It’s a good thing I’m not resolving to stop procrastinating in 2007 or else I’d be in trouble for not firming up my resolutions within the first few days of the new year. But instead, I’ve decided to concentrate on one major goal — and to break it up into three key pieces.

In 2007, I resolve to live more. I will try to avoid the tentative, safe steps I prefer to take and instead will bound bravely and boldly into the future. When I crash and burn I will not retreat to my rich interior landscape, but will hop back on my pogo stick and head back out.

In order to achieve such a lofty goal, I will:

• Attend a new public gathering every month, be it a local knitting group (I headed to my first Stitch and Bitch last week), a poetry reading, a bike ride, or a mass streak across the Mall. I’ve grown complacent with my social activities (not that I don’t love me some Dean folks). But it’s time to shake things up.
• Exercise once a week. I am prone to depression. I know this. I also know exercise can help to minimize its effects. You cannot live boldly if your mental health is poor. And it’s hard to do it if you’re too lethargic to get up off the couch. Plus, I’ve been meaning to check out the local yoga studios.
• Be a better friend. I resolved last year to be better about staying in touch with friends and failed miserably. So I’ll try it again this year. I miss my old friends desperately. And I’d like them to know that. So I’ll call or write or email once a month, too. And I’ll try to be better about arranging things with local friends, too, since I tend to be a bit hesitant about initiating gatherings or activities.

That’s it. It sure sounds simple when written out like that. Maybe I make it harder than it really is. I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?

Back in the days when people used hot pots instead of microwaves, some boiled almost constantly. In fact, some rooms had two: one for pouring hot water into cups and the second for heating the next pot of water for those too slow or too generous to take from the first.

This particular room lay at the very top and very center of a thee-story Tudor-style dorm. Originally intended to house several first-year students, it had, instead been taken over by a pair of juniors with a tendency to prop their door open until the wee hours of the morning and to welcome in their assortment of friends and dorm mates around the clock.

The beverage of choice was, of course, cocoa, and around ten or eleven or twelve (depending on the night), the girls would start to expect company. Residents from around the building (and, sometimes, from other dorms on campus) would climb the stairs to the eyrie and the hotpots would begin to percolate. Those who frequented the gatherings came with mug in hand. But spare mugs abounded and no one ever had to go without.

Neither the girls, nor their guests stood on formality. Early guests got their choice of seating — the small Japanese sofa in front of the row of windows usually went first as it was the most comfortable spot in the room. But desk chairs and space on beds would be cleared off and eventually the contents of the floor shifted and shaped into comfortable nooks and claimed by those seeking refuge from meetings, studies, or procrastination.

Music — Depeche Mode and Disney soundtracks and the Pet Shop Boys and the Indigo Girls were all quite popular — played from one stereo or the other or from the one across the hall, which belonged to the girl with the most extensive music collection of the group — and sometimes from several at once. A hot pot switched from the loud whoosh of heating to the quiet sound of boiling and it would be unplugged and the next plugged in. People rose to fill their mugs, and melting marshmallows were quickly spooned from steaming cups into eager mouths. A ginger-haired boy with an infectious laugh and dancing eyes had earlier introduced the group to the novelty of adding whipped cream to top their cups, and when there was some to be had, the can was passed around and the revelers were encouraged to partake liberally.

The room filled with the sounds of people chattering. It does not matter what they talked about and it would be impossible to cite here all the topics covered. It will suffice to say that the group was fully capable of discussing both the Very Important and the highly mundane and that they did.

An hour would pass, sometimes two or even three. Early risers departed with a fond good night. Others dozed off on the couch or a bed. The conversations grew quieter. The neighbor with the music collection might pad off to the bathroom to wash the mugs and spoons. One of the two girls might open her book.

Rarely did the merrymaking end all at once. Usually it just faded until the residents of the room were the only ones left, just as the small details seep out from good memories leaving only a tableau and a feeling of contentment.

I just wanted to send get well soon wishes to Sam’s dad. Terry, we hope you’ll be up and about soon. We’re all sending you our most healing vibes.

