Chelsey Cosh's Blog: From Mind to Mouth - Posts Tagged "resolutions"

With a new year comes resolutions.

I have a few. Last year (in November 2015, not January 2016, as it turned out) I vowed not to eat sugar. I got my fair share of laughs because I loved me some chocolate and ice cream. But as time went on, it got significantly easier. Fruit and those deliciously sugar-free potato chips are good desserts and have fared me well.

So, in 2017, I've decided to push myself with a new set of resolutions.

First, as a huge fan of languages, I have been learning a handful over the past year or two. I have been a long-time French-speaker, over a decade or two at least. (It started with Madeline .) But I have also been learning Spanish, German, Italian, and, in a much smaller capacity, Arabic, Russian, and Mandarin. I am a big advocate of using Duolingo to sharpen and maintain your reading, writing, and listening skills, specifically for French, Spanish, German, Italian, and Russian. That's why my resolution stems from using that fantastic -- and did I mention free? -- online learning tool to become more multi-lingual this year. Although imperfect sometimes, Duolingo tries to give you measures of your fluency as best as it can muster. Since I let it all go to pot when I got busy with last year's PopSugar Reading Challenge, all of my fluency scores have dropped dramatically. They are currently sitting at 46% for French, 38% for Spanish, 28% for German, and 14% for Italian. (There are currently no percentage-based fluency metrics for Russian. However, I can tell you there are 78 levels of vocabulary and grammar; I have completed eight.) Pretty embarrassing, I know. So, my resolution is for 65% fluency across the board. And, in the case of Russian, 50 fully completed levels should suffice as an equivalent. For some languages, that benchmark'll be easy-peasy. (I'm looking at you, French.) For others, it's going to be a steep climb. (Russian, you are my Everest.) Regardless, I've got to hold myself accountable, so each month, I will keep y'all updated, mi amigos.

Now for my second resolution! As you may know from back in August, I have been learning how to play the guitar using Rocksmith. It has been hugely fun and, now that I have a second Real Tone cable, my husband and I have been able to play together, which is very nice since he plays rhythm and I play lead. Very harmonious!

You see, Ubisoft, the developer of Rocksmith, has their 60-day challenge where you play an hour a day for two whole months to become a proficient guitar player, learning techniques and chords, just by playing songs and arcade games. There are no dull-as-dirt theory lessons or anything like that. It's a great learning tool and I really believe in it, but I don't know if I can commit an hour a day every single day. Most days, sure, but some days I have absolutely no time to spare, so I figured issuing myself a 365-day challenge gives me some much-needed leniency. Currently, my top five songs in terms of mastery are "Blitzkrieg Bop" by the Ramones, "Funeral March" by Chopin, "My Girl" by The Temptations, "The Final Countdown" by Europe, and "Stuck On a Wire Out on a Fence" by The Dear Hunter, in that order, with "Blitzkrieg" at a 73% mastery, thank you very much. However, I am far more interested in improving the songs I actually enjoy playing, namely "My Girl" by The Temptations, "American Girl" and "Refugee" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, "Addicted to Love" by Robert Palmer, "Don't Speak" by No Doubt, and "Go Your Own Way" by Fleetwood Mac. My goal is to raise those statistics by at least 25% each, which, in the matters of full disclosure, would bring "My Girl" up from 53% to 78%, "American Girl" from 30.8% to 55.8%, "Refugee" from 17.8% to 42.8%, "Addicted to Love" from 23.3% to 48.3%, "Don't Speak" from 30.6% to 55.6%, and "Go Your Own Way" from 19.8% to 44.8%. I realize I am only hoping to attain 78% mastery, but playing these songs is hard, you guys! Baby steps, baby steps.

Third, and perhaps the most ridiculous and least likely to succeed of these resolutions, I resolve to clear my own backlog of unwatched films and TV boxsets by actually watching the ... well, who knows however many titles I have purchased as dust collectors. I know how unrealistic this resolution is. It's probably not going to happen, but I'll give it a shot. After all, how many people can make a resolution to sit on their ass and watch TV like it's some kind of major achievement? The world's tiniest violin plays for me.

Lastly, and most importantly for all you readers out there, I have decided not to do the PopSugar Reading Challenge for 2017, but rather to create my own reading challenge, pushing myself to read a variety of books under a variety of prompts in a similar fashion. I will write down my current choices now for what I think I may read to fulfill each prompt, but I am easily swayed. If I am bombarded with suggestions for a particular book, I will read that instead -- unless, of course, I have already it. I may even issue a poll from time to time. And please, if the mood strikes, join the challenge!

So, announcing for the first time ever (and in no particular order), the 2017 Super-Mega-Ultra-Neo-Maxi-Zoom-Dweebie Chelsey Cosh Reading Challenge™!

#1. A memoir published last year: Talking as Fast as I Can: From Gilmore Girls to Gilmore Girls, and Everything in Between , by Lauren Graham, or Scrappy Little Nobody , by Anna Kendrick, or A Life in Parts , by Bryan Cranston (This is a toughie. So many to choose from!)

#2. A memoir published this year: I will have to wait and see what's released later on this year.

#3. A book about or set in Scandinavia: The Almost Nearly Perfect People , by Michael Booth, or Britt-Marie Was Here , by Fredrik Backman

#4. A book about or set in Australia: The Light Between Oceans , by M. L. Stedman

#5. A Black Quill Award winner: Dark Places , by Gillian Flynn

#6. A book about a mother-son relationship: The End of Your Life Book Club , by Will Schwalbe, or The Rainbow Comes and Goes , by Anderson Cooper & Gloria Vanderbilt

#7. A Goodreads choice award winner: Room , by Emma Donoghue (it won for fiction in 2010), or The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks , by Rebecca Skloot (it won the same year for non-fiction)

#8. A sequel to a book you loved: After You , by Jojo Moyes

#9. A screenplay: When Harry Met Sally , by Nora Ephron, or Good Will Hunting , by Matt Damon & Ben Affleck, or Almost Famous , by Cameron Crowe

#10. A classic work of gay literature: Brokeback Mountain , by Annie Proulx

#11. A winner of an Edgar Award: The Grown-Up , by Gillian Flynn

#12. A book most people read in high school but you did not: The House on Mango Street , by Sandra Cisneros

#13. A work of Gothic horror: We Have Always Lived in the Castle

#14. A play written by Shakespeare: I really want to read Hamlet . I can't believe I haven't read it yet.

