New Year’s recuperations

Yes, it’s that time you’ve been waiting for all year, when I reveal my list of New Year’s resolutions that I likely won’t be able to keep beyond Valentine’s Day, which, once again, I will probably spend demonstrating my love for my wife with Mexican food – mainly having her watch me eat it.

This year, though, I’m using my resolutions to focus on my mental health­­­­ – since I’ve been told that I can’t stay in bed until next January. Primarily, I’m resolving to stop allowing certain worries, concerns, questions and math problems to weigh on my mind and my digestive system.

First, I’m resolved to resist the acute feeling of dread every time my (or my wife’s) cell phone vibrates and we see that one of our three semi-grown daughters is calling. Now, don’t get me wrong. We love hearing from our girls, and we want to know that they are safe, healthy and fulfilled, but when they actually call us, it typically means that something is wrong, and that something often involves several hundred dollars – or a boy who has suddenly turned into a huge doofus.

Next is my resolution to stop allowing the check-engine light on my elderly SUV to burn a hole in my subconscious. I’m occasionally able to bribe it to turn off for a few weeks if I take it to the shop to have an exorbitantly expensive part I’ve never heard of replaced with a new one. But as soon as I ease in to the carefree routine of driving a vehicle that isn’t about to explode, that piercing, yellow-orange glow returns to torment me like something out of an Edgar Allan Poe short story. Sometimes I think I see it when it isn’t even there … or maybe it is!

Another anxiety I intend to alleviate involves my youngest daughter’s little white doglet, Biscuit, who has developed a habit of ingesting items not meant to be processed by the canine gizzard. Biscuit seems partial to human hair, carpet fibers and miniscule particles of my daughter’s pillowcase that she nibbles while my daughter is asleep or engrossed in YouTube videos on her cell phone. My main concern, of course, is the dog’s health, which, at any moment, could require medical treatment that will result in a new set of tires on our vet’s pickup. Another worry, though, is wondering where the dog will throw up next. Will it be the carpet, the couch, my desk chair or somewhere I don’t see … . but feel … between my toes? Nowadays, anytime Biscuit coughs, hacks or breathes funny, we frantically scoop her up like a live hand grenade and rush her outside – where she usually just stands there and looks at us like we need medication, which we probably do.

Finally, I have promised myself to stop worrying about the lumps, bumps, aches, pains and errant sprouts of body hair (usually in embarrassing locations) that come with getting older. I used to panic every time one of our children asked me why my legs sound like microwave popcorn cooking when I walk, or why my nostrils have bangs, but I’ve now determined just to do my best to stay healthy, reasonably presentable in public – according to most city ordinances–and let God take care of the rest. (He’s got His work cut out for Him there.)

So there you have it, my list of New Year’s resolutions. I feel better already just getting that off my chest. Wait, was that my phone buzzing or the dog breathing funny again … ?