On any given New Year’s Day, I start out, always, with the best of intentions. I resolve to carry through with certain goals/outcomes for the year. I think of New Year’s like the first day of school, with brand-new, blank pages in a notebook or gleaming white screens on a laptop. Full of promise and dreams.
It’s the second-chance syndrome, where your inner critic sits on your left shoulder, hissing into your ear, “Hey slacker, I’m going to let you off the hook. This time.”
So every New Year’s Day, I again sign myself up for the impossible mission of following through.
But soon, maybe three weeks into it, the lagging and foot-dragging begin. You know what I mean.
New Year’s Day finds me reflecting on some of my past resolutions and their outcomes:
- The gym membership card stays in my wallet, no longer scanned at the door. For that matter, I don’t even get as far as the door.
- My spice cupboard slowly regains its chaotic “Where’s Waldo” demeanor.
- The “stack” of books in my Kindle registers only 10% of each book read or maybe, if the author is lucky, 55%. I can’t finish them, despite resolving to do so. Sometimes, I blame the lingering effects on the pandemic, but that’s not the whole story.
- As for the pile of real, print books in my office? They look lovely wainscotting the shelves or lined up on my desk, snuggling like kittens between old metal bookends. Dust collects – no, I don’t dust as often as I should – and silverfish rub their hands in glee at the meals they will enjoy. (If they had hands, that’s what they’d do, I am sure of it.)
- And, last but not least – for there’ve been many resolutions over many years – there’s this blog, which I neglect, falling down on the job of consistent posting for one lame reason or another. This literary (?) baby of mine will be celebrating 15 years of existence this year.
Scads of New Year’s resolutions articles, puff pieces, and Instagrams flood the screens year after year. This post is just one more joining its brethren in cyberspace.
Yet I am resolute about something for 2023:
I will write more about books that speak to me in our troubled times. Not necessarily food-related books. I’ve thought about creating a Substack newsletter, but an astute friend of mine remarked that while my Substack newsletter might cost potential readers “only” $5 a month, subscribing to four such newsletters brings that reader’s monthly outlay to $20….
Therefore, I will continue to offer content on “Gherkins & Tomatoes” for free
Happy New Year’s Day to you!!