Tag Archives: Resolutions



Divorce yourself from worry—that tangled skein of stress.
Most of the problems in your thoughts are ills you can’t address.
Tasks collect in clusters that dry out in the sun,
so concentrate your efforts on things you may get done
and shove the others in a drawer or stack them on a shelf
where they can be seen by no one but yourself.

Don’t let their hidden status be cause for delay.
Accomplish at least one task every single day.
Thoughts peripatetic flit from thing to thing.
Nothing is accomplished by resolve on the wing.
Make a list and stick to it. Tick off what you have done,
and then forget your worries and go and have some fun.

Life’s not just for doing or accomplishing or working.
Life can be made richer with a little quirking.
Loosen up your hairdo. Paint your toenails blue.
Turn around and talk to strangers in the movie queue.
Take some time off from your work and plan a small vacation.
No telling what adventures lurk in a new location.

If you’re wishing for excitement, it won’t come to you.
There’s so much more that can be done, and done begins with do.
In between the “musts” of life, inflict some “want to do’s”
and make them happen. Take a chance. What do you have to lose?
The longer that you wait, the more life becomes a ruse.
Have the courage to go out and live the life you choose.

Prompt words for the day are delay, cluster, peripatetic, skein and divorce. The painting is acrylic on canvas board. I just noticed I didn’t sign it.

Listed or Listless

The Prompt:  Have you ever made a New Year’s Resolution that you kept?


Write it down!!!!

Listed or Listless?

Of course I have accomplished my New Year’s Resolutions.  A few times.  Once I did a project with a friend where we each wrote down what we wanted to accomplish.  I believe I had eight things.  Since we illustrated our resolutions, my quotes of what I wanted were scattered throughout my illustrations.  Shortly after we did this, she moved back to the states and in time I forgot my little artwork.

A few years later, I found it when I was cleaning and reorganizing my studio.  I looked at my page, turning it this way and that to read the resolutions that twisted around and through the colored sketches.  I was surprised to find I’d accomplished every one, including losing weight, getting a book published (actually by the time I found it, I’d self-published three books), and finding a partner (now a friend, but nonetheless, I managed to reenter the dating scene after years of still feeling married to my deceased husband.)

I don’t remember what the rest of my resolutions were and a new search of my studio didn’t result in finding it.  Perhaps it requires actually cleaning and reordering the studio to warrant this reward; but, this exercise taught me what I’d learned long before and forgot.  Writing resolutions down has a sort of magic.  I think it moves them to a different, more active part of our brain.  Even though that part of the brain might still be in the subconscious regions, somehow our written-down resolutions sit there as little telepathic cheerleaders, urging us onward to action.

Lest I grow too listless again, I think perhaps it is time to make another list!!!



The Prompt: To Be Resolved—We’re entering the final days of 2014 — how did you do on your New Year’s resolutions these past 11.75 months? Is there any leftover item to be carried over to 2015?



It isn’t my fault that my storybook’s still
thirty-two pages piled in a hill
next to the scanner on my kitchen table.
I’ll get it formatted when I am able.
Right after I glue all this beach stuff together—
each seashell and heart stone and pelican feather—
to make a Yule tree, then to make a Yule altar.
For weeks I’ve worked on them. Never did I falter.


Then I had beach walks to do, daily swims,
tequila to drink as the sun slowly dims.
Everyone gathered to put down the day
and bring on the night time. What more can I say?


A Saturday writing group, dinner with friends.
Of new obligations, the list never ends.
Now it’s two days till Christmas with parties to go to.
And a party to give that no one has said no to.

And so I’m not sure how many will come
I said “bring your friends” which I fear was most dumb.
It seems that I really don’t know how to do
a party where I only ask just a few.
I don’t  know how much food or know just how many
napkins to buy. Plates and cups? How uncanny
that I haven’t planned this thing better this year.
I’m not only slipping—I’ve lost it, I fear.

My thought streams are verging on, “Hey, what the fuck!”
I don’t know how many are bringing potluck
so there may be no food and not enough booze.
This party I’m giving may be a real snooze.
And right after this one are three potlucks more.
I think that it calls for a trip to the store.
I must clear out my house once I am able.
Clear all of my art projects off of the table.

 Hide my computer, relocate my scanner,
put up more Christmas lights under the banner.
There is so much for this writer to do
that I fear it will take one more week, maybe two
to format my book both for Kindle and print,
for somehow, my time has just got up and went.
This retreat to make time for my book has been taken
once more by busy work, book tasks forsaken.

But right after New Years, I swear they’ll be done.
No more excursions and no more beach fun.
I’ll sit at the table, right there in my chair.
I’ll chew on my pencil and worry my hair
and get this book formatted. Then get it sent
off to the printer so I can say “went.”
Instead of “will go” when all my friends ask
the state of the manuscript, stage of my task.

“I’m finished!” I’ll say. “Glory be, I am done!”
And I’ll feel less guilty for swimming and fun.
Then I’ll start in on the next book or two.
It won’t be hard, for there’s nothing to do
to distract me or keep me from doing my task.
Nothing to go to. No one to ask.
Except for my writers’ group, Friday night dance,
and a trip up the coast, if we have a chance.

The art show where I said I’d show a few pieces—
a ” few” obligations? The list never ceases.
I guess the truth is that our lives are made up
of what we must do and what we give up.
The irony, though, of the whole situation
is that it’s a matter of choice and duration.
The more tasks we find that we just have to do,
the more that we put off the remaining few.

I guess it’s a case of just fitting in
who we will be with who we have been.
That I keep on writing’s important because
I’d rather write “is” instead of put “was”
in front of “a writer” for the rest of my life;
but also in front of a friend, sister, wife.
For if we don’t put off living, doing and seeing,
the best stories we write will be tales of our being.

This is the tree in daylight. Palm fruiting stem covered in heart-shaped rocks and shells found on the beach, pelican feathers and flowers I made out of painted egg cartons.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and may all your resolutions be met.