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Actually, it is. I wanted a set of goals for the year.

From experience, I know I can’t succeed unless A) the list is short AND B) I have an accountability partner.

That’s you.

If you see me breaking one of these self-imposed rules, I want you to knock the muffin, French fry, or some other fat laden, delicious, unhealthy pastry right out of my hand.

I’ll do the same for you. Kidding. Hint: the muffins, French fries and fat laden foods … all metaphors.

1. Eat healthy-ish. This isn’t just about eating a salad sans dressing. This kind of healthy involves using dinner time to eat at home with my family.

That means getting home at a decent hour, cooking dinner with Jay and sitting down to eat.

Like at the kitchen table. Both of us, four when Jacob and Jackson are home.

Not in front of the television, in the bonus room or while scrolling through TikTok. 15-20 minutes of disconnection from everything social and reconnection.

Real conversation with my people might be more heart-healthy than cutting out red meat, and all that good conversation will definitely make me feel lighter.

2. Exercise. In addition to my normal calorie-burn routine, I’ll also exercise my right to pick and choose what and whom I allow in my headspace.

I’m looking at you, Andy Cohen.

Not only will I do my best to avoid reading negative news stories, watching bad TV, voyeuristically viewing social media arguments or engaging with toxic people, I will also do my best to not bring negative energy to anyone else.

This includes gossip.

For God’s sake, I’m a grown woman of 50. I’ve never liked a mean girl, and I’ve recognized that by participating in any form of talking smack (this includes listening to said smack), that makes me no better than a mean girl. Everyone is doing their best.

3. Rest. Sleep, yes. But more than sleep, I need rest from stuff.

The buying of things I don’t need or use.

I have enough black slacks, jeans, placemats, and skincare. What I do not have enough of is space.

No more using material possessions to fill a void I’m too afraid to examine.

No more cleaning out closets only to fill them with more stuff.

This includes purchasing self-help books on how to maintain a more Zen life.

I have shelves upon shelves of books detailing how to be the perfect mom, friend, wife, runner, entertainer, writer.

And yet here I sit imperfect in every way and exhausted from trying.

No more handbags and shoes.

That’s a lie.

Baby steps.

Shoes and handbags don’t take up that much space anyway. To accomplish any of this, I realize the decluttering begins with my headspace. Without all this stuff, my sleep is bound to be more restful.

There you have it. Three goals. And 365 chances to make them happen.

Happy 2025!