Happy New Year 2022!

 

New Year’s Eve.

I must admit, I love the holiday. One last night to wallow in one’s personal failings, then boldly resolve to do better. Phoenix rising from the ashes, with an eye towards self-improvement, or attaining some goal or goals, or vowing to correct some yawing character flaw.

I love it. But to be honest, like the vast, vast majority of folks out there, I’ve never kept a New Year’s Resolution in my life.

Doesn’t matter.

A few weeks back I thought it a grand resolution to read books of only 150 pages or less. The book nerd in me tracks and grades every book and short story he’s read (with a nerdy grade assigned to each). The most books I’ve put away, cover-to-cover, in a year was 60, done way back in 2014. My floating annual par is 40, based on what I’ve noticed I can comfortably complete from over two decades of avid reading. This year ending, 2021, I’ve read only 32, the lowest number I’ve put away since 2008, back when I was dealing with an extremely difficult boss in an extremely difficult job with an extremely difficult newborn at home.

A lot of the books I read this year had a lot of pages. That’s doesn’t necessarily deter me, but pages = time. Commander-in-Chief had about 550 pages. The Witnesses had 450. Science and Health had 700. Even my fiction books were thick: Dracula with 400, Red Mars with 375, Little Big Man 400, my three Sharpe books at 350 apiece.

Thus the 150-page limit resolution.

Then, I got into Bernard Cornwell’s Napoleonic books, the aforementioned “Sharpe books,” and bought/was gifted ten of them this Christmas season. That’s 3,500 pages. And I’d rather read them books than stick to that resolution, worthy though it be.

So what else?

Well, I’ll let you in on a secret.

Hopper is now a Fatty.

Yes, I’ve put on the weight since summer. I’m now at the heaviest I’ve ever been in my life. The reason is simple: I stress eat. And face it, regular reader(s), ’twas quite the stressful year for your host. Quitting an old job, moving out of a house he’s lived in for 17 years, relocating across country, navigating two teenaged girls through such a move and a readjustment, finding new employment. Stress! So I’ve packed on the pounds. Since I’m due to start working in the office January 17 (two days in, three days home per week), I realized that I don’t want to be a fatty at work.

So my resolution is to drop 25 pounds, tone up and get flexible. As quickly as possible.

Yeah, get flexible. I have the creaky joints of an 80-year old man.

I did real well when we first moved down to Texas, from mid-July to mid-September. Got down to 200. Muscles got firm from hurling the iron. Got fit from a daily 2.5 mile walk in 100-degree weather. Ate Keto and the spare tire melted off.

Then I got employed, and the stress eating kicked in big time. Since Halloween I’ve been a mess.

Tomorrow morning I’m doing my stretch routine (hams, quads, calves, lats, plus a few yoga moves to hit my hips and neck). Then the 2.5 mile walk (it’ll be 63 degrees here at 8 am). Then the gym in the garage, the newly-Christened “Thunderdome” (“House of Pain” seemed to have too negative a connotation for my old carcass) to do some curls, some bench presses, hack lifts, leg dips, tricep curls, rows, etc.

Time to get back into shape. Time to not be a fatty at work.

Anyways …

 

HERE’S TO A SAFE AND

HAPPPPPPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!