resolutions

Okay, Christmas is over. What next? Of course, the dreaded new year's resolutions. I could be boring and echo what 99.9% of the population resolves every year - lose weight, exercise more, be nicer but I'm going to go with my old standby. This is the year that I'm going to finish my book. No, not the book I'm reading (although I have been meaning to finally finish Atlas Shrugged. I should get right on that. Right, Todd?) No, I mean the book I've been writing for the last five years. I know I'm not alone with having four or five chapters of a book hanging out in a drawer somewhere but, hell, this is the year that I'm finally going to finish that sucker. Then, I'll spend the next three or four years editing it. When it's finally polished within an inch of its life, I'll start shopping it around to publishers. That ought to take another four or five years. And then, when I've given up hope that anyone appreciates my talent, some visionary publisher will take a chance and publish the damn thing. I can see it now. Me, in all my AARP glory charming the latest Good Morning America host with my wit and insights. Signing autographs while hearing stories about how my book has touched lives. Sitting on the set as it's made into a blockbuster with George Clooney and Meryl Streep. Walking the red carpet after the movie's nominated for nine Academy Awards. (Okay, I might have to be using a wheelchair by that time, but that won't be a problem. George will push me.) As you can see, a vivid imagination is the least of my worries. Sitting my butt in front of the computer - that seems to be the issue. But, hey, this year's going to be different. Twenty-ten. It even sounds different. So, if you'll excuse me, I have to run. George and Meryl aren't getting any younger.