Welcome to Oz

I fell down a hole and just now emerged. Is it possible I haven't written an entry in over three months? And they were three packed months, too, with Thanksgiving, my birthday, Christmas, Sam's birthday, Ben's birthday (which is also New Year's Day) and everything else in between. (Throw my mom's 60th birthday somewhere in there, too.)

I cannot believe it's February already, and I still have yet to send out my thank-you notes from Christmas. And birthday. And every single other event that happened between the last time I posted and now. I fool myself into thinking I have my act together, and really, I don't. I fly by the seat of my pants. (And these days, they're not even cargo pants. They're sweat pants.) I had a birthday and woke up feeling very mid-thirties. I woke up in Oz.

So what to do now? I like to make New Year's resolutions, though by now I've broken nearly all of mine—no junk Mondays to Fridays (yeah, right); exercise 4-5 times each week; no yelling; de-clutter; save money—so let's call it do-over time for Chinese New Year's sake (it's my year—Year of the Dog).

So happy new year. Cut down on the junk (for the sake of my trunk). Walk a little; run a little, do ten reps on a machine sometime soon. Speak softly. Throw out the West Elm catalogs. And think twice before whipping out that cash card.

Here's to a good year in Oz. Bow wow.