high on the new, low on the resolution

as i flew home yesterday, miranda and tina joined me for the ride.
four the record, miranda lambert's new album is quite long. i have the habit, as most of us with ipods do, to flip through songs before they finish. not with this one. i listened all the way.
the same with tina fey's new book bossypants. just as i crack the cover open, the new year ushers in the "must read" books for 2012 and i stray.
well, whatever happened to the classic reads? the funny reads? actually finishing a read before starting another one?

if you havent already had enough of us plugging the insanely talented and beautiful buki, bare with me once more.
her brother gave her advice for the new years to enjoy the simple. to not scramble to add lists and lists of new resolutions that by march have you churning with regret.
but instead seek to simpify that which is already in your life.

so for 2012 and in no specifc order i would like to:

steep loose tea in a glass teapot.

sigh when i finish a hilarious book.
count my blessings and not my woes.
always, always, always find the humor.

figure out cat eye makeup.
brave the kitchen with foodie experiments.
indulge in travel to see friends.

compliment more people, hold more babies, pet more dogs.
listen to the music i already have.
treat my body, complete with flaws, as beautiful.

and if but one of these happens in 2012, the year of difference, thats fine too.
i leave you with an excerpt from tina fey, prayer for my daughter:

first, lord: no tattoos. may neither chinese symbol for truth 

nor winnie-the-pooh holding the fsu logo stain her tender haunches. 

may she be beautiful but not damaged, for its the damage 

that draws the creepy soccer coach's eye, not the beauty. 

may she play the drums to the fiery rhythm of her own heart 

with the sinewy strength of her own arms, so she need not lie with drummers.

and should she choose to be a mother one day, be my eyes, lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 a.m., all-at-once exhausted, bored, 

and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“my mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “my mother did this for me.” and the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a mental note to call me. and she will forget. but i’ll know, because i peeped it with your God eyes.

amen.