#15. A play not written by Shakespeare: I have such a selection. My short list includes The Glass Menagerie , Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? , Barefoot in the Park , A Doll's House , Waiting for Godot , The Cherry Orchard , Long Day's Journey Into Night , The Crucible , and Tartuffe . Spoiled for choice, I am.

#16. A book of essays: Me Talk Pretty One Day , by David Sedaris

#17. A book based on a blog: Hyperbole and a Half , by Allie Brosh

#18. A book written about the future, but that future is now our past: 1984 , by George Orwell, or 2001: A Space Odyssey , by Arthur C. Clarke

#19. A graphic novel: I've heard good things about Fun Home , Maus , The Walking Dead , Blankets , and V for Vendetta . Again, like picking a non-Shakespearean play, my largest struggle will be to pick which one I want to read most.

#20. A classic romance novel: Pride and Prejudice , by Jane Austen

#21. A book with a transgender protagonist: Middlesex , by Jeffrey Eugenides

#22. A book written by a woman of colour: Beloved , by Toni Morrison, or Their Eyes Were Watching God , by Zora Neale Hurston

#23. A book about a murder: In Cold Blood , by Truman Capote

#24. A banned book: The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn , by Mark Twain, or maybe, if I don't read it for prompt #22, Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston

#25. A book about science: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot (if I don't read it for prompt #7), Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are? , by Frans de Waal, or Moonwalking with Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything , by Joshua Foer


Now, let's get to checking some boxes, shall we? Here's to putting your best foot forward. Bring it on, 2017!

All right. Time to hold myself accountable.

My first New Year's resolution was something about learning five languages. You know, something simple.

Let's start with French, the language with which I already have a very strong foundation. I am currently at 48%, which means, throughout January and the beginning week or so of February, I eked forward a measly two percent in fluency. I'm not going to give myself a hard time over this because gaining one percent is a far more difficult task to accomplish at this stage of the game. It's like with exercise: a person can get fit very quickly when they are going from being completely inactive, but it is a far more difficult task to keep gaining muscle tone and strength and whatever else once you're already at the gym on the regular. That's when even the slightest change is a triumph against inconceivable odds.

Then let's say hola to Spanish. Throughout all of January, there were no discernable improvements there, holding steady at 38%, until -- ay caramba -- I jumped in February up to 41%.

German is up three whole percent, making me 31% fluent. I loved German from the start, which amazed me. I didn't think I would fall in love with it the way I did. So, going back to it, I fell right back into the groove, proving it wasn't merely a lusty infatuation but something true. But like all great love stories, there are some lows to accompany the highs, and for me that came in the form of wily grammar. I continued as always to struggle with the daunting task of so many verb cases and with a whopping three genders to classify nouns -- der for the masculine, die for the feminine, and das for the neutral -- which, did I mention, further broke down as I learned the other cases. Inevitably I put the words in the wrong order. I think it's time I learn all the good German cuss words for those moments.

Then, there's Italian, also experiencing a healthy jump. (See what I mean about the great gains made with the lower level of fluency?) At 17% fluency, I doubt I could do as the Romans do without being detected as an impostore, but at least I'm having a good time, especially considering I'm brushing up on my food vocabulary. It just makes me drool thinking about it. Yes, I have been strengthening up those bits and bobs that had started to grow dusty in the recesses of my mind, words I am glad to say that I still recall despite the lack of recent practice. Like the true pig I am, I always remember il mio formaggio.

And last but not least, mother Russia. Well, not my mother. But somebody's. I know that most people struggle with the Cyrillic, but that's a non-issue. I took to that like me taking to cheese -- that is, quickly devouring it and licking my lips, ever so pleased with myself. No, with me, the struggle is with pronunciation. No matter how many seasons of Dancing with the Stars I have enjoyed with the company of Karina and Val, I cannot quite figure out where the accent lies. I can't help it. But, still, baby steps. So I lie at a despicably low 3 out of 78 vocabulary and grammar levels solidly learned (remember, no fluency percentages here, unfortunately). Even if that is a pretty shitty showing, I can say with utmost confidence that those three levels are a pristine gold. Only 47 more levels to go. Oh, God.

Now for my second New Year's resolution because my overachieving ass can't be satisfied: guitar.

Well, to put it as quick and brutal as possible, I suck.

But to go into detail, I suck at almost all the songs I am attempting to improve upon. You can't fault me for dishonesty.

I've improved only on a single song: the awesome Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers' tune "American Girl" is up to 45.2% mastery, which is a 15% jump in the right direction. With only ten more percent onward-and-upward, I would reach my goal. Go, me!

But before I get all cocky about it, I must acknowledge that everything else has shown no signs of improvement, or, in some cases, I've actually gotten worse. Perhaps this resolution was poorly thought out, with unrealistic goals abound.

My third resolution, to watch all the movies and TV on DVD collections that I had stashed away like some kind of hoarder, should be bloody easy, but suffice it to say I botched that one, too. It doesn't take long to get side-tracked, does it?

I got hypnotized by Netflix this month. I've been a longtime loyal devotee, back when the pickings were slim, but now that everybody's a subscriber, the ball's really gotten rolling in terms of original programming. So, I watched the entire first season of The Crown at the beginning of the month, desperate to be done it before the Golden Globes aired. I'm not much for period pieces and neither is my husband, but together we delighted in watching this acclaimed series about Queen Elizabeth II's ascension to the throne at age 25 -- 25! -- and the handful of years that followed. It was truly fascinating. Then, I started watching the second season of Jane the Virgin and two-thirds of Eddie the Eagle.

I borrowed, season by season, the entirety of Nurse Jackie and, just yesterday, I finished the final season. I love Edie Falco. For most people, she's Carmella from The Sopranos, but I think she could play anything. As a drug-addicted trauma nurse who is no saint but definitely goes out of her way to improve the well being of others, Nurse Jackie is a walking, talking contradiction. She feels real, flesh and blood, because her own moral code can flex so easily to let bad things in sometimes. My main complaint would be the children. Fi is okay, but basically window dressing throughout the series, while Grace goes from being a neurotic little girl to a downright menace. Ugh. On the other hand, my favourite characters were easily Zoey Barkow and the delightful Dr. O'Hara, lovely and consistent, and, while the major lack of them in the final season disappointed me, it was still a great show.

