Now that we are approaching the end of January, I figure it is high time to write down some New Year’s resolutions. That gives me a little lay of the land so I can predict what 2016 has to offer. I’m not sure I have ever written on this subject, much less thought about it.
We all know that New Year’s resolutions are made to be broken. I am a well-known failure when it comes to meeting goals and keeping promises, so this year I decided to bite the bullet and to go public with my spinelessness. That my world-wide readership will be there pulling for me might just make a difference. The fact that my readers will surely shame me if I welch means I might take this resolution thing more seriously. Maybe.
“Serious” in this case means “doable.” I figure, why plan on doing the impossible? For instance, I’m not setting a goal to become an Eagle Scout. Not achieving that honor is a failure in my life, but there’s no turning back. Eighteen is the age limit for being an Eagle Scout. I turned that corner almost 50 years ago. So I won’t be setting that as a goal.
Also, I won’t be striving to become an NFL lineman this year. I am too old and fat and way too fragile for the gridiron. I break easily and have an allergy to pain. Playing professional football is not happening for me, but there are goals yet to be achieved, and I (predictably) have prepared a list:
• I am going to exercise less. I think I can pull this one off. Although I understand the benefits of exercise and although I do enjoy my Silver Sneakers class, I could cut back one day and not really suffer too much. It’ll be a bit harder now that my wife is attending with me, but I’ll see what I can do.
• I am determined to gain weight. I think I can eat more. I am not what you’d call morbidly obese, but I have a fat torso. I think I need to get my arms and legs in closer proportion to the rest of my body. In other words, get in shape. Oval comes to mind.
• I need to drink more. Although I enjoy a glass of wine with supper, I am certainly no lush. When I see others around me slurring their words and falling into their soup, I feel like I could be missing out on something. In 2016, I plan on joining in the fun. And while I’ve never had a DUI, it might be something to think about.
• Speaking of driving, I’m going to slow down in 2016. I already consider myself a teenager’s worst nightmare while I’m behind the wheel. I drive a huge old Cadillac and I drive the speed limit. From behind, all a zit-faced driver can see is tail fins, a shock of white hair and red! I love making young drivers mad and I’m going to do more of that this year. I have a theory that old drivers and rap music cause acne in teenagers. Let’s put that idea to the test.
• I will (seriously) plan on sleeping more. I could hardly sleep less than I do now. When I return from my little trip to Florida I’m scheduled to take a sleep test. That means they’ve already got my name on a c-pap machine. I’m going to try it, but I’m not going to like it. I’ll feel like Lloyd Bridges descending into the depths.
• I am going to try and accumulate some more tools. Screwdrivers mystify me and I have over 100 of them. Power tools and I do not get along. but I have enough of them to build a cathedral. Whenever I read about a tool, I have to have it and I don’t see that changing this year.
• I’m going to strive to be a little messier. I’m going to learn to ignore those clothes on the floor and I’m going to forego loading or emptying the dishwasher. Although I’m not a fan of paper plates, they are looking more and more like an option for me.
• I think I’d like a few more pets. I’ve had almost every kind of pet, both legal and illegal. I’ve had a monkey and a raccoon. I’ve had parrots and canaries. We’re down to one three-pound dog now and she’s housebroken. We need a big dog and a few cats, or maybe one of those miniature horses, or a billy goat to give our house and our motor home that “lived in” look.
I’m sure there are other things I’ll need to consider. One thing I know I’ll need to work on is my agility, for when Elise reads this there is sure to be a cast iron skillet headed my way.

Boyce “Stick” Miller is an award-winning columnist living in Americus, Ga. Contact him at stickmiller@gmail.com