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 Texas : Features : Columns : "The Girl Detective's Theory of Everything"
New Yearís Resolutions:
A Brief History of Mine

by Elizabeth Bussey Sowdal
Elizabeth Bussey Sowdal
Americans are driven to do more, do it better, do it faster, make more money at it and go on to do the next thing better, faster, and more profitably. I donít know if every culture is like this. Maybe, even in our current high-tech, high-speed wonderland world there are still societies in which people wake up relaxed and enjoy the day, enjoy themselves, enjoy each other. Stop and smell the roses, rather than just Google the roses and download them to a temporary file to review later. But Americans are goal oriented, success minded. We are a society of busy people with places to be and people to see, mountains to climb. We donít just smell the roses, we develop better and better varieties of roses, patent them, mass produce them, and sell them at a profit to the rose sniffers of the world. And each year at this time we Americans give some thought to our goals for the coming year. We plan our accomplishments, give ourselves a time frame and resolve to do better and better and better and to do it faster and more efficiently. I am not immune to this. I make resolutions every year. And when I make them, I really, really mean them.

Jan.1, 1963: Grrrgl. Blup. Ookie!

Jan.1, 1964: Nother cookie now please!

Jan.1, 1969: Find a way to talk sister out of her cookies. Tell her they might be poison and I should test them for her. For her sake.

Jan.1, 1974: Make Reuben Gamboa love me forever. Become best friends with Karen Carpenter and sing with her. Join the FBI and capture all ten of the Most Wanted. Invent glow-in-the-dark food coloring. Lose sister AND brother. Become cherished only child. Invent magical cookies which will be soooo famous and everybody will love them and will say, "Oh wow! We thought you were just a big dork, but you invented these fantastic cookies and now we wish you were our friend and you are not the least bit dorky!"

Jan.1, 1979
: Learn to feather my hair exactly like Tammy Dell. Win a Nobel Peace Prize by the time I am 25. Meet Ray Bradbury. Make John Rineheld beg me for a date. Go to New York and become very, very famous in only six months. Have the figure of a girl who never even heard of cookies.

Jan.1, 1984: Higher hair, bigger shoulder pads. Never drink champagne and brandy in the same evening again. Or even in the same lifetime. Ever. Be able to afford cookies.

Jan.1, 1989: Have an adult conversation. Toilet train all pertinent parties. Have an adult conversation. Did I just say that? Scrape the gummed up cookies off the sofa. Toilet train . . .

Jan.1, 1994: Get a day shift job. Get more than three consecutive hours of sleep. Know exactly where my car keys are at all times. Be home room mother x 3. Never forget to buy cookies. For the kids.

Jan.1, 1999: Develop a hobby. Never be late for anything. Keep track of the kids at all times. No cookies this year, period!

Jan.1, 2004: Consider going back to school. Do not nag anybody about anything anymore, let them sink or swim on their own. Avoid all thoughts of cookies. Exercise so that butt will not look like a big wad of snicker doodle dough.

Jan.1, 2014: Day dream about retiring and traveling Ė maybe to New York? Day dream about cookies, but only buy them for Mike. Try not to help Mike finish cookies before they get stale. Recognize that this is a lame excuse.

Jan.1, 2034: Always have home-baked cookies available for grandchildren. Accept Pulitzer Prize in size 6 gown. Find bigger apartment in New York. Look like I am forty-five.

Jan.1, 2044: Eat all the cookies I ever wanted. Eat nothing but cookies, if thatís what I want to do. Encourage great grandchildren to eat all the cookies they want. Life is short.

Jan.1, 2054: Grrrgl. Blup. Ookie!

A girlís got to have goals, doncha think? Pass me those cookies.
© Elizabeth Bussey Sowdal
"The Girl Detective's Theory of Everything" - January 1, 2005 Column
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