As for actually getting the job done, the only thing I chipped away at was my complete series collection of the sitcom Cheers, finishing up to the second season and a quarter of the third. Now, don't get too excited. That sounds like a job well done until you realize that Cheers ran for -- sigh -- eleven seasons. We'll toast later.

Finally, we have the the 2017 Super-Mega-Ultra-Neo-Maxi-Zoom-Dweebie Chelsey Cosh Reading Challenge™!

Here, at least, I am probably on track, although not in front. Let's have the rundown, shall we?

#1. A memoir published last year: The Princess Diarist , by Carrie Fisher

I read this one to my husband who grew up with Star Wars. I am a late-in-life convert to the ways of the Force, but there's some Jedi in me yet. I love Carrie Fisher and her passing really choked me up. It was one of the reasons that I decided not to add this book to a long 'will read later' list, but rather to get my hands on it now and really experience what she had to say in the days of the millions mourning her. Unfortunately, I wasn't blown away by the book because I don't really care about Harrison Ford and her having an affair and -- oh, my God -- Carrie Fisher really, really does. She obviously felt something great for him and he ... well, he did not reciprocate. I always thought him a bit of an ass. Ally McBeal could do better. Still, I liked reading what Carrie had to say. I just wish it wasn't in the stream-of-consciousness style that feels frustratingly disconnected to my ear.I loved her poetry, though, which constituted a surprisingly large portion of the book. I could read an entire book of her poems.

For my next book, I flew to the bottom of the list and found a prompt that holds a great deal more impact now in the face of -- ahem -- recent political events.

#21. A book with a transgender protagonist: Middlesex , by Jeffrey Eugenides

Again, I am reading this book to my husband. It's like storytime back in kindergarten, only this time with swears! And, oh, what a long storytime it is, a fact which made me a little bit uneasy about diving in in the first place without testing the waters a little. But, screw vetting my book choices! No, Geronimo, I say, as I cannon-balled with a flourish into this tome and I am so glad for it. It is a fantastic read, one that admittedly I am not done yet but am well on the way to finishing. (Just give me two more days, maybe three, I promise.) It's an epic story that spans three generations -- at least, three, from the point I've reached in the book. It speaks of a century of life, a gene mutation passed down from one couple to the next, and a confused teenage girl realizing that something is a bit different in her own body.

My husband's major complaint was with the fact that the book is sort of divided into two parts, with the initial pages devoted to Lefty and Desdemona, ancestors to our narrating protagonist Cal Stephanides, and the second half to Cal himself. Dear ol' hubby fell in love too much with Lefty and Des and didn't want to move onto anybody else. He wanted the book to be about Lefty and Desdemona only, strictly their lives, and it was, to a certain extent, but only in the abstract before we reached Cal's story in part two.

Sure, I can see what he's talking about, but frankly I don't care. Jeffrey Eugenides writes so well that it doesn't matter the subject matter. It's all fantastic. It flows like water. It makes you laugh; it makes you cry. It says something deep about the human experience without any sort of pretension hovering above like smoke in the air. I really love this book.

And, of course, what kind of Goodreads author would I be if I didn't join in the celebration that is Romance Week at Goodreads! In honour of the occasion, I am cracking the spine on Brokeback Mountain . I should be able to finish it in less than a week -- it is such a wee thing to behold at only fifty-five pages -- and, fingers crossed, I'll enjoy it as much as I loved the film. (I know, I'm a cretin for not reading the book first. So sue me.) I'm rife with ulterior motive as it will knock another title off my reading challenge. Oh, goody-goody gummy-drops! I'll share some of my thoughts on it next time.

Until then, happy reading!

What a month. Let's get down to it.

Resolution #1: Reach 65% fluency in French, Spanish, German, Italian, and Russian

I don't know what to tell you. I put in the work, but French and Italian did not budge. Spanish moved one measly percent up; I am now 42% fluent. I learned a full level of Russian, so I'm sitting at 4 out of the 78 levels. Somehow German dropped to 30% -- a whole percent. Oh, whatever.

Resolution #2: Raise guitar proficiency by at least 25% on six songs

Ditto.

Resolution #3: Clear my backlog of unwatched films and TV boxsets

I did stray, as per usual, and borrow some stuff to watch, like the fifth season of Girls, which I enjoyed. Shosh has gotten so professional and Jessa seems to be trying now, at least, putting her best foot forward and getting her act together, which is more than you can say for Marnie and Hannah. I honestly think Hannah is a total mess and Marnie is a manipulative pain in the backside. But they also pose most of the conflict because they are equal parts neuroses and diva behaviour.

I also went from watching the dark comedy Nurse Jackie to the situational comedy Mom. In other words, more addicts overcoming their disease. (And in some cases, succumbing to it.)

In the third season of Mom, Christy is studying law and making something of herself, which is awesome. However, I do miss the close-knit family she had back in season one. For a moment or two, I longed for Violet to be in the show more, to reemerge from the shadowy margins, mentioned but not seen. And then I got my wish. And then I remembered all the whining and petulant behaviour and screaming and entitlement and selfishness. That's Violet. Distance made my heart grow fonder, but then I got a rude reality check when she entered from stage right.

And I watched Arrival. I can see why some people don't like it. It's much more slowly paced than, say, Alien, E.T., Transformers, or Independence Day, which I imagine are the alien sci-fi flicks that most people base their attitudes upon. No, this is a thinky film. It's about linguistics. I sense I've lost half of you. Okay, for those who remain, the alien language that Amy Adams is trying to interpret actually leads to a heck of a lot of symbolism in Arrival. Wait! Guys, symbolism can be fun! It adds layers of meaning and complexity! Oh, fine. Well, I liked it.

Anyway, I got back to the task at hand. I needed to watch stuff in my collection. So, first off, I watched The Parent Trap, the remake with Lindsay Lohan, which I grew up watching about three times a day. I loved that movie. No, scratch that. I still love that movie. I was always more of an Annie James than a Hallie Parker. I would be more inclined to have a packing checklist and a secret handshake with my butler than pierced ears and painted fingernails. My hair was always long, too, which physically puts me more along the lines of Annie. And I have English heritage and the accompanying British accent. And I even wore my hair in a perpetual braid for about the first decade of my life. But that's beside the point. The point is, I loved The Parent Trap as a child. It even gave me a massive appreciation of Nat King Cole with that opening scene. But that's the great thing about the rewatch. Some of the jokes that flew over my head as a wee tot are actually quite hilarious. For example, Hallie calls her friends Lucy and Ethel when they start getting carried away with the chatter. I get that now. That's pretty funny, but again, probably lost on the audience who would be watching this film.

