I’m not oneto make a big deal of the calendar flip—or actually, I guess, calendar renewal,as I pull one from the wall and replace it with another Black Cat calendar fromWillow Creek Press. (Yes, I know I have a calendar on my phone and on mycomputer, and no, I don’t use them. I love standing in front of 30/31/28 blocksof time with a pen in my hand and organizing my days.)

Nor am I oneto make New Year’s resolutions. (Previously, I had the same resolution everyJanuary 1st: Turn my mattress over. But we don’t turn mattressesanymore. We rotate them. And we’re supposed to do that once a month. I try.)However, I do want to make a couple of changes in 2026, so I’m going to resolveto do so by putting them here in writing for all the world to see (or,probably, the thirty or so people who will actually read to the end of thispost).

So here wego:

1. I resolveto post to my blog once a week every other week. Even in the year that Istarted the blog—which was, like, seventeen years ago, holy cow!—I didn’t postevery week. But I was still teaching then. Life on the mountain was idyllic butbusy, and I only had weekends to compose posts. Now I have more time at home,but I’m working on multiple writing projects, so I’m still busy. Anyway, doesn’tmatter—I’m determined to post more often. There, I said it.

2. I resolveto play my guitar every day. Strange as it may seem, this one is way, wayharder. Right now, I’m sitting at my computer desk in the dining room. Myguitar is approximately seven feet away, sitting on a stand, ready to be pickedup and played. But Jenny is sitting on top the writing desk by the window,gazing out to the street, watching the rain fall and hoping to see a bird hoponto the porch. If I pick up the guitar, she’ll leave me and head for thebedroom. So will Maudie, who is lying on the floor nearby. No matter howquietly I play, for some reason, the big wooden box with strings makes themanxious.

Also… andthis is harder… I have lost a great deal of the tonal quality of my voice. “Thatshouldn’t matter!” I hear you protest. No really, it does matter. Singing now…is often heartbreaking. As we age, our voices lower and we lose the elasticityin our tissue, which means our vocal cords (which are actually flaps, notcords) cannot stretch the way they did when we were young. For me, this means that,while I may pick up my guitar and play an old tune, I may not be able to singit.

Here's the truth: I learned to play the guitar when I was fifteen because singing broughtme comfort at a time when I was clinically depressed. At that age, I was yet torealize how much of an emotional outlet writing can be. Singing was my form ofself-expression, and when I was alone, which was often, I sang constantly. Ilearned to play not because I loved the guitar, but because I loved to sing. Istill do. I sing to Jenny and Maya and Maudie constantly. But those are simple,silly songs. Not my old classics—“Sunrise, Sunset.” “El Shaddai.” “Danny Boy.” “Suzanne.”So many Peter, Paul, and Mary songs. So many Dylan songs. On rare occasions Iwill listen to the professional CD I made in 1982, and I am astounded at thequality of my voice back then. If I had known that I would one day lose it….Sigh….

Therefore... I justhaven’t been playing the little mahogany acoustic guitar I so happily purchasedwhen I retired. I had so many hopes and dreams then…. Well, some of them havecome to fruition. Maybe if I play my guitar every day and gently push thosevocal flaps into doing some calisthenics, I will come a bit closer to what Iwas once capable of. (Calisthenics: from the Greek: kallos, meaningbeauty and sthenos, meaning strength.) At the very least, I will regainthe callouses on my fingers from chording.

That’s it.Just those two resolutions. So… meet me here again in two weeks. Now if you’llexcuse me, I need to go play my guitar.