Happy New Year!

Nothing quite says ‘Happy New Year’ like a dashing fellow sporting a finely kept mustache, leaning ever so gingerly upon a vase of brightly hued blooms, holding a piglet.

Ah, vintage postcards . . .

The older I get the more I find solace in their quirkiness. It’s as if those of the past whisper, “Never fear, love–we had crazy, too.”

Speaking of which, if I had to choose a word for 2018, that would be it: crazy. From headlines to all manner of “offense,” it seemed positively batty. And rather than ignore it (as I’m wont to do), I chose to spiral down the rabbit hole . . . reading articles and posts from both sides of debate; scratching my head, shaking my head, and, occasionally, bursting forth in nervous laughter.

Here’s what I learned from the whole experience: that will never do.

So my goal for 2019 is quite simple. I intend to step off the crazy train.

To start, we’ve cancelled cable. We intend to fill those hours reading and writing, maybe partaking in a rousing game of cribbage, or hand and foot.

And I plan to be more intentional. To do what I can, where I am: to shake off excess; organize; have faith; keep in touch.

Do wish me luck. It certainly won’t be smooth sailing; after all, I spent a good year being appalled into inaction; and therefore, something of a flake. . . . also, I’ve already lost the address book I purchased.

But I’m nothing if not determined.

With that, I return the favor. Happy New Year, my friend–and best of luck to you!

A good reason to celebrate

I get to spend the weekend with these two goofballs. The fellows shall golf and we shall . . . well, who really knows what we shall do, but I’m fairly certain it will involve shenanigans of one sort or another.

And laughter, we mustn’t forget the laughter.

Of all the things my mom has taught me, laughter may be the most important. It lays such a strong foundation. As a matter of fact, I attribute a good dose of humor (and the ability to make the best of what you’ve got) as the reason I’ve always enjoyed the likes of Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day . . . even when I wasn’t in love; even though I’ll never be a mama.

A light heart, with nary a hint of bitterness? Now that’s a precious gift–and one of the many reasons I look forward to celebrating her this weekend.

With that, I hope you’re headed into a weekend of celebration all your own (with or without Mother’s Day). Better yet, I hope the hours are filled with the music of laughter, and memories that carry with them a lifetime of happiness.