I also finished up Practical Magic, which I had started watching Halloween last year and then paused for something or other and never returned to it in months. Story of my life. Anyway, here's another film I just adored as a teeny tiny Chelsey.

I loved lots of witchy stuff as a kid, especially the TV series Charmed. So it's no surprise that a film with the Stockard Channing and the Diane Wiest playing witches made me quite happy in my young age. I mean, that's Rizzo and Edward Scissorhand's adoptive mother, for goodness sake. Have some respect! Anyway, the film isn't all that spectacular in terms of story or anything like that, but I do love the tone of it. Even though it's dealing with the dark arts, it has a happy, lighthearted mood that is infectious and makes me endlessly gleeful. And when we're filled with glee, don't we all want to dance for midnight margaritas. The answer is yes. Yes, we do.

And Matilda. I almost forgot that I watched Matilda. The film that taught little second-grade me to punish my parents when they were bad. Good times.

Resolution #4: The 2017 Super-Mega-Ultra-Neo-Maxi-Zoom-Dweebie Chelsey Cosh Reading Challenge™!

This month, I got down to business. I managed to finish five books.

There was no question which screenplay I was going to read.

Let me preface. I love Nora Ephron. I love her books of essays, especially those later in life, like I Feel Bad About My Neck and I Remember Nothing . And I love the classic boy-meets-girl flick, When Harry Met Sally . It's one of the most expertly written films in terms of dialogue. And so, I decided what better screenplay to read than one where it's all words, all talk, all conversations at restaurants and parties and apartments and walking in the park. I read a screenplay where there are no action scenes to speak of and it's virtually all dialogue. I mean, sure, I think Harry runs once, but we're not going to ask for a Nike sponsorship or Tom Cruise's body double. Honestly, I was in heaven, reading When Harry Met Sally .

It filled me with joy, swept up in the film running in my head. True, I could not detach the images of Meg and Billy from Sally and Harry, but still, the story just works. The words float off the page. Nora mentions how she and her partner in crime for this particular endeavour, Rob Reiner, each got their own character. Nora is Sally, an optimist who I believe she describes as "chirpy," while Rob is Harry, the prince of darkness who revels in his depression and seeks to bring others down to his level while he's at it. Two people who don't want to be trapped in a car together. Let the witty banter begin.

My one complaint? I wish I'd read the original, the first draft, the one marked up and scrapped and picked apart. I suspect what I have must have been a rewrite because of the inclusion of that famous ad libbed line, "I'll have what she's having." What a great line. But not Nora's.

Still, a good read. And a good watch.

Then I set in on a winner of an Edgar Award, of which I went with The Grown-Up .

Now, we all know how I feel about Gillian Flynn. I'm willing to forgive her, then, for The Grownup. I didn't like it. It was too short, which is not a format that works for the kinds of twisted complexity that Flynn typically weaves into her tales.

Flynn is like one of those women at a loom who makes a massive quilt and adds a fiber of this and that along the way, so subtle that you miss it until you realize that a third of the quilt is made up of that certain fiber, but in order to make that sort of realization, that gasp of disbelief, then there has to be a massive quilt. This book is small, very small, too small, a mere swatch. It's a campside read at best. And that is too small for my Gillian.

But I'm willing to forgive and forget.

Then, I decided to read a book based on a blog, of which there are surprisingly many. I ended up reading Hyperbole and a Half , by Allie Brosh. I had never heard of Allie Brosh. It was a whim, truly random. And my husband freaked out.

"Oh, my God, you're reading that?" he said. With excitement. With glee. With unadulterated delight in his eyes. "Can we read it together?"

So, we did. He apparently knew Allie's work from before, particularly an image that said, "Clean all the things!"

Again, I didn't know anything about Allie. While the latter half of her book seemed to be weaker content than the former half, I still enjoyed it all. I laughed most of the time. I even related on a deeper, more serious level to when she spoke about mental illness. I especially liked her diatribe on the cognitive dissonance and identity conflict she experiences from thinking she is a good person without evidence. Or worse, evidence to the contrary. It is a great little book, but I recommend taking it in small quantities in lieu of the rather larger gulp I took. I hope that she puts together another compilation from her blog posts, something equally visual and entertaining as this one.

Last month, I mentioned reading Middlesex , but I hadn't actually finished it yet. I had a handful of pages left. And a lot happens in this book. But I can proudly say I finished it! And what did I think?

Middlesex is a once-in-a-lifetime book, a novel that spans generations in the style of Fried Green Tomatoes in the Whistle Stop Café but for good reason for it tells the story of a gene abnormality that can be traced back to a tiny village generations ago. This novel is an immigrant story, a Depression survival tale, a love-triangle romance, a triumphant rags-to-riches success yarn, a coming-of-age YA chronicle, a Kerouac-esque road read, and a gender-bending foray into sexual politics and gender identity. But, above all, Middlesex is about family, specifically the Stephanides clan and their rollercoaster trek through life.

Listen, whatever your views are, everybody has a family and can relate to the ties that bind and sometimes the bonds that break. It's a beautiful story about living honestly; with that honesty comes laughter, deep sorrow, and tender moments.

It's one of the best novels I've ever read, five-star literature, profound without pretension. It feels like nonfiction in moments, so raw that a reader is compelled to believe it must stem from reality.

I will not delve into the details so as not to ruin what is a spectacular read. Without question, I highly recommend reading this one.

Only four of the five books I read were actually part of the challenge. I just wouldn't be me if I didn't read random stuff randomly to the detriment of productivity. I read The Bedwetter , by Sarah Silverman, the comedienne and actress. It was the story of her life, and yes, she was a bedwetter for a very long time. I appreciated her honesty, which I can almost always count on Sarah for, and the humour, too, of course. It told the story of her life from youth to the success story she is today. You know, a typical memoir, but with an extra heaping of harsh language.

It was also a month of beginnings. I started reading The Almost Nearly Perfect People (a book about Scandinavia); The End of Your Life Book Club (a book about a mother-son relationship); and Brokeback Mountain (a classic work of gay literature). I'm on my way.

So, what remains?

