New Year’s Day 2016…Resolution Reruns

So, did you or didn’t you?  Are you one of those super optimistic people who trot out the same old resolutions year after year, ever hopeful that this will finally be the year when you’re able to hold on to one long enough to say you kept it?  Do you have your list permanently engraved in your memory so you don’t have to write it down?  Or maybe you come up with a new list every year, thinking that sooner or later you’ll hit on something that works?

Well, let’s review a few of those resolutions.  How do they stack up?  After all, there are only so many ideas we humans can come up with for self-improvement.  We tend to think alike when we start kidding ourselves.

What’s Number 1 on almost all of our lists?  GET BACK IN SHAPE!  Exercise more, eat healthily, lose weight and quit smoking if it applies.  Number 2 would probably be our promise to spend more quality time with family and friends.  This would include cutting way back on the boob tube and social media.  Somewhere in there we’d vow to read at least one thought-provoking, inspirational book every month and, in general, clean up our act.  Sound familiar?

Give it up, guys.  We all know we’re doomed to fail. Our promises to ourselves may give us a lift as we sing  “Auld Lang Syne”  on the last night of the old year.  We’re excited, eager to unveil the new us, ready to become better people.  So, what happens?

Unfortunately, January 1st is what happens. That is decidedly the single worst day of the year on which to attempt any changes. Why?  Well, that’s easy.  It’s those darned New Year’s Eve parties on December 31st that we can’t turn down.  Take for instance, the most recent occasion.

We all partied last night, we know we did.  We even remember parts of the evening.  We put on goofy hats, blew gaudy noise-makers, tried to prove we could still Jitterbug, ate tons of greasy, gooey little things and glugged down who knows how much eggnog.  Then came a confusing count down when some kind of a ball dropped somewhere, accompanied by a Champagne toast.  And we called it fun!

So now we’ve arrived at January 1st.  New Year’s Day is dawning bright and full of promise.  And where are we?  Cringing under the comfortless comforter, peering out of glazed eyeballs, head throbbing and tummies very, very iffy.  We’re expected to bound out of bed and do push-ups?  Cook oatmeal?  Welcome a thundering herd of raucous offspring who’ve discovered  the discarded noisemakers?  All in the name of a few rash promises we made in the enthusiasm of the night before?  Fat Chance!

Worse yet, we’re faced with reading the first chapter of  “The Rise And Fall Of The Roman Empire” when we can’t even pick the darned thing up!  This is exactly why January 1st is the absolute worst day of the year for new beginnings.  Quality time with the family is a distant dream, something to be postponed indefinitely, along with any vague intentions of self improvement.  There have to be better times to begin.

So once again all those needed New Year’s resolutions have been sabotaged and we’re feeling more than a little guilty.  Surely there’ll be other opportunities to keep them – like maybe next year?  We already have our lists, just in case.

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Jelly Old Saint Nick

I turned on my TV this morning just in time to hear the following:

“Breaking News Alert:  Ladies and gentlemen and children everywhere:  We have just been informed that the world’s beloved  SANTA  CLAUS, soon due for his annual tour, has been busted by the  Fat Police!  He has been placed on a strict diet.  We quote,  ‘He is considered a poor role model for millions of tots,’ say the Fat Police. ‘Jolly Old St. Nick has turned into Jelly Old St. Nick.  One of the world’s  most adored figures has been placed on a no-fat, no-sugar, no-salt, no-nonsense, no-fun diet for his own good, and the welfare of millions of his young believers.’ Reports are that Mr. Claus is not handling this well.  We’ll keep you informed as the story develops.”

WHAT!  Santa lose weight?  A skinny Santa would be like Father Time without a beard, Jack O’Lantern with a full set of teeth or the Easter Bunny wearing an earring.  Some things just can’t be.  Santa Claus has to be fat.

Imagine St. Nick’s rosy cheeks and cherry nose shriveled and shrunken.  Imagine drooping eyes, deep wrinkles and a red velvet suit so baggy it falls in puddles around his feet.  His hearty  “Ho-Ho-Hos”  would sound like wimpy “Tee-Hees”.

