Lips Like Sugar

I once gave up candy for a year.

That may not sound like much to you, but I was raised by a mother who could rifle through half a package of Archway oatmeal raisin cookies on her way home from Safeway.  And I say that with great admiration.

Sugar, you see, has a mighty, genetic hold over my clan, which makes my past resolve seem almost miraculous, if not potentially traitorous.

In looking back, I'm not sure if my grand experiment was framed in a New Year's morning, but I do know what it was that led to my eventual downfall--a Brach's Bunny Basket Marshmallow Easter Egg, arguably the worst excuse for candy ever.   How disappointing is this fact?  Imagine a Luddite  binge watching "The Jerry Springer Show," and you're getting close.

Our roads to downfall, it seems, often are lined with tchotchkes and reruns and Space Food Sticks.  Oh, my.

Yesterday, at a friend's New Year's brunch, we wrapped things up with a little experiment--seeing how many of us could rise from the floor without using our hands. (I know what you're thinking--"Dammit, why can't I get invited to any of the great parties?!")

When it was my turn, I was a bit nervous.  After all, I couldn't recall the last time I'd sat on the floor on purpose.  And, given that my descent to the carpet was punctuated by sounds more often associated with microwaving popcorn or seasoned firewood splitting under a very sharp axe, I had no delusions of success.  But I am stubborn, if nothing else.

Halfway up, teetering like a pooped-out child's top, my "friend's" giggles distracted me and I very nearly gave up.  Shameful visions of marshmallow eggs spurred me on, though, and I managed--finally--to rise to my triumphant victory, arms held high and legs only kind of quavering.

If I were brave and forward thinking, I'd resolve to sit on the floor more in 2016.  But I won't.  Mostly because I'm still kind of sore from yesterday's near fiasco.

Instead, the part of me that feels I ought to at least give this "resolution" thing a shot has settled upon a long-favorite tradition of mine--finding a vague motto that might occasionally be used to inspire at least mediocre future decisions, without actually committing me to much.

The motto I've settled on?  More or less.

Yeah, I know.  It isn't even a complete sentence.  And, from an AP-style perspective, the word "less" is rife with problems.  But I'm going to give it a whirl anyway.  Beginning today (probably), I will frame my future actions and decisions with the personal reflection of "More or less?  Which would be better right now?"

By applying the same Kung Fu focus I used yesterday on my friend's floor, this resolution may very well see me through the end of today and possibly even into Sunday morning, if I'm feeling especially disciplined.

And then, my newest resolution--like a Mayfly whose life sees but one sunrise--will die a quiet, sad death, most likely while I am driving home from the store, my hand stuck in the grocery bag, searching feverishly for the Snickers Bar that has fallen to the bottom.