#1. A memoir published last year: The Princess Diarist, by Carrie Fisher

#2. A memoir published this year

#3. A book about or set in Scandinavia

#4. A book about or set in Australia

#5. A Black Quill Award winner

#6. A book about a mother-son relationship

#7. A Goodreads choice award winner

#8. A sequel to a book you loved

#9. A screenplay: When Harry Met Sally, by Nora Ephron

#10. A classic work of gay literature

#11. A winner of an Edgar Award: The Grown-Up, by Gillian Flynn

#12. A book most people read in high school but you did not

#13. A work of Gothic horror

#14. A play written by Shakespeare

#15. A play not written by Shakespeare

#16. A book of essays

#17. A book based on a blog: Hyperbole and a Half, by Allie Brosh

#18. A book written about the future, but that future is now our past

#19. A graphic novel

#20. A classic romance novel

#21. A book with a transgender protagonist: Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides

#22. A book written by a woman of colour

#23. A book about a murder

#24. A banned book

#25. A book about science

Oh, no. Maybe I'm not out of the wilderness yet.

Until next time, happy reading!

I'm a bit of an idiot. I decided to possibly add a fifth resolution to my already-a-bit-too-large list of New Year's resolutions. I was going to foolishly attempt a new fitness goal.

I am not in bad shape at all. I would argue I am in quite good shape. I do, however, have very little upper body strength and thought I may have more than my fair share of "arm days" as I think the gym speak goes. So I did some pathetically adjusted push-ups and planks. And I felt a bit exhausted, but all well and good.

And then, the next morning, I was in traction. I'm being a bit melodramatic, sure, but I could barely move them. It seriously hindered my working day. I kept a stiff upper lip about it, but right then, I threw that idea out of the window.

You see, I do high intensity interval training, so I can typically handle that whole "no pain, no gain" mantra. But this was something akin to trauma. So, no more of that business. Nuh-uh. Unsubscribe.

I know I'm like a dog with a bone, so I may still periodically have a crack at it, perhaps the day before a civic holiday so that I can lounge it off. But the reality is that a concentrated form of that level of arm routine daily is just not feasible right now. I'll have to forgo being Michelle Obama's body double for a little while longer.

Besides, I have some other things to focus on.

Resolution #1: Reach 65% fluency in French, Spanish, German, Italian, and Russian

I am pretty proud of myself. I can see my goal of 65% fluency peeking around the corner and waving at me. And look at that! It's wearing a beret. Yes, this month, I went from 48% to 54% fluency in the language of Madeline and Miss Clavel. My Spanish jumped even higher -- a whole seven percent! -- to leave me at 49% fluency. That's almost half! My Italian went up one to 18% and I learned another level of Russian, leaving me at 5 out of the 78. And my German held steady at 30%. How do you eat an elephant, my friends? One bite at a time.

And I've also veered a bit off course, in all honesty. I've caught some episodes of Signing Time, a children's program meant to teach toddlers and pre-schoolers how to sign. As in, American Sign Language. And I've been picking it up for some time now through other sources with roughly two years of ongoing practice, at least weekly if not more frequently. I now have a partner with which to practice this language. And make no mistake -- it is a language all its own, with its own rules for grammar, tenses, syntax, and the like. Every new "sign" I learn feels like a massive enrichment, possibly because of the frequency in which I use it. So, yes, add ASL to that yawningly long list of languages I'm gaining fluency in, but please, oh, please, don't set any goals. I'm following my own pace with this one.

Resolution #2: Raise guitar proficiency by at least 25% on six songs

I did practice, but I think I've hit a wall. Maybe it's the wall of sound? Frankly, I don't even know what that is, so that just might be the wall I've hit. I don't even know where I'm going wrong. I can feel "My Girl" getting easier to play, but the scores are not reflecting this change. "American Girl" also felt a little simpler until I learned some more notes, but still the scores showed a 1.5% increase in mastery. That's it. One point stinking five percent. Whoop-dee-doo. My goal is 55.8% for this particular song, so it's hard to not be defeatist. Not to betray the metaphor I lovingly conjured earlier, but this elephant here has a particularly fat ass.

Resolution #3: Clear my backlog of unwatched films and TV boxsets

I must declare it family sitcom month because, boy, did I fly through a few seasons of those. First, my husband and I finished off Mike and Molly, which petered out not with barely a rumble. For a show that started about two overweight people finding love and working through their issues together, I did notice the series diminish itself to merely a husband-and-wife-bickering motif more than a few times. The end was a quick wrap-up, certainly, with a shorter episode run than previous seasons. Oh, well. If nothing else, I can scratch it off my list.

My husband (then-boyfriend) bought me the first two seasons of The Middle because I raved about this one episode in which the family's slacker teenage son is tasked with taking care of a robotic baby for parenting class for a week and does an expectedly piss-poor job of it. But the lengths he goes to allegedly to sooth the baby is what made me laugh. And it still does today.

Anyway, I had those two seasons for an eternity. Really, four more seasons came out in the span of time from the lovely gift-giving gesture to me actually watching it. My husband joined me on the couch and, against all odds and protesting remarks that he won't like this show because it's got Patricia Heaton in it and he didn't like the yelling back and forth like they did on Raymond (another show he allegedly suffered through), he actually took to The Middle. He sees himself in Mike, the husband character, on the show. And I'm starting to see myself in Frankie.

This is a common theme I've noticed. At what point do we watch shows and movies and stop relating to the younger, hipper ones and realize we're the boring, middle-aged fogies? I'm not middle-aged yet, not for a stretch. I'm not even being delusional about this -- it's really math. But I've noticed that, with time, I rewatch those things I love and realize that I'm not so much Ferris Bueller as his parents or Molly Ringwald's parents or even the janitor and principal (ugh) in The Breakfast Club. Well, maybe not all that. But with sitcoms especially, I notice this phenomenon. I watched that debut season of Home Improvement this month, too. Instead of relating to Brad, Randy, or Mark, the ones whom I am closest to age with, being a child just on the later years of the cusp where the eighties met the nineties, I relate to Jill, Al, Wilson, and sometimes Tim. But when did this happen? This was not always the way. Is this the sign of growing up? And how did it happen so suddenly? It feels like an about-face, almost as if I unknowingly compromised my values. I wonder if everyone feels this way or if I'm just some crazy, sitcom-loving coot. Six of one, half a dozen of another.