How could he pick up his pack and pack it up if it weighed twice as much as he did?  His feet wouldn’t stay on the ground.  He’d fall over backwards, both boots kicking in the air like a two-legged dung beetle.

How could his sleigh take off from roof-tops with such a light load?  The reindeer would puff and snort in dismay.  Too nervous to fly properly, they’d overshoot every roof.  The elves would be frantic trying to stay on schedule.

Agreed, sliding down a chimney would be a piece of cake  (OOPS, poor choice of words there)  but what would Santa find at the bottom after he’d finished his work?  Hot cocoa and cookies?  I think not.  More likely a lukewarm glass of diet cola, two crackers and a stalk of celery.

PLEASE,  PLEASE,  Fat Police, don’t change Santa Claus.  Children have other role models; their parents, their teachers, the people who dream up video games.  Let them be fit and skinny.  There is only one Santa Claus in the entire world and he can’t change.

We adults need him and his hearty  “Ho-Ho-Hos” just as much as any child does.

Auntie Jo Celebrates “The Twelve Days of Christmas” at The Oaks

On the 1st day of Christmas my true love gave to me

a Tofurky in a fir tree.

On the 2nd day of Christmas my true love gave to me

2 Pepto Bismol and a Tofurky in a fir tree.

On the 3d day of Christmas my true love gave to me

3 fiber bars, 2 Pepto Bismol and a Tofurky in a fir tree.

On the 4th day of Christmas my true love gave to me

4 packs of Depends, 3 fiber bars, 2 Pepto Bismol and a Tofurky in a fir tree.

On the 5th day of Christmas my true love gave to me

5 baby aspirin, 4 packs of Depends, 3 fiber bars, 2 Pepto Bismol and a Tofurky in a fir tree.

On the 6th day of Christmas my true love gave to me

6 Metamucil, 5 baby aspirin, 4 packs of Depends, 3 fiber bars, 2 Pepto Bismol and a Tofurky in a fir tree.

On the 7th day of Christmas my true love gave to me

7 prunes a-stewing, 6 Metamucil, 5 baby aspirin, 4 packs of Depends, 3 fiber bars, 2 Pepto Bismol and a Tofurky in a fir tree.

On the 8th day of Christmas my true love gave to me

8 long johns flapping, 7 prunes a-stewing, 6 Metamucil, 5 baby aspirin, 4 packs of Depends, 3 fiber bars, 2 Pepto Bismol and a Tofurky in a fir tree.

On the 9th day of Christmas my true love gave to me

9 lads a-serving, 8 long johns flapping, 7 prunes a-stewing, 6 Metamucil, 5 baby aspirin, 4 packs of Depends, 3 fiber bars, 2 Pepto Bismol and a Tofurky in a fir tree.

On the 10th day of Christmas my true love gave to me

10 ladies limping, 9 lads a-serving, 8 long johns flapping, 7 prunes a-stewing, 6 Metamucil, 5 baby aspirin, 4 packs of Depends, 3 fiber bars, 2 Pepto Bismol and a Tofurky in a fir tree.

On the 11th day of Christmas my true love gave to me

11 geezers gazing, 10 ladies limping, 9 lads a-serving, 8 long johns flapping, 7 prunes a-stewing, 6 Metamucil, 5 baby aspirin. 4 packs of Depends, 3 fiber bars, 2 Pepto Bismol and a Tofurky in a fir tree.

On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me

12 curmudgeons squawking, 11 geezers gazing, 10 ladies limping, 9 lads a-serving, 8 long johns flapping,, 7 prunes a-stewing, 6 Metamucil, 5 baby aspirin, 4 packs of Depends, 3 fiber bars, 2 Pepto Bismol and a Tofurky in a fir tree.

Auntie Jo’s Guide to Gifts for Grown-ups

No one understands gift-giving better than Auntie Jo.  Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, she’s right there with the perfect gift, wrapped and delivered.   Being of a certain age herself, she especially loves sharing with those of us who are still young enough to want to see our names on a gaily wrapped package.  Is anyone ever too old?

