I didn’t make any resolutions this year, which isn’t really anything new, I typically don’t. However, in the past I have set goals for the new year. Last year, for example, I taped two index cards into the back of my planner: one for personal goals, one for writing goals. There were ten goals total. Want to take a stab at how many of them I met?
I think it’s likely that you were over-generous in your guess. (Thank you.) I met one goal. That’s right, one. And if I’m being honest, I only met that one because it was set to be extremely achievable.
But you know what wasn’t on my personal goals list? Running two half marathons. And what wasn’t on my writing goals list? Doing a reading at an amazing library a few months ago or hearing from a listener that the podcast I’m part of helped her. I had wins in both areas this year, but none of them were the ones I set down and arbitrarily jotted down twelve months ago. There was an interesting article in The Guardian recently that offered this about long-term goals: Continue reading
Good friends. Holiday parties. Twinkly lights. ‘Tis the season for all things merry and bright, Including this lovely blog hop hosted by Julia Kelly and Alyssa Cole. I’m thrilled to offer my addition to the buffet of holiday short stories today. Click here for links to all the other delicious offerings.
The butterflies took flight in my stomach as soon I locked the door to my basement apartment. Who came up with butterflies to describe this feeling, anyway? That makes it sound soft and gentle– dainty butterflies with their thin powdery wings. How about bats? Big leathery-winged bats. Anyway, no matter the metaphor, I felt uneasy.
Piece of cake?! At least in my neighborhood they are. I’ll explain.
On Saturday this appeared:
When it was slightly closer to its original form than it is now, it was clearly a graduation cake that met an untimely, probably uncoordinated demise. Needless to say this is a big score for the city wildlife. I keep imagining that I will come home to find a slew of cake-drunk birds and squirrels hanging out on my patio until they can sober up enough to crawl (or fly wobbly) home. While this has yet to happen, I did witness a squirrel attempt to scurry up a utility pole and jump onto the roof of a building while carrying a piece of cake nearly the size of his body. It was a noble effort, but he lost most of it on the jump:
He (or she, of course) then proceeded to eat the bit that still remained in his paws and plan his strategy for the remaining chunk:
The next time I went outside the giant chunk had disappeared. While I realize that any number of things could have happened to it, I like to think that the little squirrel figured it out: sometimes those big rewards involve a lot of little steps along the way. Little bites, my squirrel friend, little bites.