Alas, that was all in terms of sitcoms for the month. In more of the dramatic territory, I watched a movie called Manchester By The Sea, which is only redeemed by Michelle Williams. As all painfully mediocre things are: My Week with Marilyn, Dawson's Creek (her and Grams made it all bearable), Oz the Great and Powerful, Dick, Halloween H20 (I'd argue that one was a touch worse than mediocre) . . .

I really can't fathom Casey Affleck's Oscar win. His performance was better in so many other things. The character that was written for him is a big part about a man who is suffering major loss that he never quite got over and being foisted into a position where he essentially has to return to the scene and face it all over again. It's a good part, no question, but it would have been so much better conveyed in more capable hands. What Casey emoted, what gave Casey gave, what Casey imbued the role with was nothing. It was a mumbling disaster; his facial expression remained relatively neutral and he burned just above zero calories. At least Michelle Williams seemed to care and, you know, realize she was acting in a movie. She put the effort in and it shows, but not in a giving too much of herself way. She put exactly in what was needed to get across what was written down on paper. And I appreciate that. I haven't much else to say about Manchester By The Sea other than it was not for me.

Oh, and dramatic television series! I almost forgot. I've tried rather desperately to get Hubby Dearest to watch Grey's Anatomy with me. It only took two years short of a decade, but I got him to watch the second episode. Of the entire series. The other day. First, I had him rewatch the pilot because, my goodness, it's been eight years. It's time for a refresher.

His main gripe back then was that he couldn't handle the gruesomeness and viscera of surgery, which is commonplace in a show set in a hospital that isn't Scrubs. And yet he didn't cringe when it happened this time. In fact, he didn't seem to notice it at all. With age and Game of Thrones, we all gain the stomach for the ol' scalpel play. But still, I think it's going to take another eight years to get him to watch the third episode. I swear he'll like it; I'm not trying to exercise some sort of mind control, maniacially pinning his eyelids open like that dude in A Clockwork Orange.

I genuinely believe he will enjoy the characters in this show and their respective arcs of development. I know how fond he is of Christina Ricci and think he will love the two-part bomb episode, too. Still, I think he has an aversion to all things Shonda Rimes. He finds the adoration of Olivia Pope laughable on Scandal; no, really, he has literally laughed at it. Speaking of which, I'm behind on Scandal; I haven't seen an episode since that pesky midseason finale. Hold on, Netflix, Mama's coming.

Resolution #4: The 2017 Super-Mega-Ultra-Neo-Maxi-Zoom-Dweebie Chelsey Cosh Reading Challenge™!

This month, I was spoiled. I had so many options, so many books to read, such a variety to choose from, that I could not settle on one and just get through it.

I'm chomping at the bit to read Bryan Cranston's memoir. I'm dying to know more about what happens in After You, the sequel to the freaking amazing novel Me Before You (please read the book and don't bother with the film; I'm not being a purist so much as I'm trying to save you from ruining a good thing). I've read a couple of Gordon Pape's finance books. But most importantly, I took a chance on something suggested for me on Goodreads: Jennifer Wright's It Ended Badly .

As the subtitle suggests, the novels move forward through history's worst romantic dissolutions, starting with the Romans and ending with Elizabeth Taylor's love triangle. The book is great, humourous and informative and just plain fun. I love it. And my husband who is quite taken with Anne Boleyn -- and has been for some time -- loved her chapter, along with the rest. It's a fascinating look at romance through the ages. History is many times not fun or funny, but looking at it through Jennifer's scope adds a touch of the droll.

This book fits none of the prompts for my reading challenge. So you can see the massive efforts I have made in rectifying that.

I read one for my reading challenge. One.

But I don't care. Reading is supposed to be fun and I don't give a hoot if it doesn't fit some prescribed list. This month, I deviated and I deviated badly. What of it?

Now you may be asking, what was the book you got through? I read Brokeback Mountain. I mostly focused on it because it was unbelievably short. Like, under fifty pages. Yes, I knew if I was going to make any short of breakthrough this month, I was going to have to drop that bar and aim low. Real low. Forty-four-pages low. But, boy, Annie Proulx can capture so much in so few words.

A beautiful and understated story, Brokeback Mountain is a great novella, no question. I saw the film first, which is a big no-no, forever altering my personal perception of the characters, the locations, the tone, and even the plot. The film was so moving. It touched my heart and soul deeply the first time I saw it and continues to with every viewing, deep enough that it's difficult to forget what I've seen and reimagine it all to appreciate Annie Proulx's source material.

Still, her writing is meaningful and her heart is pure. You can feel the nature around her characters, which I feel is a big part of her writing -- you know, the details of the trees blowing in the wind, the type of tree it was, and so forth. You also feel the nature of her characters, which I think is probably equally significant to her, especially in this case, and that is not to be ignored. Although I may not read this book again, I don't regret it for a second, and considering its brevity, I do recommend everyone give it a shot. You're not going to walk away from it unchanged.

So, despite that, what remains after that crappy showing, Chelsey?

Hmm? What does your book-reading struggle hold for you? As you can imagine, a heck of a lot.

#1. A memoir published last year: The Princess Diarist, by Carrie Fisher

#2. A memoir published this year

#3. A book about or set in Scandinavia

#4. A book about or set in Australia

#5. A Black Quill Award winner

#6. A book about a mother-son relationship

#7. A Goodreads choice award winner

#8. A sequel to a book you loved

#9. A screenplay: When Harry Met Sally, by Nora Ephron

#10. A classic work of gay literature: Brokeback Mountain, by Annie Proulx

#11. A winner of an Edgar Award: The Grown-Up, by Gillian Flynn

#12. A book most people read in high school but you did not

#13. A work of Gothic horror

#14. A play written by Shakespeare

#15. A play not written by Shakespeare

#16. A book of essays

#17. A book based on a blog: Hyperbole and a Half, by Allie Brosh

#18. A book written about the future, but that future is now our past

#19. A graphic novel

#20. A classic romance novel

#21. A book with a transgender protagonist: Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides

#22. A book written by a woman of colour

#23. A book about a murder

#24. A banned book

#25. A book about science

I'll do better, my liege.

Until next time, happy reading!

I haven't made much progress as of late. No fibs, dear readers. I have been busy with other pressing matters and my resolutions and goals for this year have been buried beneath other priorities. But I haven't forgotten about them and I've felt guilty about letting them fall by the wayside.