True, there’s nothing we need at this time of our lives and our loved ones claim we’re much too difficult to shop for, but Auntie Jo has the answer to both problems.  Just check out her list below; there’s something for every Granny or Gramps you know.

Auntie Jo’s #1 suggestion for the perfect gift:  CHOCOLATES!  Unfortunately, Granny says “It’s a no-no, cholesterol.”  Gramps says “Diabetes.  Besides I can’t chew the danged things.”

#2  O.K., no chocolates:  A bottle of wine!

Granny says “It messes up my meds.”  Gramps says “Never could stand the danged stuff.”

#3  Well, maybe a fine old single malt scotch.

Granny says  “I’d fall down.”  Gramps says “can’t handle the danged hangovers.”

#4  Let’s try food – trays of fancy assorted cheeses, fresh fruits, dried fruits, imported meats or nuts.

Granny says “Too much fiber, too salty, not enough fiber, not enough salt, can’t chew.”  Gramps says “Gives me gas, too binding, no flavor, can’t chew, too much flavor, I hate garlic.”

#5  So, no food.  How about books?

Granny says “My no, all those naughty words.”  Gramps says “Can’t read the danged print.”

#6  Here’s a good one!  Everyone loves flowers.

Granny says  “HAH-CHOOO.”  Gramps says “ Got any idea how much those danged things cost nowadays?”

#7  A fresh idea – Table Games

Granny says  (“He’s a poor loser.”)  Gramps says  (“She’s a poor loser.”)

#8  Tickets to an “ All U Can Eat” “2 For The Price Of One”  Senior’s Buffet.  At last smiles break out!

Granny says “Lovely!!!”  Gramps says  “You finally got it!”

Unfortunately there are some gifts Auntie Jo can no longer recommend. She’s had to remove her  “Romantic Weekend Special”  from her list permanently.

It consisted of a restful weekend at the beach, iced Champagne, steak and lobster, slinky lingerie for Granny, imported cigars for Gramps.  Let’s see how it went:

Granny and Gramps arrived at the room,  briefly checked out the beach,  dashed back to the room, made a beeline for the bucket with the iced Champagne, couldn’t  pry up the clamp.  Gramps removed his dentures to use as pliers.  Just as the cork flew up, nearly blinding him, a molar broke off his uppers.  Champagne rained down from the ceiling; they barely salvaged enough to feel a little tipsy as they tottered off to the dining room.

They couldn’t chew the steaks and Granny insisted she heard the lobster hit the  water even though the kitchen was 200 feet away.  Gramps picked up his lobster and tried to gnaw at it like a piece of fried chicken, finally realizing he never did put his dentures back in after the Champagne fiasco.  However, they did enjoy several cocktails and only got lost twice on the way back to the room.

Later, Granny managed to squeeze into her slinky gown and negligee,  thanks to lots of Lycra, only to find that Gramps couldn’t see well enough to get her out of it later on.   He had to use the tiny scissors from his Swiss Army Knife while she cringed in dread,  afraid to breathe.  After she finally popped out of the Lycra, neither one  remembered what was supposed to happen next.  Besides, they had personal places that were still itchy from beach sand.

They decide to skip a dip together in the bathtub;  who would get them out?   An argument broke out over the shared shower, she likes hot water, he prefers cold.  They gave up and decided to relax while Gramps lit up one of the slender, elegant cigars.

Clouds of noxious fumes sent them both into coughing fits, their noses ran and their eyes turned red. They made a mad dash to open the windows, even though the rain was blowing in.  Finally they fell across the soggy bed like two felled fir trees, exhausted from all the stress.  They overslept the next morning, well past checkout time, and ended up being charged for an extra night.

Auntie Jo says, “ Worst gift idea  I ever had.  A resounding  NO!”

Granny and Gramps say “Home is the best place for us.”

So what do Granny and Gramps really want?  Auntie Jo finally figured it out:  “It’s very simple:  Just love, a little attention, and an occasional night out at the   “All U Can Eat”  “2 For The Price Of 1” Senior Buffet.