Every year I make resolutions to lose weight, get in shape, and write that Great American Novel, lots of well meaning but vague blah blah blah that I never quite manage. Life - and if I am honest, Say Yes To The Dress, cherry pie, and my own monumental lack of willpower - gets in the way.
So I have decided two things. First, I don't need resolutions. I need a guiding light, a one size fits all, all-occasion, Swiss Army knife of encouragement to Climb Every Mountain Instead of Eating Every Dorito and Catching Something on TLC. I need a mantra to focus my powers of concentration. I need a motto. A short one. Something with a bit of drama...and I found it in a book review in the Washington Post.
For 2014, I will adopt as my motto the words of one mostly forgotten nineteenth century author, Mary MacLane, who exhorted: "To the winds with regrets!"
With motto in mind, what is the first metaphorical mountain of 2014 to climb?
I will tame The Beast.
 |
| The Beast |
Despite its size, The Beast is a modest, hard working truck - no diamond plate tailgate, no blingy trim, no steer horns on the hood. My ever sensible husband bought it to tow a boat trailer for the high school crew team he coaches. So The Beast a practical animal - a big, herking oversized animal that's tricky for me to wrangle down our clogged suburban streets.
I've decided I'm going to make The Beast my own.
Piece of cake, you say. It's got power steering. Power brakes. Get yourself five or six pillows to see over the dashboard. But consider that my 6'4" husband did not feel the need to buy a step in. For me to even get my much shorter self into the cab involves either a vaulting movement akin to Olga Korbut's in the 1972 Olympics or a sideways rock climbing move I believe is called the belly traverse.
I'm not going to let this truck beat me.
The open road is calling! I'm powering up The Beast, putting some Florida Georgia Line on the radio, and flooring it.
To the winds with regrets!
Do you have a motto or resolution for 2014?
