I say I want some resolutions

I will turn 50 in April (that’s not the actual resolution — it’s just the preamble to the resolution) and to celebrate I will run every race within 100 miles that’s been on my bucket list — plus any other races I discover that sound fun — all summer, culminating in a back-to-back three-day Disney 5K/10K/half marathon in November.

I won’t let up until I get a small group of runner friends to come to Disney World with me.

Plus any of their partners or spouses who want to cheer us on between days of helping us hobble through the parks.

You’ve been warned.

I will stop thinking PB&J and Diet Coke are an acceptable dinner.

I will stop lying to myself about giving up PB&J and Diet Coke for dinner.

I will stop launching scorched-earth Twitter fights with cousin-curious Trump supporters to the point that I make myself angry every time I open my Twitter notifications and discover that they still don’t know how to lose and shut up and go away like normal morons.

I will figure out how to stop my iPhone’s autocorrect from capitalizing Random (see? do you SEE what it’s Doing?) words in the middle of sentences.

I will figure out how to use the universal remote I bought for our TV.

I will use these accomplishments as the final credits I need to finally get my engineering degree.

I will start (or finish) reading all the books I bought (or received as gifts) in 2017 (or 2016) (or before that).

I will get the hint and cut my losses the first time someone shows me we don’t have much of a friendship and it’s never going to go anywhere.

I will bury my tinkle-colored bedroom walls in a deep, rich, handsome, masculine, adult color that I have yet to determine.

I will nag and complain without shame or reservation until we replace our pinky-beige, mousy-blah, suburban-horror Formica countertops with something that doesn’t make me want to hide under the sink and slowly die of mousy-blah ennui hastened by poisoning from any store-brand Formica cleanser we have stored there.

I will continue to cull and integrate and sell and give away the two-bedroom-apartment contents of my storage unit at least to the point that I can downsize to a smaller (cheaper!) storage unit.

I will not use my newfound storage-unit savings to binge on shoes.

Although one man’s “bingeing” is another man’s “stocking up.”

I will stop wasting time winding up the vacuum cleaner cord.

I will work harder (notice that I’m not giving myself any form of schedules or deadlines here) to post more frequent #ArtThrob essays about my favorite works of art.

I will stop accepting Facebook friend requests from strangers just because they’re cute.

I will stop accepting Facebook friend requests from strangers just because they’re cute.

I will stop accepting Facebook friend requests from strangers just because they’re cute.

I will finally join a gym. And maybe post some gym selfies once in a while to prove I’m going there.

I will avoid the New Year’s Day Rose Parade. And all other parades. Just like always. Because parades are stupid.

A few years ago I made a resolution to say or at the very least email or text something nice to somebody — longtime friend or random Internet stranger — every day. The resolution has slowly evolved to also include just texting or emailing a random hello to someone I haven’t talked to in a while. I’m sure I’ve missed a few days here and there, but overall it’s become a happy little daily habit that’s kept me in touch or even reconnected with people from every corner of my almost 50-year (ACK! How did that happen?) life (except for a handful of guys I’ve had longtime crushes on because I’d die inside whether they did or didn’t respond — and, sadly, at almost 50 years old (did I mention I’m almost 50?) I’m still kinda scared of guys I have high-school crushes on). Crippling insecurities aside, I’m renewing my daily-compliment-hello contract for yet another year. And I encourage all of you to consider trying something similar. Because it’s WAY cheaper than flowers. Or therapy. Happy 2018! :-)