I hope those of you who celebrate Christmas have a very merry holiday. I send you my best wishes for you and your families.

We’ve had a nice holiday overflowing with presents, food, and loved ones. We’ll be heading home tomorrow evening after Boxing Day dinner so expect more regular updates to resume midweek.

I must be making some progress on the holiday front, but it sure doesn’t feel like it.

I did make some cookies (Di‘s fudge and Mum’s eskimo cookies, both of which went over very well at the office holiday potluck), but not all I need to bake.

I’ve written some cards, but I’m not quite done yet. (This currently stands as my most-likely-to-imminently-finish task.)

I’ve done a bunch of shopping, but not necessarily for the key people who need presents by a certain date (like Monday). Admittedly, my lack of e-shopping, my tendency to do lots of browsing, and my desire to patronize local businesses may have played some role in there not being an awful lot done. Or, at least, like my feeling that I haven’t done a lot.

Knitting is progressing. Christmas gift #1 was finished back in November. Christmas gift #2 experienced some major hiccups until I eventually admitted defeat with the original yarn I bought for the project and bought a different kind instead. As predicted, Christmas gifts #3 and 4 will not be completed prior to Monday. I’m okay with that.

Wrapping. Ha! Ha! Ha! (Imagine dramatic pauses in between each of those.) Maybe tonight. Or tomorrow. And, if not, Mum bought a lot of bags that I can dip into in Connecticut. But I’d prefer to get at least some of it done before we head north.

I did finally decide last night that I should put on a Christmas movie and I spent some time knitting, eating, and card writing during this year’s showing of Holiday Inn. I still have time for White Christmas or It’s a Wonderful Life, but I’ll have to hope my folks have a copy of Miracle on 34th Street, because I don’t think we own it. But doing something that felt holidayish made for a nice change….

Two more days ’til we head north. And then two more days after that to finish up all the loose ends. I’d better get moving. I have a lot to do still!

There’s a meme floating around to see what the first sentence bloggers posted each month. I’m feeling like being a lazy blogger today, so I thought I’d see what mine said about my year. Then I discovered they were, with a couple of exceptions, boring. Apparently I can’t be that lazy, so I also offer you a haiku for each sentence. At least it offers variety….

January: “We rounded out the year 2005 with a quartet of movies over two days.”

Four movies were watched
during the last waning days
of the dying year.

February: “Parents in Williamson County, Tennessee, have been asked to sign an anonymous petition demanding that the classic To Kill a Mockingbird be removed.”

A classic challenged —
more parents unwilling to
let their children grow.

March: “February was a quiet book-buying month, coming on the heels as it did of the heavy book acquisitions of January (and frankly, the month was filled with Winter and Knitting Olympics — who has time to hit the bookstores properly?).”

Knitting booties and
watching sports on tv cuts
down on book buying.

April: “Happy April Fool’s Day!”

On the first day of
April would you expect a
different first line?

May: “The medals plaza has been disassembled.”

Eventually
even the lazy knitter
must finish her work.

June: “Karen took me bra shopping on Friday (this is how good a friend she is; she didn’t force me to stand under fluorescent lights in my underwear by myself).”

This sentence stands out
as being the only one
complete on its own.

July: “Several more books were finished during the second fortnight of June (the first half of the month’s reading is here), including one I acquired at the Orange County Airport.”

Vacations are a
great way to blow through a pile
of books to be read.

August: “Rudi and I are heading north on Amtrak in the morning to join friends Karen and Michael, Erica, and Erik (and maybe old college pal Mike) for An Evening with Harry, Carrie, and Garp.”

Who would miss out on
spending a sultry evening
with cool authors? Who?!

September: “The rain and wind have finally kicked in.”

Blustery weather
is a real treat. Too bad it
all came in month nine.

October: “I don’t normally root against the Mets, but I’d like to see them lose today.”

Please don’t ever ask
me to type those words again.
They pained me to say.

November: “Today marks Day 1 of NaNoWriMo.”

Thirty-five pages
is nothing to sniff at, but
just wait ’til next year.

December: “How long are candy canes good for?”

The general thought
was that candy canes may
outlast us all. Huh!