage bins arrives in my inbox, reminders that I am inadequate, that there are so many things that I need to fix. My post-baby body, my less-than-vegan-sometimes-french-fry-laden diet, my closet cluttered with art supplies and un-filed paperwork, my impulse to buy just one more sweater, my stack of to-be-read that seems to to always be growing and never shrinking, the first two chapters of the novel I started five years ago. A new year is upon us, and I feel compelled to set forth a laundry list of new resolves, bad habits to break and new habits to form.

But I don’t feel like I’m all that broken. And I really do love french fries and sweaters.

Thus I have decided to abstain from making any sort of resolutions for the new year. I will run when the weather is warm and someone can watch the kids, I will eat french fries when I want them, I will swear at the closet when I can’t find the one pair of scissors I know is in there, I will buy the sweater if I love it and can afford it, and I will read and I will write when I can steal the moments to do so.

Just like I did in 2013.

I am healthy, I am loved, and I am happy. I would be delighted with more of the same for 2014.

Happy new year.

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