You know what time it is? July. The seventh month of the year. And, yes, I know February is an unabashedly short month, so the midpoint of 2017 has actually arrived now, in these first few days of July. (Speaking of which, happy Canada Day, everyone. It's our 150th birthday this year!) And if that means the first half of the year is totally over, I have decided that it's time to reevaluate. It's time to see what's working and what's a whole load of poppycock.


Resolution #1: Reach 65% fluency in French, Spanish, German, Italian, and Russian

This one's my bad, guys. 65% is a perfectly attainable goal.

My French has drooped from its impressive 54% to a mere 41%. My Spanish fell from 49% to 31% -- what a ding. Even my Italian dropped three percent to a pathetic 15%. I lost competency in Russian by 2 full levels to a mere 3/78 (that's 3.8% -- egad). I should slink away in shame.

And yet, somehow, somehow, my German improved by two whole percent to a mediocre 32%. (I have no idea how that happened, but I can't say I'm not happy.)

By next month, my goal is simply to get back on track and either maintain or exceed where I once was. Once I get to that point, it's incremental progress from there, growing ever more marginal as I get closer and closer to that elusive 65%.


Resolution #2: Raise guitar proficiency by at least 25% on six songs

I have not moved a budge in guitar proficiency. Despite my best efforts this year, I'm starting to feel a little defeated. It's almost the half-way point of 2017 and I am still 25 percent away from being pretty decent at playing "My Girl", "Refugee", "Don't Speak", "Go Your Own Way", and "Addicted to Love." All five of those songs!

It's true that I'm less than ten percent away from reaching my goal for "American Girl." So, I'm thinking of tinkering with my objective. I've spread myself too thin.

As I said before, I know that, in theory, only marginal improvement is likely as I approach my goals, but I'm spitting in the face of logic because: a) I clearly have improved a great deal with this song and I think that it must therefore be magic, and b) I really love Tom Petty and don't mind playing his awesome tune over and over until my fingers bleed. So, let's get "American Girl" to 55.8%!

This is a test, to be sure, a mid-year experiment. I'm going to see if it is wiser to narrow my goal and, in the meantime, drop my expectations for the others. It may not work, but I'm going to give it the ol' college try for at least a month or so. Fingers crossed, everybody (but not while strumming).


Resolution #3: Clear my backlog of unwatched films and TV boxsets

I'm not sure how to determine this goal a success. Clearing the backlog is virtually impossible because it constantly replenishes itself. In the time it takes me to watch two, I have a new one added to my collection. So, what does that mean? I need concrete numbers.

I'm going to apply an arbitrary quantity to consider this goal -- let's say, fifteen films and fifteen TV seasons. Thus far, I have successfully accomplished a whole 36 percent of this goal -- three movies and eight seasons. Want the specific deets? There's the final season of Mike and Molly (disappointing but inevitable conclusion to the storylines they already started), two seasons of Cheers (still hilarious, aging like fine wine), five seasons of The Middle (equally side-splitting comedy that gives me the warm fuzzies and reminds me of one of my favourite shows ever, Roseanne), The Parent Trap, Practical Magic, and Matilda (all three of which were blasts from the past).

I whole-heartedly blame Netflix if I don't reach this goal. This month, I watched their newest season of Orange Is The New Black, the most recent season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and even started watching RuPaul's Drag Race (FYI: not a fan of Acid Betty). I just cannot stay on track with these temptations!

But I will maintain focus. From now until December, I only need to watch twelve films and seven TV seasons. Totally doable. If ever there was a task I could handle, this resolution is the one.


Resolution #4: The 2017 Super-Mega-Ultra-Neo-Maxi-Zoom-Dweebie Chelsey Cosh Reading Challenge™!

Like I said last posting, I'm a bit of an idiot. I realize now that, by fluke, I happened to read Big Little Lies in the last few weeks of March, which is set in Australia. For my reading challenge, I had intended to read The Light Between Oceans , by M. L. Stedman, but I got to Big Little Lies first, which means I actually completed more of my reading list than I originally thought.

Oh, I freaking loved Big Little Lies. Sure, it's a touch salacious, but what a page-turner.

That being said, I wasn't a quick convert, let me tell you. The book was released in 2014 and, by 2015, a year later, I remember it being something of a big deal, book-club-wise. Everybody was reading it -- everybody but me, that is. I had zero interest in it. It looked too ... beachy. I don't care for poolside disposable lit where the dish runs away to spoon with the hot guy. So, I had my doubts. I didn't know that that wasn't at all what this book was about. But nobody told me, so I went with my gut. It took until 2017 for me to even give Big Little Lies a fair shake. It's second chance actually came due to the TV program that HBO started advertising; the show piqued my interest and I had deja vu upon hearing the title. And because I didn't have the patience to wait for the show to air, I decided to read through the book in advance.

And I fell in love with the story. Or I should say stories. I have witnessed some suburban soccer moms who helicopter-parent their way through life, especially those who throw their money around to do it. I have actually seen a great deal of that in my years on this planet. It ain't pretty. That's why I felt something profound about the reality described in Big Little Lies. True, I found it hard to detach the images of the stars I knew were cast as each character, even with physical descriptions in the book that directly contradicted the casting director's decisions (for example, last time I checked Denise Huxtable's daughter doesn't have a blond plait running down her back).

Regardless, the story was great, but it definitely has that soap-opera feel to it that takes the edge off what is actually quite serious subject matter. Still, I enjoyed it unashamedly because it was frighteningly honest. I like books that speak the truth or their version of the truth, and I especially love complicated, layered characters who don't just embrace their flaws but revel in them. Big Little Lies had that in spades. And that made it a good read.

But what about in April? May? June? Have I read anything new? Why, I'm glad you asked.

I've read six -- count 'em, six! -- financial books, including a few titles by Gordon Pape and Gail Vaz-Oxlade. I then read a tiny little coffee-table book called The Joy of Hygge, which I was going to use for my prompt, but frankly it was so brief that I couldn't, in good conscience, use it. I'll look elsewhere. I am well into Fun Home. I've been reading Nora Ephron's Heartburn and Paul Reiser's Familyhood to my husband because he does like a read or two with some laughs to be had. I picked up and then swiftly abandoned We Have Always Lived In The Castle; I simply could not get into it. I picked at The Nordic Theory of Everything: In Search of a Better Life to compensate for the too-short-to-qualify book on hygge. And I sunk my teeth into Their Eyes Were Watching God, a classic by Zora Neale Hurston. That's not to mention all the other hopefuls I have waiting in the wings to be picked up and read, like The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks (of which I have read a few chapters eons ago and then put down and never returned to, much to my chagrin -- it's a great book!) and a few celebrity bios, too.

