Belated resolutions

It’s typically this time of year that I like to share my goals and aspirations for the next 12 months (also known as “resolutions,” but I didn’t want to chase everyone off in the first sentence). I know, the New Year officially started 17 days ago, but like most residents of Southwest Colorado, I’ve had a little trouble getting out of the gates. Not to mention my house. Although I guess I shouldn’t complain, because at least I was spared being crushed by a falling tree, which is more than I can say for that poor guy’s car down the block. (I’ll refrain from any “dude, where’s my car” jokes, mostly out of fear of karmic retribution.)

Aside from that, I’ve been toiling day and night to clear my sidewalk so as not to incur the wrath of city-hired “contractors.” Which, by the way, I totally agree with. Being someone who regularly pedestriates, often with small children in tow, I can attest to the difficulties of trying to navigate a double Bob stroller down a black-ice riddled, slot-canyon of a death march posing as a sidewalk. Sure, I know there are the old and infirm who are incapable of shoveling massive amounts of heavy snow. But for the rest of us, that is, the middle-aged and unfirm, there’s no excuse. And I’m sorry, that includes skipping out on snow removal because your legs are too tired from skiing powder for 12 days in a row. Besides, if you can shovel two ruts wide enough to gun your car over the iceberg berm like Shackleton making a mad escape to get to the mountain for first tracks, then surely, you can eke out a 12-inch swath in front of your house so us poor working slobs don’t break a hip on the way to the office.

Anyway, as if I hadn’t wasted enough time with my annual snow shoveling tirade, then my power went out, making any sort of personal computing impossible, if not extremely unpleasant. OK, so it was a week after the big storm, but you try writing in a cold, dark, creepy office with no space heater, streaming tunes or microwave in which to heat up your hot cocoa. Downright brutal, I tell you. Plus, I’ve seen those slasher movies. Ain’t no way I was going to hang around, fumbling for the fuse box late at night while Freddy Krueger was sharpening his scissors hands.

And then, as if all this hardship wasn’t enough, my prized and cherished skis suddenly went missing, possibly buried in an avalanche or lost somewhere in the backcountry around Silverton. Fortunately, the search party went out as soon as the skis were reported missing, sometime around 11 a.m. a few weeks ago in the Purg parking lot. (Thank you, Kendall Mountain Recreation Center for picking them up and putting them in a safe snowbank where they wouldn’t be mangled by the night groomer.)

So, as you can see, 2008 has gotten off to a less than stellar start –and I haven’t even mentioned the new $1,000 tooth (although I’ve been told it’s quite lovely for a molar.) But rather than wallow in self pity and half-price Christmas candy, I have decided forge a path to self-betterment, icebergs be damned. After all, that which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, which can come in handy come shoveling time:

• Resolution 1: More stretching – OK, so this is a holdover from last year, and the year before that, but sometimes it takes a while for muscles to grow accustomed to such radical new behavior, particularly with knees that creek like rusty old lawnchairs.

• Resolution 2: Drink more water – All right, so this one’s a holdover, too. Does not apply while traveling in Mexico (wishful thinking) or submerged in the river or Rec Center pool, all of which could prove detrimental to health.

• Resolution 3: Mail “Happy Groundhog Day” cards - A little unconventional, but who wants to send a card that’s just going to get lost in the shuffle of everyone else’s kids, dogs and mass-produced holiday newsletters?

• Resolution 4: Tune skis – Now that I’ve been reunited with them, I realize how much they really do mean to me and promise to honor, respect and sharpen and wax them more than once every four years.

• Resolution 5: Take Christmas lights down before 4th of July – There’s nothing worse than being the subject of your own “thumbs down.”

• Resolution 6: Write more meaningful columns – I mean, no one really reads this crap, do they?

• Resolution 7: Eat healthier – This means no more peanut M&Ms for breakfast, even if technically, they do contain three of the four food groups.

• Resolution 8: Read more – Even if it’s in five-minute intervals between spin cycles while locked in the laundry room with a pen light so no one knows I’m in there

• Resolution 9: Cut down on swearing – It’s only funny until your 4-year-old gets expelled from preschool for cursing a blue streak that would make Richard Pryor blush.

• Resolution 10: Organize – When you have 13 pairs of child’s mittens that are all right-handed, something’s terribly wrong. Same goes for all those orphaned socks and topless tupperwares. Now if only I could find that shovel …

– Missy Votel