You don’t believe me? Let me ask you something. In the past, how many New Year’s Resolutions have you managed to keep?

Really? You can count them on the fingers of one hand? And you don’t need all the fingers?

Yeah, me too.

New Year’s Resolutions are a jinx. The moment the words, “I resolve” bound over your tongue and do a reverse cannonball off your lips, you’re doomed. Speaking those words aloud makes you crave to do the very opposite of whatever it was that you resolved to do or not to do.

I once resolved to get more exercise in the new year. I bought exercise DVDs for working out at home. I was so gung ho at first that I even went to work out at a gym for women a couple of times a week for, oh, a couple of weeks, I guess. My resolve didn’t last for long. Months later, I realized the gym I joined closed and moved to a new location without notifying me, and my exercise DVDs became so dust-covered, I couldn’t find them. I haven’t been able to locate them in years.

Another year, I resolved to eat healthier–no junk food, no processed food, no fried food, no gooey deserts, no candy–not even chocolate (gasp!), and nothing that tastes remotely good. You know the drill. It meant cooking from scratch with daily purchased fresh ingredients from the market. I almost made it to the end of the week.

Then there were the resolve to diet years. Remember the grapefruit diet? The water diet? The Adkins Diet? Don’t forget the South Beach Diet, and heaven knows how many others I’ve resolved to try every year. My resolve never lasts. If anything I gain weight the harder I try to lose it. I have had some success on and off with Weight Watchers, depending on the status of my will power. Unfortunately, I am powerless against sweets. Chocolate and cookies are my kryptonite.

This year, I haven’t made any New Year’s Resolutions that I won’t be able to keep. However, if I were to make a resolution I believe I could keep, it would be to eat as many dark chocolate truffles as I can get my hands on. I know I have a darn good shot at keeping that one.

May we all resolve to have a happy–and sweet–2017!

It cannot possibly be 2015 already. Where did the time go? I cannot believe how fast the years go by of late. Years lasted a lot longer when I was a kid. Of course, I was still in school so it is understandable that a year dragged on into infinity back then—until summer vacation, which went by in a flash.

It seems like only yesterday that I was making New Year’s Resolutions for 2014, which I didn’t keep for very long. I didn’t make one single New Year’s Resolution for 2015. To tell you the truth, I’m against the concept of New Year’s Resolutions.

Make a New Year’s Resolution and you set yourself up for failure. Seriously. The pressure to succeed in keeping a resolution grows to enormous proportions. Eventually, the resolution takes on a life of its own, nagging you at every turn, making you feel like pond scum the moment you slip up.

I’ve lost count of how many years in a row that I resolved to lose weight, to exercise regularly, to eat a healthy diet, to drink more water, to get more sleep, to finish the [current] damn book. Can you guess which of those resolutions I kept?

Let’s see. I didn’t eat a healthy diet [Come on, give up pizza, pasta, and chocolate? Me?], therefore I didn’t lose weight. I suppose I drank more water, if numerous cups of tea late at night count. That was also when I was supposed to get more sleep, but any writer knows that if you’re on a roll, you don’t shut down your computer and go night-night—especially if you get your best ideas late at night and the rewriting bug bites you. I did get some exercise, sort of. My fingers did the walking over my MacBook’s keys for several hours a day, and I climbed stairs several times a day since my home office is in my home’s lower level. My jaw got plenty of exercise when I masticated snacks while I wrote.

If I were to cave in to tradition and make resolutions for this new year of 2015, I believe I would resolve to try to be a better person: a better wife, a better mother, a better grandmother, a better sister, a better friend, a better neighbor, a better citizen—and I hope like mad that I’d succeed in my resolve to become a better writer and finish every damn book I start!

Happy 2015, everyone!

PS: You may have noticed that I did not resolve to try to be a better cook. ::cackle, snort:: Hey, give me some credit for knowing when a situation is hopeless. If I ever invite you to dinner at my place…well, don’t bring your appetite.

If you made New Year’s Resolutions, please share them. Don’t worry; I won’t nag you to keep them.

You’ve all heard them–the people who cannot speak without prefacing whatever they say with one or more of the following: Look, I mean, Like, and You know.

We all know at least a few of these people. Their speech is also peppered habitually with uhs, urs and ums. Some of the worst offenders are athletes, teens, politicians, and the talking heads on television.

Yes, I know the First Amendment to the Constitution grants us freedom of speech, but damn! The Founders never had to deal with these grating words, phrases and sound effects that are vocal place holders for those who abhor a pregnant pause or any pause at all, and who refuse to take a deep breath in order to collect their thoughts.

Unfortunately, this speech pattern plague is contagious and it is spreading. You can catch this plague by continually hearing people speak who are infected. Even the articulate are coming down with it. Not long ago, the erudite syndicated columnist Charles Krauthammer began delivering his televised comments by prefacing them with the word look. The first time I heard him do it, I cringed and I feared for the end of civilized discourse.

Actually, I should be the last to cast the first stone. I am a recovered You Knower, a graduate of Marianne H’s “One Step Taking-You-Know-Literally Habit-Breaking Program.”

Marianne H was a college classmate of mine who took it upon herself to break me of the aggravating habit of capping each phrase I uttered with the two pointless and annoying words you know. Here is an example of the successful Marianne H technique, which she employed over and over until she achieved the desired result—never again hearing me say you know needlessly.

ME: You know, this assignment is the dumbest ever, you know?

MARIANNE H: No, I don’t know.

ME: [looking perplexed] You don’t know what?

MARIANNE H: You tell me. You’re the one who said you know, and I don’t know what it is that you think I’m supposed to know.

ME: Huh?

And so the epic struggle began. Every time I said you know, Marianne H said no, I don’t know. She literally took me literally whenever I said you know. Seriously. Constantly. Endlessly. She drove me crazier by saying no, I don’t know than I drove her crazy by saying you know.

Fortunately, the struggle did not end in a stalemate. Marianne H won outright. It didn’t matter to whom I was speaking. If I caught myself about to say you know, I heard Marianne H’s voice inside my head saying no, I don’t know, and I bit my tongue. After a while, I no longer had to monitor my speech to avoid saying it. Marianne H cured me, and I shall be forever grateful to her.

I believe Marianne H’s “One Step Taking-You-Know-Literally Habit-Breaking Program” may also be employed successfully to target those afflicted with habitual utterances of Look, I mean, and Like. Here are a few suggestions for what to say and do whenever the afflicted voice those aggravating words:

THE AFFLICTED: Look…

YOU: [turning your head] Where?

THE AFFLICTED: I mean…

YOU: [looking perplexed] What? You haven’t said what you mean yet.

THE AFFLICTED: Like…

YOU: [shrugging] Like what?

With dedication and perseverance, together we can eliminate a widespread and irritating speech-pattern plague from what would otherwise be intelligent conversation.

Look, I mean, like, shall we give it a go? You know?