So, what remains? Turns out, quite a lot.

I didn't do all that great in regards to the challenge, although I've read plenty. But I am up to my eyeballs in books that qualify, books that I've almost completed. So, instead of rambling a second longer, I'm going to do that instead. Maybe next month we'll have something a bit more substantial to talk about -- like Janie finding the diamond within herself again! (Seriously, Zora was the queen of the Harlem Renaissance.)

Until next month, my dear readers!

Dearest readers,

There's nothing like an automobile accident to pull things back into perspective for you.

When I ended up injured from the impact, I struggled with frustration about not being able to do basic things, like feeding myself or getting dressed. Forced to be dependent on others for weeks (and I am still in the process of recovery, so I'm still relying dearly upon their kindness), I was forced to reevaluate what's important. I push myself hard a lot of the time, so I've come to the realization that, oftentimes, the effort is just as important as the result.

Let's take another look at those resolutions.

Resolution #1: Reach 65% fluency in French, Spanish, German, Italian, and Russian

I fluctuated wildly with this goal, almost meeting that milestone and then dropping precipitously, only to work my way back to it. Along the way, I also picked up an interest in Japanese, which I never expected to happen. I know some Arabic, too, which wasn't on the radar. I haven't given up on this goal and will continue to work towards it in 2018, but I've decided not to be so hard on myself for any discrepancies. I look around at the political climate where people make no effort to bridge the gap between themselves and those they deem "foreigners" and the xenophobia sickens me. The fact that I'm trying to speak someone else's language is something I should feel is deserving of a miniature internal high-five in and of itself. Because I really am trying and sometimes -- sometimes -- that is enough.

Resolution #2: Raise guitar proficiency on Tom Petty's "American Girl" by at least 25%

I couldn't put my own clothes on. It made me feel as if mastering that final riff wasn't all that important. I'm never going to be Stevie Nicks, so I've decided to hang up my delusional thinking and retire to the mere fun zone. That's right. Playing guitar for me is recreational and shouldn't be something I'm pushing myself to ridiculous lengths as if my life depends on it. My life doesn't. It's not a career. I'm an amateur who has only had a guitar for two seconds, relatively speaking. And I don't really care anymore whether I sound all that great. And I know that sounds like apathy, but it's very much the opposite. I don't care about sounding great. I care about having fun and embrace the fun of the guitar. And the more I feel this way, the more I cannot wait to get back in the physical shape necessary to play again.

Resolution #3: Clear my backlog of unwatched films and TV boxsets

This is an impossible task. I have chipped away, but I don't think I will ever really be done. I replenish my stock too readily to ever run out. That being said, I finished Veronica Mars, which has been a long time coming. We won't go into all the feelings I felt watching that finale. Suffice it to say, I'm glad the film rectified the situation.

In addition, I watched my Blu-ray of The Lion King, arguably my favourite Disney film; finished the sixth and final season of Girls; and continued grinding away at the fourth season of Cheers.

But, in the same time, I purchased Patch Adams, two seasons of The Middle, three seasons of American Horror Story, and the complete Mary Tyler Moore Show. I was also gifted Hacksaw Ridge. And I buried my nose in Netflix, watching Thirteen Reasons Why, GLOW, Stranger Things, The Crown, and oh-so-many stand-up comedy specials.

And that's fine. I like films and I like television, so it's normal to expect that I would do such a thing. And the fact that I have tons more to watch just means a recipe for some cuddly and fun nights in watching this or that with my loved ones. I couldn't be happier at the prospect of it, so why deny myself that?

In fact, this resolution is not only ludicrous in its unrealistic sense of plausibility but equally so in that its achievement would probably bring me unhappiness. Why would I resolve to do that?

Resolution #4: The 2017 Super-Mega-Ultra-Neo-Maxi-Zoom-Dweebie Chelsey Cosh Reading Challenge™!

Reading is very fun for me. I love learning about new books, reading them, and discussing them ad nauseum.

I happened to read Big Little Lies in the last few weeks of March because I wanted to, not because it was part of this challenge I had committed myself to. As it happens, the book was set in Australia, so it did actually cross off a prompt on my challenge, but I didn't know that. No, I read the book simply because I wanted to. Reading challenge be damned. That was my attitude.

And I freaking loved Big Little Lies. When I wasn't tied to this challenge, constantly trying to get ahead of it, I opted to read books for the heck of it and was so much happier for it.

Now, I do understand the purpose of reading challenges. They force people to look outside of what they normally read, venturing into the unfamiliar to see if there is something they might like. It gets you out of ruts. And, for some, it encourages you to read a book for the first time in an eternity.

But I don't need to be pushed to look for something new. And I certainly don't need to be pushed to read. I love reading. I have always loved reading.

So, while I may not have read a book about a mother-son relationship or a book about a murder, I did read a banned book, a book written by a woman of colour, and a book with a transgender protagonist -- all because I wanted to read them. Not once did I think, "Ooh, I can check this off the list." No, I read them purely because I was dying to see what happens.

That is the beauty of literature. It encourages the curiosity, that yearning to learn more, and allows transportation to an entirely different realm as long as your imagination can take you there. When that magic floats me off wide-eyed on a cloud of my own thoughts, I will be sure to update you on that ineffable thing we all share. Yes, I know we share it. One day, I hope my writing offers that gift to someone. Because that gift is priceless. By virtue of its wonder, I will never be able to articulate that special quality, but I know I'm not alone in this feeling.

And I can assure you that I will continue recommending novels, films, music, and television shows to anyone who will listen and, I'm sure, express my disgust for those pieces of art that rub me the wrong way in what can only be described as a total bitchfest. (To paraphrase what Olympia Dukakis once said, "If you don't have anything nice to say, come sit by me.")

And, yes, while I did not meet any of my goals set by these particular set of resolutions that I set for 2017, I did learn a lot and I think that is probably more important than the arbitrary finish line I established on a whim.

Here's to all of you readers out there. I wish you a wonderful 2018, sparkly and new with all the promise that holds.

Stay warm, safe, and merry.